《Seeker of Truths》 [Village] In a lush meadow, the morning sun cast a warm, golden glow over the dew-kissed grass Far away in the distance stood a towering tree, casting its stalwart shadow over the entire field. Elsewhere, caressed by the breeze was a cluster of flowers, decorating an expansive, verdant stretch of grass. Their heads bobbed back and forth as they danced with the rhythm of the wind, their pale blue petals painting the world around them in an azure hue. Whoosh Amidst a cacophony of shouting and the patter of footsteps, a scrawny arm snatched up one of the flowers from the ground. "Hah! Found it!" A young boy, no older than twelve, raised the frail flower in his hand and exclaimed to himself. "Oi! Look here! We can bring these back to Grandpa Raymond, he might tell us another story today." The boy turned his head behind him as he addressed a group of children of a similar age trailing behind him. Hearing his words, the children behind had their eyes glow with fervour as they rushed forward and snatched up the flowers in front of them- doing so carefully to ensure they didn''t damage the plants. "Claude? What you up to over there?" Whilst everyone else was busy, the first child noticed one of the other boys had gathered some children, explaining something to them. The other boy had tousled, brown hair and hazel eyes, wearing an orange-brown tunic. Upon hearing his name, the named Claude turned around and looked towards the first boy. "Gil? Oh, I''m just telling them not to pick these." The boy named Claude, pointed towards the puffy white flowers nearby that looked distinctly different from the yellow ones around them. "What''s the point? They ain''t poisonous or nothin'', are they?" Confusion marked the brows of Gil, not understanding the point of what Claude was doing. "If we pick these now, there won''t be any more of these flowers here the next time we come," replied Claude. "Never thought of that! Smart thinking, Claude!" Gil exclaimed in surprise as he slapped his forehead, "No wonder Grandpa Raymond fancies teachin'' ya." He shivered thinking about what would happen if there were no more of these flowers here. ''No flowers? How else were we gonna get Grandpa Raymond to tell us another story...?'' The thought scared him a bit, the village didn''t have many things that seemed fun to Gil and the stories told by Grandpa Ray were one of the few that excited both him and everyone else. "Thanks again, Claude." Gil patted Claude on the back and ran off to tell the other kids about it so as not to ruin this flower field for the sake of listening to more stories. Heading back towards his group, Claude found himself confronted with some of the younger children''s unending curiosity. "Claude, why do you care so much about picking the right flowers?" asked Mia, a curious younger girl in the group. Claude knelt beside her, helping her choose the flowers gently. "You see, Mia, knowing things¡ªreally understanding them¡ªcan help us make everything better around us. Like how picking these flowers carefully means they''ll grow back next time. It''s not just about knowing; it''s about using what we know to help others. That''s what Grandpa Raymond often says." Mia nodded, understanding what he meant, "So, we learn not just to know things but to make things better?" "Exactly," Claude smiled, pleased to see his point take root. As they were talking, a voice soon sounded beside them. "Claude? We''ve got a deal to settle, remember?" Asked one of the boys who was with Claude prior as he walked up beside Claude. "Hmmm. See you later, Mia. I need to get going." said Claude. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Getting up he began walking elsewhere with the boy in tow as he waved to Mia. A sly grin crept along Claude''s face as he spoke to the boy beside him. "Come on, let''s sort this deal out..." Time soon passed as the children frolicked about, their laughter echoing in the air. As the morning passed, and the afternoon was about to encroach; the children with dandelions in the baskets they brought along with them soon began their trek back to their village. It didn''t take long for a humble little village to appear along the horizon, a quaint collection of thatched roofs and wooden fences. Bustling silhouettes of villagers shuttled around the village as they busied themselves with their work. "Oh my! You lot look like you''ve been busy today. Is this all for Raymond?! Are you sure you lot don''t need any help with any-?" A stocky middle-aged man greeted the group at the village entrance, he looked at the children each panting slightly as they lugged baskets filled with flowers alongside them. However, his words were arrested as his eyes drifted to the figure of a certain boy in the crowd. "Claude¡­ What on earth are you doing over there?" The boy in question was surrounded by a few other boys his age as they pushed forward a wheelbarrow, packed full of the blue flower. "As agreed, you guys helped me with bringing this here, you guys each get three baskets full of them." The moment Claude finished speaking, the boys around him scattered, each eager to grab a basket and collect their share of the dandelions As they departed they glanced over at the other children with complacency marking their faces. A dark look crossed the faces of the other children as a single thought crossed their minds. ''Not like this was a competition... And anyways, all you did was get fooled by Claude...'' On the other hand, upon noticing the eyes of the middle-aged man falling on him, Claude stared back for a bit before asking, "Anything wrong Uncle Tom?" "No, nothing. It''s just Raymond seems to be teaching you rather well... perhaps a bit too well...?" What Tom didn''t mention was that Claude''s practises seemed awfully familiar to him. ''Hold on. Isn''t that what those shameless merchant b*stards from the Marduk Republic do...?'' Tom found himself speechless at that the fact he seemed to see the shadow of a bunch of greedy merchants in the young boy in front of him. "You guys¡­ just head over to Raymond''s house." Exhausted, Tom waved to the boys as he trudged back toward his home- his mind caught up in a few depressing memories of his. Shrugging off the weird behaviour of Uncle Tom, Claude pushed the wheelbarrow towards the other side of the village as he was followed by the others. Arriving at the doors of a small cottage, Claude walked forward and knocked at the door. This was because, unlike the others, Claude was much more familiar with Raymond. Not only was Raymond his teacher, but due to the early passing of his parents; Raymond adopted Claude and currently served as his sole guardian. "Whose there?" Following the sound of rushed footsteps, a raspy old voice sounded from behind the door. "Old man it''s me, Claude." Claude replied, upon hearing his response the door in front of him rattled and shot open. A frail old man, seemingly in his 70s, hobbled forward and was greeted by the sight of a dozen children each holding baskets filled with bright, blue flowers. Of course, the rather prominent wheelbarrow also caught the attention of his turbid, aged eyes as they began lighting up. "Thank you, everyo-." His excitement caused him to descend into a fit of coughs, gathering the concerned eyes of everyone around him. "Anyways, I reckon you guys wouldn''t be doing this for me all for nothing. What do you guys want?" Raymond looked at the children in front of him; seeing their darting, hesitant eyes he briefly chuckled. "Fret not children, I''m not going to be leaving this world any time soon." Hearing the confirmation, regardless of whether it was true or not, the children collectively heaved a sigh of relief. "We ''eard you say you needed these flowers, Gramps. So we thought, maybe if we brought them to ya, you''d share more of them stories...?" Hearing the words of Gil, the children tensed up as they awaited a response for Raymond. Though their village wasn''t completely isolated, it was nevertheless located near the coastline of the Empire of Francia. The nearest town was a five-day trek from the village, meaning most villagers might not see an outsider in their lifetimes. The only way for the children to understand the outside world would be through stories from a few village elders. Uncle Tom would have been a good choice, but every time they ask about his adventures when he was younger; it would usually end up being him cursing the ancestors of some merchants who tricked him of his hard-earned wealth during his mercenary days. Furthermore, it was only Old Man Raymond who understood history to any degree in this village as he wasn''t originally from the village but instead moved here many years ago. "Of course, that would be fine." Raymond chuckled at their nervousness as he answered before promptly telling the children to leave the dandelions by the side of his house as brought a chair out from his home and got the children to sit on the floor in front of him. "Forgive me if I''ve forgotten, but what stories have I shared with you all already?" A hand shot up from the crowd and a little girl around the age of seven soon spoke up. "Ooh, I know! There was that story about¡­ The Eunuch Revolt in the Xi Dynasty, The Fall of The Uru Kingdom, and¡­ and the one about the Duchess and her serv-" "Well, that was quite enough to jog my memory, young Mia." The old man dodged the questioning gaze of a few adults who came to eavesdrop on his storytelling as he interrupted the young girl for the sake of his hard-earned reputation. "Okay, I have one for you. Do you guys remember what I told you about the current state of the continent?" Raymond questioned the crowd, upon seeing the dodging eyes of everyone he turned his head to Claude who was trying his best to reduce his presence amidst everyone. "Claude, why don''t you go ahead and answer for everyone." Despite Claude''s best efforts to hide, he was still called out by Raymond. Sighing to himself, Claude sat up straight as he began his explanation. "There are currently four nations on the continent of Arta. The Empire of Francia, where we live. The Kingdom of Assur to the North, The Marduk Republic to the South, and the Xi Dynasty in the Far East." "Well done, Claude." Hearing Claude''s answer, a satisfied grin covered Raymond''s face before he continued to speak. "Despite the current situation of the world, there was once a time when all of humanity was unified..." He paused and looked around, seeing the growing anticipation on the faces within the crowd he cleared his throat before he spoke. "Let me tell you a story that few know of. A story that may have more truth than what meets the eye. This... is a story about the Gods..." [A Legend] Amidst the crowd, Claude felt an intense curiosity gnawing away at his thoughts. Most of the stories told by Raymond are just pieces of gossip regarding nobility, historical events and the lot. Mythology was something Raymond never delved into in his stories, until now... ''Gods? Aren''t they just made-up characters in those stories for children? What does the old man mean by saying there might be truth in a story with them in it?'' Despite these thoughts churning within his mind, Claude refocused his attention on what was happening around him as soon as Raymond began speaking. "Millennia ago, the land was split into dozens of nations. Each vying for hegemony, resorting to any tactic they had available regardless of how vile or cruel it may be." "Peace was merely a dream for the ignorant, wars raged and the land wept." "It was in such an era, that one day the kings of these countries were visited by strange, ethereal entities." "They had an almost illusory appearance, with strange visions surrounding their nigh immaterial form. Some were surrounded by fire, some by ice and others by lightning." "These entities gave these kings visions of the future and the power to fuel their hegemonic ambitions, however, that all came at a cost... faith." "To obtain the favour of these beings, these kings must give them not only their faith but also the faith of their nations." "With this divine intervention, the world was torn asunder by even more devastating wars as everyone desperately used these newfound powers to destroy their foes." "In the past when wars were feared due to the mindless slaughter of soldiers and civilians, now, it was feared due to the powers held by the champions of these Gods." "Each champion held power enough to move mountains and split the seas..." Murmurs broke out in the crowd, many filled with scepticism at this story. The power of these champions seemed incredibly unrealistic, the mere notion that man could wield such power sounded implausible to them. Most of the audience, including Claude, felt even more confused by what Raymond meant by saying that there is more truth than meets the eye in this story. Ignoring the quiet chattering of the crowd, Raymond continued speaking as he arrested their attention. "The existence of these champions meant that war not only harmed the people but also the land. Due to their fights, the amount of arable land kept decreasing year by year. Their forceful alteration of the environment around them brought forth natural disasters of untold proportions." "Yet, in one of the larger countries at the time, the king received a dream from the God his country believed in: the Mother of the Stars, Goddess of Dreams and Prophecy, Asteria." "Her words were simple, ''If you wish to succeed in achieving your ambitions, teach well the child your eldest daughter shall sire.''" "Excited by the prospects of this new revelation, the king immediately wedded his daughter to her betrothed and awaited the birth of his grandson." "However, unknown to both Asteria and all the other Gods, another force was lurking within the material realm." "It didn''t take long for the king to get another visit, this one from an unknown entity. One surrounded by a dark, ghastly void from which hushed whispers echoed." "The entity bewitched him, ''Your child will indeed unify all the realms in this world, however, it shall be done after he has seized your throne by force.''" "Upon finishing the words, the strange figure vanished from the eyes of the king." "Despite the vision he had, the king would not be so foolish as to instantly believe in this entity and forsake his Goddess." "However, as time passed he was haunted by horrific dreams showing him his own death and the more he thought about it the more he didn''t want to risk such a thing happening." "After all what use was hegemony if he was dead by then?" "Driven by these thoughts he sent a loyal courtier to dispose of the son his daughter had just given birth to." "Paranoid by his daughter siring any more children that would harm him, he used treason as an excuse and beheaded both her and her spouse." "On the other hand, the loyal courtier was hesitant upon receiving this order." "Drowning in guilt, he impulsively gave the child to a shepherd in a village on the outskirts of the country." Upon reaching that part of the story, Raymond paused and stared at the enraptured crowd before asking. "Could any of you guess where the village in this story was said to be?" Seeing no response, with a cheeky smile on his face he answered the question himself. "It was said to be right here." Hushed whispers broke about as they revelled in what they had heard, none of them had ever heard of such a thing in all their time living here. Their village had such a role in legends? "Of course, this is all hearsay, no one can truly tell where such a thing would have taken place." He chuckled to himself as he briefly fell into a stupor, and proceeded to carry on his tale. "The child given to the shepherd was named Kourosh by his adoptive father and grew up in that village as a normal village boy." "However, that all changed one day when he received a vision from an entity now familiar to you all." "Yes, it was Asteria." This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Hearing his words, excited muttering filled the crowd. The children understood that the turning point in the life of Kourosh was here. "Though she was initially confused by the fact the child she had prophesied about suddenly died, she didn''t believe that a mere mortal would deceive her." "Especially, with the fact that he had no reason to do so." "Nevertheless, the frequent changes to the future she kept foreseeing led to doubts and upon further investigation she discovered what the king had done." "Furious with this deceit, she sent a vision to Kourosh explaining to him the origins of his birth and the fate of his parents." "With the help of Asteria and her prophecies, Kourosh joined the army and managed to slowly climb the ranks in court. He soon developed into a powerful general of the kingdom all the while hiding his identity." "After becoming a general, Kourosh didn''t make any rash moves and remained waiting. Waiting for the opportunity prophesied by Asteria." "This opportunity soon revealed itself, a civil war initiated by a duke to take the throne for himself." As he reached this point, Raymond paused as he seemingly drowned in his thoughts. "And then?" A voice rang out from the crowd, as it urged Raymond to finish his story. "What do you expect?" Being so abruptly interrupted, Raymond shot an annoyed glare in the direction of the crowd from where the voice sounded before he carried on telling the story. "Where were we? Oh yes... Kourosh destroyed the rebellion before rebelling himself and then committed regicide. Oh, now I think about it, it''s also patricide is it not? And then he became the king and unified the world... the end." By the time Raymond was done speaking, a depressing silence hung in the air. Claude and everyone else in the crowd cradled their heads in the palms of their hands. ''Damn it. What''s up with this shoddy way he ends up finishing all of his stories.'' Their hearts sank as they realized the anticipation they had felt earlier now could only once again crumble into disappointment "That''s all folks. The sun''s about to set, let''s save the stories for another day." Raymond announced with a crisp clap of his hands, as he ushered the lingering crowd to disperse. Disgruntled sounds echoed from around, but everyone still begrudgingly made their way out as they revelled in the story; despite the poor way its ending was handled by Raymond. Once everyone else had left, Raymond turned to Claude and pointed at the flowers that were left scattered about. "Claude, help me sort these out." "Can I not?" Claude meekly answered, though, he was nonetheless disappointed by the response he got. "Of course, but that would mean I won''t be answering the questions you so dearly want to ask." Raymond smirked as he responded, delighted at the sight of Claude wilting like a withered flower. "How do you know I have questions for you?" With despondency lacing his words, Claude turned to Raymond before asking. Raymond''s smirk widened at Claude''s meek response, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Ah, but young Claude, your questions are all but written over your face." Breathing a sigh unbefitting his age, Claude trudged over to the pile of flowers and he began sorting them out. Time soon passed and the duo soon finished assorting the flowers into little bundles before laying them out in the open space to dry out in the sunlight before dusk arrived. Inside the house, they sat opposite each other as they ate their dinner with Claude sneakily glancing at Raymond between each mouthful of his meal. Annoyed by the piercing stare of the child opposite him, Raymond rolled his eyes before speaking. "Stop staring and ask your questions." "Well... I have a few..." "First of all, I''ve been wondering, what about that person who tempted that king to deceive Asteria? What happened to them? Why were they never mentioned again in the story?" "Secondly, there are those supposed gods? They ask for worship, but why? How does it benefit them? And why can''t they directly affect this world, like how Asteria didn''t directly kill the king who deceived her?" "Thirdly, was what you said true about the village in the story and our village being the same?" "Then... Then, you''ve always rushed the endings to your stories... Why? Why can''t you just finish them normally!?" After he finished firing a series of questions, Claude took a deep breath as he stared at Raymond opposite him. Raymond briefly paused his eating before placing the fork in his hand. He silently stared at Claude briefly before he jovially spoke up. "Wonderful questions as always, Claude. Always straight to the problem. For your first question, I can''t go into too much detail without taking up too much time but... Let''s just say they didn''t exactly disappear." "The next time I tell you guys a story, I''ll tell you about the fall of this empire and the role of this unknown force behind it. All you need to know is that this group hails from a realm known as the subspace, a dimension filled with horrors beyond your wildest imaginings." "They have been called a multitude of different names, hellions, demons, hellspawn etc. Nevertheless, the name that has stuck around them for the longest period was... The Old Ones." "Then you asked about the gods, didn''t you? You see, Claude, for the gods, faith is not merely belief; it''s their sustenance. It''s akin to fuel for them, empowering their essence and enabling them to perform feats that can bend or even break the laws of nature that bind us mortals." "Thirdly, I can''t say for certain but from what I can draw from historical records, the place where the village was said to be should be her- no scratch that, it should be south of the village. Somewhere around where you lot play, you know? That massive field?" "And, for your final question... It''s very easy to answer." "I simply don''t like endings..." Giving the disgruntled boy opposite him a cheeky wink he answered the final question and then changed the subject. "Well, now I have a question for you. Why do you think I asked you to bring me these flowers?" Upon hearing Raymond''s question, Claude felt a bit lost. Why would he know? Hell, he too was curious to know why an elderly gentleman would need so many flowers. Was the old man finally trying to get himself a missus? "Tch. Kid, where did all the knowledge I teach you end up?" Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Raymond chastised Claud before continuing. "Moonshade, a very common flower in the Empire of Francia, is sometimes even considered a weed or a nuisance by many. Nevertheless, there are a variety of uses for them. They not only possess some slight anti-ageing properties but also help in our digestion, they can even be used to make a special herbal tea. These factors come together to make moonshade a very cheap way to manufacture medicinal tea." As Claude listened on he began to understand the uses of moonshade, but something bugged him. "If these flowers were so important, why does no one seem to care about them?" Claude queried, not sure why people were ignoring such a versatile plant. Hearing his words, Raymond sighed as he began to answer. "For those who are more well off. They simply think that it''s beneath them to use such a common herb, no matter how important it is. They would rather opt for the more rare and precious herbs, even if they have similar effects." "For the poor... It''s simply due to a lack of knowledge." Hearing Raymond''s answer, Claude was just even more baffled. "Are those rich people just dumb? And why don''t those poor people try to learn things like this, it isn''t exactly complex?" Raymond chuckled to himself as he heard Claude''s ranting. "Yes, the rich truly are as thick as a log of wood. And, for those who are poorer, they simply don''t have the time to learn things like this. They have to slave away in the fields to earn enough to feed their family. Even if they did have the time, they simply lack access to a place in which they can learn this knowledge." As Claude listened on, he began to understand a little bit more about the world around him but at the same time, he possessed a growing curiosity regarding Raymond''s past. Was he some sort of noble? If he wasn''t, from where did he learn all of this knowledge and get his stories? As Raymond''s voice faded, he paused, a distant look clouding his eyes. "Remember, Claude, every story holds a truth, often hidden, often forgotten. What you choose to do with these truths... well, that could change the course of your life." Claude listened quietly, attempting to make sense of these words. It wasn''t often Raymond taught him things like this; usually, he''d be taught knowledge on the more scientific end of things, with only tidbits of other knowledge sprinkled in here and there. After Raymond finished speaking, he soon rushed Claude to go to sleep before the boy could ask him any more questions. Afterwards, the elderly gentleman began making his way back to the dining room. Sitting himself back on the dining table chair, beside him lay a small book, veiled in his own shadow. Propping his chin on top of his fists as he stared out of the nearby window. His eyes reflected the tender, silver moonlight that basked the world beneath it in a gentle shine as he lost himself to his thoughts. He found himself reminiscing his past, as a certain figure slowly appeared in his mind. "Endings... What a bittersweet thing they are. Unknown yet inevitable. Swift and unfulfilling. Wouldn''t you agree with me, old friend?" Raymond muttered wistfully as a calm silence enveloped him. [Chaos] Claude''s eyes snapped open as he was jolted awake by a cacophony of distant shouts and cries piercing the quiet of the night. Confused and concerned, he sat up, rubbing his eyes to ward off sleep''s tight grip on him. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Claude threw off his blankets and stepped out of his bedroom. The house was silent and dimly lit by the moonlight seeping through the windows. As he moved through the hallway, the echoes of commotion from outside only grew louder. Passing the dining room, Claude noticed Raymond sitting rigidly in a chair by the table. His usual calm demeanour was replaced by a look of deep concern that immediately drew Claude''s attention. "Old man, have any idea what this is about?" Claude asked as he gestured toward the source of the noise outside. Raymond, twirling his narrow, grey beard thoughtfully, looked up with a start. "I''m not too sure, kid," he replied in a steady voice. However, what he kept to himself, was his intuition that these were not mere shouts of irritation or the typical quarrels they occasionally heard from the village. No, these screams were different¡ªthey were desperate, filled with pain and terror. Raymond stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the wood floor. "Claude, just wait here. I''ll go and see what''s going on," said Raymond. As Raymond hurriedly draped his sheepskin cloak over his shoulders and grabbed his walking cane, whilst Claude watched him, puzzled. Raymond''s brisk movements belied his usual pace, prompting more questions to spring into Claude''s mind. ''When did he become so agile? And why has he always made me do all those chores if he can move like that?'' Claude thought to himself as a wry smile stretched across his face despite him finding the current situation rather peculiar. Shaking off his thoughts, Claude moved to the window, gazing out into the night. The sky was overcast, heavy clouds blotting out the stars, adding to the oppressive feel of the night. ''Were nights always this dark?'' he wondered silently. ----- ---------- ---------------- Outside, Raymond''s steps quickened as he approached the heart of the village, guided by the increasing volume of the chaos. Clutching his cane for support, he navigated the familiar paths with an urgency he hadn''t felt in years. ''What on earth could be causing such a commotion?'' he thought, his mind racing as he tried to prepare himself for what he might find. The village square, normally a place of laughter and lively chatter, was transformed into a scene of utter panic. Villagers were scattering in every direction, some clutching children or belongings as they fled. The air was thick with fear and confusion, making Raymond''s heart sink. At this point, Raymond was already wary of the source of this chaos like never before. To cause chaos and mayhem like that it shouldn''t simply be something like thieves or some neighbourhood spat. Stolen novel; please report. ''Are there bandits?'' That was the only thing Raymond could come up with to explain the current situation. Raymond''s eyes searched the crowd for any sign of what was driving this terror. His gaze fell on Tom whose face was now contorted in pain as he tried to limp away from the chaos behind him. "Tom! What''s happening? How did you get hurt?" Raymond called out as he reached him, placing a supportive hand under his arm. Tom looked up, his face pale and sweating. "Raymond... Just run... You can''t fight them... They¡ª" His words were cut off as he stumbled, unable to maintain his balance. Raymond caught him just as he collapsed, the life seemingly draining out of him in an instant. Shocked, Raymond gently lowered Tom to the ground, checking for any sign of life. A cold realization washed over him as he understood that Tom was beyond help. He stood up, a deep sense of dread settling in his stomach. Clop! Clop! A distinct sound cut through the noise¡ªa sound that seemed to be getting closer. Raymond turned toward it, his heart pounding. Clop! Clop! With each beat, the sound grew louder, more ominous. Raymond felt the hairs on his neck stand up as he finally saw the source of the sound. "Oh merciful queen of stars above... How is this thing here?!" ----- ---------- ---------------- Snapping Claude out of his stupor was Raymond who rushed inside, panting heavily. His eyes bulging, his face pale and sweaty. Seeing the worn-out appearance of his teacher, Claude hopped off his chair and rushed to help Raymond stand. "Old man, are you okay? What happened out there?" Questions shot out of Claude''s mouth as he finally began to worry, he realised that this might not be a slightly out-of-control village squabble but something else entirely. "I- I''m fine" Amidst his rapid breathing, Raymond mustered enough energy to spit out a few words. After calming down his breathing, he looked at Claude in front of him. "We''re leaving..." Raymond looked as if he had aged a few years as he uttered those words. "What do you mean leave?" Claude felt bewildered by Raymond''s words. Why were they leaving? What about everyone else? Are they in some sort of danger? However, Raymond just ignored the questions bombarding him and dragged Claude by his arm outside of the house. Claude, still confused by what was going on, didn''t resist as he understood that his teacher wouldn''t go about harming him. Nevertheless, his mind was still wandering about the others in the village and how they were doing. This worry wasn''t exactly sated once he glanced behind and saw a rather sizable inferno engulfing some parts of the village. ''Was it just a fire? If so what are we doing coming here?'' Time soon passed as the duo trudged their way through the forest. ''Aren''t we heading over to where we collected those flowers?'' The field Claude was thinking of was where he and the other kids from the village collected the dandelions earlier today as well as where they usually hang around to play. But, before he could sort out his chaotic thoughts, Claude soon heard a sound that sent chills down his spine. Neigh! Neigh! From behind him and Raymond, a strange screeching echoed. It sounded similar to a horse''s cry, but yet so... strange and unfamiliar? Compared to a normal horse, this one sounded much lower in pitch with a distinct ferocity within it, if Claude hadn''t seen a few horses in the village stable he would have thought that was the sound a predator made. Neigh! Neigh! As the creature cried out again, Claude could feel the grip of Raymond''s hand on his arm tighten ever so slightly; yet, Raymond still adamantly kept dragging Claude forward as if he was trying to pretend the sound had never existed. Claude, unable to resist his unending curiosity, turned his head around to see what was behind him. As he twisted his head back, he soon saw something. Something he dearly wished he hadn''t seen. Vaguely illuminated by the dim moonlight was the silhouette of a horse, which could slowly be seen trotting towards them. Every time its hooves smashed against the grass, a soft thud could be heard, each time sending a cold shiver down his spine. A pair of red eyes glowed in the darkness, moving closer with a menacing gait. The creature that emerged from the shadows was like something out of a nightmare. Claude stared in horror as the details became clearer¡ªa horse, but not just any horse. This one was monstrous, towering over any grown man by no small amount, its presence alone enough to instil a primal fear in Claude''s mind and body. Its skin seemed to have been stripped away, exposing pulsating muscles and veins that throbbed with a sickening rhythm. A foul stench filled the air around it, and the ground where it trod seemed to decay instantaneously. But it was the eyes that truly terrified Claude¡ªthe empty sockets glowed with an unnatural red light, casting an eerie glow that seemed to pierce straight through him. Beside Claude, seeing the creature before them, Raymond clenched his teeth, bulging green veins appearing by his temples. "How...How did a subspace anomaly get here?!" His voice, laden with frustration and dread, sounded in the still forest air. [Void Spawn] Hearing Raymond''s words, Claude''s pupils shrunk to the size of a pinhead. ''Voidspawn...? What the hell is it meant to mean? By void does he mean the subspace?'' However, the situation didn''t give Claude any time to ponder as his attention was soon redirected to what was happening in front of him. Beside Claude, Raymond, who had been panicking moments before, managed to calm his breathing and fix his gaze on the ''anomaly''. Time seemed to freeze until Raymond spoke again. "Kid... I need you to run away now." Claude''s response came fast, a mix of confusion and shock. "Wh-What do you mean? Do you think I''m just going to up and leave you to die alone?" His voice broke the tense silence, his words louder than intended despite the gravity of their predicament. He couldn''t fathom abandoning Raymond, the man who had been more a father than a mentor. "STOP HESITATING!" Raymond''s shout snapped Claude back to the harsh reality. His gaze never left the menacing entity before them, which seemed to savour the fear it induced in its prey. Raymond softened his tone, the urgency in his voice replaced by a gentle firmness. "Claude, listen to me. You know I''m old. Much older than the years would suggest. I wouldn''t last long, even if I escaped today. I''m already too worn... too tired... Please, just run. Do it for me." As the beast loomed closer, Raymond''s voice remained calm yet urgent. "Claude, remember, survive! Find the massive tree in the meadow. It''s more than it seems. It might be the only thing that can help you." His words were vague, but Claude grasped at it like a drowning man. As Raymond pushed him away, Claude hesitated, turning to face the man who had raised him, taught him, and now sacrificed for him. He saw the determination in Raymond''s stance, his frail body forming a barrier between Claude and the beast before him. Tears, unbidden, rolled down Claude''s cheeks. "GO!" Raymond''s final shout was a command, a plea, and a goodbye all at once. Overwhelmed with a tumultuous mix of fear and resolve, Claude turned and ran, his steps heavy, his heart heavier. Every fibre of his being screamed to turn back, yet Raymond''s words propelled him forward. Watching Claude''s figure disappear into the distance, Raymond heaved a sigh of mixed relief and resignation. ''I guess this is it. I didn''t think it would end like this, not to one of these things.'' The horse-like monster opposite him, finally started to edge closer as it realised that it couldn''t simply let one of its prey disappear now. Without warning, the beast lunged at Raymond. In this once-silent forest, a jarring of sounds came to life; with shouts, screams and cries continually echoing. A few minutes later, all that was left at the scene was a mutilated corpse, blood seeping from it and dyeing the grass around it a scarlet hue. The lonesome corpse remained the only thing that could have attested to the bravery put by a rather fearless old man. On the other hand, Claude was dashing through the forest. He dodged and weaved through the trees and bushes as his mind kept lingering on what was happening behind him. ''Run, Claude. You can''t look back now. You know how that old man will act like if you turn back now, screw the monster, he might personally send you into the afterlife...'' His jest being a poor attempt to distract him from what might be happening behind him. Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Claude could hear his heart racing, the running and the stress were slowly affecting him as he could slowly feel his legs turn heavy. Nevertheless, his attempts to calm himself proved futile as he heard something that caused his blood to freeze. The sound of hooves smashing against the forest floor reverberated in his ears, he could almost picture that monstrosity galloping through the forest as it tried to lock onto him. However, for the current Claude, the presence of the beast behind him could only mean one thing. ''Old man...'' Realising that he may have just lost his only real family member in this world, a mix of emotions swirled around in his mind.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Rage. Hatred. Despair. Emotions that he never would have thought he would be capable of expressing flowed through him. As much as he wanted to turn around and fight that thing to the death, he did not want to waste Raymond''s sacrifice. There also was another reason why Claude kept on running. If I don''t survive this... Wouldn''t this mean no one else would be left in this world to remember the old man? No one left to avenge him...? ''Damn it! I can''t outrun a normal horse, let alone something like that. Who knows how fast that thing is... Think Claude, how can you survive this... What would the old man do...'' As his mind remained in turmoil a certain memory flashed in his head. ----- ---------- ---------------- A slightly younger-looking Raymond and a much younger Claude were taking a walk through this very forest. "Grandpa! Look over there! What is that doing here?" The younger Claude pointed his little finger towards something in the distance, where a small bird lay on the ground motionless. "What do you mean ''what is that?'' That is quite obviously a bird. A dead one at that." Hearing Raymond''s words, Claude pouted slightly before replying. "Well, I get that. But why is it dead in the first place?" Before answering Claude, Raymond edged towards the corpse and took a closer look at it. "Seems to have been hunted, though I do find it strange that its corpse is just left here..." Interrupting his words, a small figure darted out of a nearby bush and rushed towards the corpse before picking it up and running away. "Ah, it was bait. That makes much more sense. Oy! Claude, what are thinking about now?" Raymond turned his attention to Claude after confirming that the critter had run away. "I''m just thinking... Why do we not get eaten by big animals? I mean I don''t think we can beat a lot of animals in a fight, but we don''t ever seem to be in much danger." Raymond broke into a brief chuckle as he answered, "That''s what you were thinking about? Well to answer your question, some unfortunate people do indeed end up becoming an afternoon snack for an animal." "But you would also have to understand that it is very unlikely to happen to most of us. Have you ever thought how hard it is to chase a person? Like for example when you and your friends play tag around here?" "We possess surprising agility, thanks to us running on two legs, we can make sharp turns and sudden stops much more easily compared to other animals. With our intelligence, we can make use of our natural surroundings to act as a buffer between us and any wannabe predator." "Then there''s the fact that we have a lot of stamina... Like a lot... Over a very, very long distance, we could outrun most animals like horses for example, though that is a poor example... I mean why would you need to run away from a horse?" "Of course, this only applies to very long distances. In a short sprint, we are not going to fare too well. Then there are things like our ability to use weapons, fighting in groups etc." ----- ---------- ---------------- The memory soon faded from Claude''s mind as he now had a much clearer idea of what to do. ''I shouldn''t run in a straight line, first of all, perhaps make sharp turns on my way through? Then I should also try to travel through the more forested areas with more trees and vegetation...'' Dashing through the forested landscape, Claude''s chest pounded as he could hear the sound of hooves edging closer to him. ''No... no... Why are you so fast?'' Ignoring the burning pain in his legs and the sweat pooling on his forehead, he found himself in abject horror as he could swear he could feel that the beast was right behind him. Staring in front of him, he soon found an area densely populated with trees to his right. As he turned a sharp right, he felt a strong breeze rush past him as he made out the silhouette of the monster rushing past him from the corner of his eyes. Not wasting any more time, he continued running. Darting between the trees and over some fallen branches, Claude felt some of his tension leaving him as he could no longer hear anything behind him. Nevertheless, the fatigue was catching up to him as he was slowly losing feeling in his legs. However, before he could feel his legs give out, he managed to spot something that invigorated him. ''There!'' Looking around he found himself in front of a familiar field, somewhere that once held memories of joy and laughter. Despite all the stress placed on his mind due to his current situation, the sight of this field strangely calmed him down. In the distance loomed a colossal tree, its towering form stretching skyward with branches that seemed to reach into the heavens above. The bark, weathered and gnarled, boasted a thickness that could rival that of several grown men standing side by side. This was the tree most of the children in the village used to mess around on, however, no one knows how long it has been there. All Claude knew was that it had been here for longer than anyone currently in the village. Whilst gasping for air, he rushed towards the tree before grabbing onto the tough, dry bark in front of him and began to climb upwards. As he made his way up, his arms grew heavier by the second until he reached a point where he could no longer climb. Exhausted, Claude flopped himself onto a thick branch someway up the tree. Whilst he was recovering his breath, he heard a now familiar sound that made his heart sink. Well below him, on the ground craning its neck towards him was the horse-like monster. It seemed annoyed that it couldn''t reach its prey and continually smashed its head onto the tree bark. The creature''s actions shook the tree slightly but weren''t enough to achieve anything else. Staring at the scene below him, Claude realised something, ''If this was any other tree, wouldn''t it already be toppled over?'' Whilst shivering at the realisation, Claude soon found himself feeling drowsy as his exhaustion caught up with him. Nevertheless, a sudden change took place that rendered him both awed and speechless. Without warning, the massive tree he was resting on shot out a pulse of vibrant white light into its surroundings before it then fired a pillar of similar colour into the sky above. On the ground the monster that didn''t seem capable of feeling anything other than blood lust immediately tried running away, horrified by what was happening. Despite its attempts, it found itself being evaporated by the light. Claude watched on in shock, at the scene before him as the creature that put him through hell today disappeared as if it never existed in the first place. Nevertheless, a wave of fatigue that washed over him sent his vision into darkness as he fell into a slumber. ''Am I... Going to die?'' [Silent Sacrifice] Whilst all this was happening, off in the coastal city of Littorbourg nearby something strange was taking place. On the city''s outskirts, a secluded alley lay shrouded in darkness, lit only by moonlight, in stark contrast to the well-lit streets nearby. Despite the deathly quiet atmosphere in the alley, it was not in complete desolation as figures shuttled around within it. The figures were all draped in darkly coloured hoods that concealed both their appearance and stature. Nevertheless, these figures soon congregated before a tattered, wooden door. One of them, presumably their leader knocked on the door, and behind the door, some shuttling around could be heard. The peephole on the door was removed and an eye could be seen from it, as it began staring down at the group in front of the door. After the person behind the door examined the people before him, a voice soon echoed from behind the door. "So it''s you lot... Is today the day?" The voice behind the door was raspy and harsh. A moment of silence hung in the air before the apparent head of the group answered. "We wouldn''t be here if it wasn''t..." The voice of the hooded figure was starkly different from the one behind the door. Montone and young. Following the answer the door opened up and an aged figure appeared before the crowd, he had no hair and possessed a hunched posture. "This way." The old man gestured behind him, indicating them to follow him inside into what seemed to be a former tavern. With a nod, the leader of the hooded figures pushed open the tattered wooden door, beckoning the rest to follow. They stepped from the shadowy alley into the dim interior of the derelict tavern, where dust motes danced in the shafts of moonlight filtering through boarded windows It seemed as if the building had lacked a living resident for an untold number of years. The group trailed the elderly man through a narrow, creaking hallway. At the end of the corridor, he opened a heavy wooden door, revealing a secluded room with a thick musty scent assaulting the noses of those stepping into the room. The room was filled with an array of items: candles lit with dancing flames; a sharp, serrated obsidian dagger and most importantly of all... An altar. At the centre of the room was an altar, its surface carved with runes and obscure symbols. In front of the altar were various bodies scattered about. Some belonged to young men and women, others were of children. Despite their situation, the rise and fall of their chests indicated that they were still indeed alive. The hooded figures, each draped in dark cloaks that obscured their identities, formed a tight circle around the altar along with the old man. One among them, the supposed leader of the group with an eerily calm voice, began speaking with his hands clasped together by chanting many unintelligible words. As the chant progressed, the other figures joined in, their voices layering over each other, creating a chorus that filled the room with a vibrating energy. The flames on the candles began to violently flicker and the runes on the altar blazed with a bright, unnatural light, illuminating the room with an eerie, spectral glow. White tendrils soon extended from the altar and snaked towards the various bodies lying around. Upon linking with these bodies, the tendrils were soon dyed red as they began to pulsate. The once unconscious people soon awoke amidst the ritual, their bodies frozen and unable to move. However, the bulging of their eyes and the streaks of tears that slid down their faces all but indicated the pain they were currently suffering. Amid the chanting and strange phenomena taking place in the room, the young man who initiated the chanting grasped onto the obsidian dagger and made his way to the altar. Making an incision on his left hand, black blood dripped from his hand onto the altar. The ground beneath everyone''s feet soon vibrated slightly. Yet, ignoring the shaking of the ground the man soon began chanting a new set of words. "In the name of rot and ruin, we call thee forth, O dire harbinger of plague! Let thy breath, laden with death, taint this world. May thy touch spread decay, corrupting flesh and fouling earth. Rise from the shadows of the subspace, and unleash thine unholy pestilence!" The man''s voice which was once laced with apathy now took on a fanatical tone, as he clenched his bloody hand in anticipation. Whilst this was taking place, a crimson line scarred the night sky above. With every passing moment, the line kept widening and expanding. As a certain threshold seemed to have been reached, something deep within it seemed to be trying to leave... ----- ---------- ---------------- Back in the village, the bright white light emitted by the massive tree soon began to fade.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Motes of light soon congregated together from the fading brilliance of the tree and soon before the stalwart figure of the tree a faint silhouette materialised. It was a woman. With long, silver hair that cascaded down her back and deep, amethyst eyes. Her ghostly form seemed partially transparent as he hovered in the air. She looked around her surroundings before locking onto the figure of Claude lying down on the tree. Knitting her brows she spoke out her thoughts, "Strange... Why was my residual consciousness awakened...? Why do I sense the presence of those subspace scourge...? And... why is there a child here? " Her voice was a combination of both elegance and authority. If Claude was awake, he would most certainly consider this woman to fit most people''s fantasies of a princess. Waving her hand before her, the stars in the night sky briefly shone as a stream of light flowed from them into the woman''s head. "Ah... I see... so many years have passed since that day..." Her face echoed a sense of realisation, however, this was undertoned by a heavy sense of melancholy at the ruthless passage of time. Looking back at Claude a thoughtful look crossed her face, "This child... It looks like I was right in leaving this part of my power here..." However, her thoughts were soon interrupted. Off in the distance, the sky above became torn as a crack formed within it; which soon began to bleed a crimson, red energy. From this tear in the sky, a monstrous tentacle emerged dwarfing the massive tree beside the woman, as it pulsated and seemed to be constantly shifting in colour. Following the emergence of the tentacle, haunting whispers soon followed the appendage from within the crack as the world around it began to distort. Grass and flowers beneath it didn''t simply wilt; they decomposed at an accelerated rate, turning to blackened slime within seconds, as though time itself hastened to decay in its presence. Streams and rivers that flowed near its path began to flow backwards, their waters turning a murky, poisoned shade of green. Fish floated up dead from within the water, their bodies bloated and distorted. Other creatures in the area soon began to mutate into horrific aberrations, gaining extra limbs, growing more eyes around their bodies and more. Some of these abominations even began fusing with nearby creatures, creating an unholy chimeric nightmare. A solemn look took over the woman''s face as she looked at the entity trying to cross through the crack and the chaos spreading all around her. "Why is He here...?! No... Is this perhaps just an avatar...?" Her tense face relaxed as she realised that the thing before her was merely an avatar. ''This should just be an avatar... If it was Him, His mere presence should have already eroded the physical world...'' Whilst she contemplated the situation at hand the movement of the tentacle paused, and then, as if it sensed something it began to writhe in agitation. It didn''t take long for the giant tentacle to press towards the woman, attempting to crush her. In response, the woman merely waved her hand, from which a resplendent white light burst out. The light soon coalesced into radiant chains of light that soon shot towards the tentacle in the sky and bound it. As the chain came into contact with the tentacle, the limb began to melt away and the creature itself seemed to be suffering some unimaginable pain as the tentacle began to thrash around. Had the monstrous appendage thrashed around any closer to the ground, the very earth would have been torn asunder by its violent movements. Yet as the dark appendage dissolved into nothingness, so too did the woman begin to fade. After completely evaporating the arm, the chains of light soon snaked towards the crack in the sky above and began to wrap around it. As it did, the hushed whispers that leaked out of the crack began to quieten down and the crack itself began to mend until it had disappeared from the sky. The world around it soon returned to normal, though, if one ignored the dead fish floating along the river. The fading figure of the woman turned around and glanced at Claude who remained in deep sleep whilst a soft smile adorned her face. "I don''t seem to have much time left... Let''s hope you can fulfil the dreams that I and so many others had tried so many years ago..." Whilst her figure began to fade away, the tree that Claude rested on also began to disappear and fade away. With her powers, she gently moved Claude onto the ground. Taking one last look around her, the woman smiled as she thought to herself, ''A truly beautiful world... Let us pray that it shall remain this way...'' Following her words, the chains she had summoned prior shot towards the earth, entangling the newly created abominations scattered about. When the last creature dissipated, the chains disappeared and so did the mysterious woman. As the woman disappeared, the tree soon morphed into a ball of light and flew into Claude''s body. Following this, silence enveloped the area. The only sign of life... Claude, who remained oblivious to what had just occurred; as he lay down on the soft grass in a deep slumber. ----- ---------- ---------------- People all over the world woke up amidst their slumber as they felt a stinging emotion in their chest. Individuals in Francia... in Marduk... in Xi... in Assur... They all seemingly felt at a loss over their sudden waking. They seemed to feel as if they had lost something important... As if they had just left the comforting embrace of their mother... ----- ---------- ---------------- Within a strange space, where there was seemingly nothing except a sea of crimson energy. Suddenly, shadow figures emerged out of nowhere, varying in size greatly. Some were as large as planets, others even smaller than a person. As if sensing something, these figures glanced at something in front of them and grew increasingly agitated. In front of these creatures, sat a small tear in space. From within the tear in space, one could vaguely make out the appearance of a human city... ----- ---------- ---------------- In an office, sat a middle-aged man. He had piercing green eyes, black hair with a few silver ones streaking through it and a well-kept beard of similar colour. Despite it being night, he was writing something on a piece of paper that sat on his desk with slight illumination given to him with some candles decorating the room. However, he suddenly paused and looked up as if sensing something. "A subspace invasion...? Do these cultists ever rest?" Tapping his finger on his desk, the man spoke to himself with a frown marring his face. "And what is causing these palpitations in my chest..? " ----- ---------- ---------------- Back in the city of Littorbourg, the group of cultists looked at each other blankly at the result of their ceremony. ''Nothing?! Why did nothing happen?!'' Following the completion of the ritual, the rumbling of the ground ceased along with the radiance of the altar. All that was left were the withered corpses that lay around the altar due to the ritual. "Did one of you mess up the ritual? Damn it! Do any of you understand how difficult it is to find this many living sacrifices?" The old man looked across the hooded figures before him, his hands clutching the sparse hair decorating his scalp as he questioned them. "If we need to do this again, we''ll be at an even greater risk of being caught... I''ve already lost three hideouts to keep this undercover...!" Not hearing an answer, the old man continued ranting as he thought of how all that effort had gone to waste. "You don''t need to worry about this, I''ll contact the sentinel and try to see where we went wrong. If necessary, I''ll ask for backup to ensure all goes well next time..." The voice of the supposed leader of the group draped in hoods sounded in response to the old man''s complaints. Upon hearing the word ''sentinel'', fear briefly flickered in the elderly man''s eyes as he settled down. "Aye... But this must be the last time. Those inquisitor b*stards must have been already dispatched to investigate the missing people in the city... I can only find more people for the ritual once everything has settled down... It may take at least a year..." [Sorrow] In a vast, dimly lit hall with shadows cast along the walls by the flickering light of torches mounted at intervals along the stone masonry. ''What... is this...?'' Claude couldn''t figure out what was happening, the last thing he remembered was running away from a sort of monster and then some bright white light appeared whilst he fell asleep. "My lady, please rethink this. There must be another way." In front of Claude was a middle-aged man, who possessed olive brown skin, curly black hair and emerald eyes. The thing that confused Claude was that the man seemed to be talking to him, but the last time Claude checked, he was most certainly a boy. "Ardeshir... You know this is the only way. If I don''t do this, humanity may lose its last chance at survival..." Involuntarily, Claude''s mouth opened as his body began to speak. Yet, what came out of his mouth was a melodious female voice. ''No... This can''t be... I''ve become a woman...?'' The outrageous thoughts popping up in Claude''s head served to somewhat distract him from the life-threatening ordeal he had just gone through in the real world. Nevertheless, these thoughts were soon tossed out of his mind as he focused on the conversation before him. "If my ancestor Kourosh heard of what you have to resort to doing to help humanity, what would he think of this? I''m begging you to rethink this. There has to be another way to deal with the threat of the subspace!" The man named Ardeshir impassionately continued speaking, though something in his words caught Claude''s attention. ''Kourosh...? He couldn''t mean that Kourosh?! And why are they talking about the subspace? Does that something have to do with that creature from before?'' Claude couldn''t understand why he was having this dream. What unsettled him more was the details he was hearing from this conversation. "The subspace network would allow for humanity to possess a trump card. One that would allow their escape from any future subspace invasions. However, to create it, it would need the sacrifice of a pure subspace being..." The woman whose body Claude seemed to be seeing out of answered the man''s doubts, before uttering a wistful chuckle. "...Currently, I seem to be the only person who would both be willing to and able to do this..." At this point, Claude felt like his brain was frying... The woman claims to be a subspace being. Does that make her similar to that ''voidspawn'' from before...? What even is the subspace...? What is this ''subspace network''...? And... is this actually a dream? The last question is what worries Claude, this doesn''t seem to be a dream. From what Raymond taught him in the past, a dream merely reflects one''s internal thoughts. Thus, you cannot learn something new from a dream. Therefore, a glaring problem with the current situation is that... If this wasn''t a dream... What was it? However, before he could receive any answer, the world around him began to fade and disappear... ----- ---------- ---------------- As dawn broke, Claude''s mind gradually surfaced from the depths of his bizarre and unsettling dream. The morning sun cast its first gentle rays across the meadow, gradually illuminating the world around him. As his awareness returned, Claude found himself lying on the ground, a far cry from being perched on a massive tree as he had been. His face scrunched up as he attempted to reconcile the dissonance of being in that strange dream with the hard, cold reality of the earth beneath him. "Wasn''t I sleeping in a tree? What am I doing on the ground? Did I fall...? No, I would most definitely be dead in that case..." Claude murmured to himself, more to the silent air than in expectation of an answer. With a heavy sigh, he propped himself up, looking around and taking in the expansive view of the field that stretched out before him. Then a harsh realization hit him. That the tree¡ªa massive, sturdy oak that had been his refuge the night before¡ªwas nowhere in sight. "Wait... where did the tree go?" He questioned aloud, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and shock. The absence of the tree seemed so implausible to him, that Claude even wondered if he was still dreaming. Rubbing away the sleep from his eyes, Claude struggled to organize his swirling thoughts. "So, I somehow went from a tree to the ground in my sleep...? The tree also disappeared? All the while I was having that rather vivid... dream?" His voice trailed off as he pieced together the memories, trying to make sense of the disjointed fragments. As he sat up fully, the chilling events of the previous night began to rush back to him in vivid detail.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. He remembered the terror that had gripped him as he fled from that abomination of a creature. The memory of the bright white light that had enveloped him was particularly vivid¡ªit had been so intense, so all-consuming... At that moment, everything had changed. The beast that chased him was simply evaporated from the face of the earth by that brilliant light. Recalling that bright light Claude could still feel a residual tingling sensation that made his skin crawl. As the details of last night''s ordeal settled in his mind, a wave of dread washed over him. Claude''s breathing quickened, his pulse raced, and a sense of urgency propelled him to his feet. "No..." he whispered to himself. His mind replayed the scenes over and over. Each iteration pieced together more and more of his memories of the night prior. Each one served to only deepen the sense of overwhelming panic he felt. Drunk in panic, Claude began walking back the way he had come. Every step took him closer to the forest where he had run away from... to the place where his reality had twisted into a nightmare. As he trekked through the dewy grass of the meadow and into the denser underbrush of the forest, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. Soon, the sinking sensation filled his entire body. As Claude neared the familiar clearing, each step felt heavier than the last, his breaths shallow and quick. The forest seemed unnaturally silent. Absent of the usual chirping of birds or rustling of leaves, as if the world itself held its breath. Pushing through a thick bush, his heart sank with a dreadful certainty. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, which saturated the damp, earthy floor of the forest. As his eyes adjusted to the grim sight, the details became clearer, each one a dagger to his sanity Ahead lay a body, so still and quiet amidst the chaos of the disrupted earth around it. The face, hidden behind a mask of blood, was unrecognizable, but the familiar clothing, torn and stained, was unmistakable. It belonged to Raymond. Claude''s knees buckled slightly, sorrow mingling with fear. His hands trembled as he approached, each step reluctant, dragging a flood of memories¡ªlaughter, guidance, friendship¡ªall severed as brutally as the life before him. For Claude time froze, all he could do was stare at the scene before him. "Teacher..." Thud As he uttered those words, he collapsed onto his knees and his blank facial expression soon began to morph. Cradling his face in his arms, Claude began to sob. The initial sobbing soon turned into bitter weeping. The weeping soon turned to wailing. The mere notion that Raymond would no longer be with him seemed to be an impossibility. Sure, he had seen Raymond''s health deteriorate over the years he had been with the man... but this was... far too soon. "Please...! This can''t be true... This has to be a dream. YES! A dream! I just need to wake up and everything will be back to normal..." Between his heart-wrenching screams, he soon found himself murmuring to himself. Time passed and Claude''s venting soon began to quieten down. Raising his head, Claude stared at Raymond''s body one more time. The same man who once served as his teacher and his father figure. Forcing himself to stand up, Claude trudged over to a nearby pile of pebbles. After picking one that was around the size of a fist, he returned to where Raymond lay. With a blank face and hollow stare, Claude knelt once again but this time started to use the pebble to dig into the ground. Minutes soon turned to hours as Claude maintained the same movements. What if his right arm was tired? He would use his left. So what if the odour of blood was assaulting his sense his smell? Claude simply ignored it along with the sense of nausea that was building up within his body. With his unceasing actions, the hole soon morphed into a pit, deep enough to reach Claude''s waist. Wiping the sweat pooling on his forehead, Claude looked up at the sky above. "It''s afternoon...?" Shining brightly, the sun hung overhead and illuminated the world with its warm, tender rays. Yet... Claude clenched his fists, all he could feel was a bitter sense of loneliness. Walking up to Raymond, Claude used every ounce of his remaining might to hoist Raymond''s corpse over his back. Arriving at the pit he had dug, Claude gently lowered the body into the pit. Upon doing this, in a similar manner to before he began to fill the grave up. After completing the endeavour, Claude found himself once again at a loss as he stared blankly into the air. His eyes soon, however, gained a bit of light as something clicked in his mind. ''The village!'' Since waking up, understandably, Claude''s mind forgot about the situation at the village. ''Is everyone there okay?'' After the thought flashed in his mind, it began to spread throughout his head like weeds in a garden. With a sense of vitality in his movements now, Claude returned to where he had woken up. Claude soon began his trek back to the village. He had to know. Was he truly left alone in this world? Or would he at least have some people by his side he could call family? Travelling through the forest, Claude couldn''t help but notice that was recovering its usual liveliness. The vegetation seemed the same as before, and the sound of wildlife was slowly returning. His nose was slowly being freed from the assault of the heavy scent of iron. Now his sense of smell was being gently embraced by the crisp spring afternoon air; conjuring memories of how he and Raymond often travelled to and fro through the forest when he was younger. Something that... would now forever remain a figment of the past. Shaking his head, trying to rid himself of these distracting thoughts; Claude looked ahead and made out the silhouette of an all but unfamiliar village. Hastening the pace of his footsteps, he hurried forward. Arriving at the outskirts, the biting quietude of the village struck him harder than the sight of blood stains and charred remains. It was the silence of a grave¡ªa silence that stifled any lingering hope Claude had naively previously held. Houses he knew as homes were reduced to ashes and the air was thick with the iron tang of blood. In the desolation, Claude''s desperation peaked. He rushed from house to house in the regions of the village unaffected by the fire, in a frantic search for any sign of life, any proof that he was not alone in this nightmare. But with each empty room, each cold hearth, hope dwindled until nothing but despair remained. After completing his investigations, Claude could feel his fatigue catching up to him. His limbs still hadn''t fully recovered from yesterday''s chase or today''s labour. Weary, Claude made his way back to his home. As he approached the bundles of moonshade that he worked with Raymond to prepare earlier appeared in his vision¡ªbringing back memories of a time that felt so distant to him. With a deep sigh, Claude pushed open the heavy wooden door of the cottage he once shared with Raymond. The room was dim, lit only by the faint light seeping through the small, shuttered window. The familiar smell of smoke from the hearth, long cold, filled the air, mingling with the scent of thatch from the roof. He collapsed onto an aged, wooden chair beside the dining table. The table surface was battered by years of use, and a few crumbs from their last meal together still lingered in the wood''s crevices. "What do I do now...?" A sense of hopelessness enveloped Claude as he lay his head on the table. He was merely a child. How was he meant to live from now on...? No. There was another question. One that he didn''t truly wish to answer. Why... should he carry on living? He had no family. No friends. No home. The future never seemed more elusive to him. He reached for the cloth-wrapped loaf on the table and gently unwrapped it. The bread was crusty, its surface rough and slightly hardened. As he tore into it, the bread crumbled under the pressure of his fingers, breaking into coarse, dry chunks. He chewed slowly, the dry bread scratching his throat as he swallowed without much taste. Normally bread would have been prepared along with some cheese, fruits and anything else left from prior meals. However, currently, Claude simply couldn''t find it in himself to properly prepare a meal for himself. Beside the loaf was a simple earthenware jug of water. He poured himself a cup, the cool liquid a small relief against the dryness of the meal. However, amidst his first meal in many hours, he found something sitting within his peripheral. From the corner of his vision, his eyes reflected a lone tattered book resting on the table. [Diary] Claude stuffed the last of his crusty bread into his mouth, crumbs tumbling down his shirt as he straightened up, eyes fixed on the book. He had seen Raymond treasure the book dearly, always taking his time to read through and write things on it whenever he had free time. Claude contemplated the diary''s significance to Raymond, thinking, ''It''s just a diary, isn''t it? Why did he treasure it so much?'' Whilst confusion hummed in his mind, his right arm reached towards the book. Its size was rather moderate, allowing Claude to hold it in one hand. As he held the book in his hand, Claude could feel the rough texture of its leather cover. The diary was bound in faded, brown leather and its pages yellowed with age. Gently opening the book his line of sight drifted to the contents of the first page. The Diary of Raymond de Laval ''de Laval?'' Claude usually never heard Raymond use this surname of his. The man liked to keep his past as much a mystery to Claude as it was to everyone else in the village. Yet here it was in the book before him. Claude himself was previously known as Claude Claudel, he had been named after his father, adopting the surname to distinguish between them. Which wasn''t uncommon for villagers around here. Thankfully for Claude, once he was adopted by Raymond after the passing of his parents, he was also given the surname de Laval. Nevertheless, the surname sure was an oddity in the village. Raymond himself wasn''t originally from the village, nevertheless, his surname still seemed rather uncommon. As he continued reading the diary, Claude found himself lost in the words that littered the pages. Year 4671 - 19th April Having left the Elysium, I have arrived at the village. By my calculations, this should be where Asteria left her final legacy. Year 4671 - 24th April For the past few days, I have managed to settle in and have begun my investigation. I do not have a clear idea of what the legacy of an ancient God may look like. However, I should start with any anomalous things that have taken place here over the years. Year 4671 - 3rd September I have yet to find anything that could be considered supernatural or anomalous. However, I have found a rather bright child in the village. Claude? I think that was his name. If I do succeed in this endeavour soon, I might be able to bring this talented seedling back to the Elysium. ... Year 4675 - 11th February It has been a few years, and the only thing I have found was a massive tree off in a meadow nearby. On the other hand, Little Claude has recently lost his parents due to an illness. The boy was also afflicted by it but somehow managed to live through it. Truly, only with such a will can one become a mage, unlike me... I have now adopted the child and have begun teaching him some basic knowledge. He absorbs information incredibly well. I haven''t seen such a thirst for knowledge in an adult, let alone a child. It''s just... too many questions are being thrown at poor old me. ... Year 4676 - 30th July I have tried investigating that tree once again and have confirmed something strange about it. Despite its organic appearance, the tree''s bark resisted every attempt I made to damage it as if it was composed of a material harder than any steel known to man. I can''t burn it. Can''t cut it. Can''t break it. There is no way this tree is purely the work of nature! As much as I would love to inform the council of this strange tree, every time I think of writing such a letter or even stepping out of the village¨DI seem to forget about the tree entirely. Year 4676 - 7th August Ah, the years are catching up to me. I don''t seem to be able to hang on for too much longer. I hope I can last till Claude is old enough to fend for himself. ... Year 4676 - 17th September I have given up on understanding the tree. It seems impossible to truly investigate without more... supernatural methods. As he finished reading the final log in the diary, Claude found himself at a complete and utter loss. As Claude processed the words before him, his mind buzzed with a mix of confusion and curiosity. Questions swirled in his mind¡ªwhat was Elysium? What legacy had Asteria left behind? Were those stories Raymond told true? And above all, what had he meant by becoming a mage?The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Despite the myriad of questions bombarding his mind, something else stuck out to Claude. Though Raymond''s entries had concluded, Claude turned the page to find that the diary did not end with them. Upon turning the page, Claude was half expecting to find it blank. However, to his surprise, it wasn''t. The words on the pages in front of him leapt from the confines of the page and danced before his eyes. Hello... Claude. If you''re reading this now, Claude, then you''ve either reached the age of sixteen or... I''ve left this world behind. In either case, what you are about to see will serve as an introduction for you to a brand new world... a world unseen to the eyes of most. As Claude flipped open the next page, unease coursed through him. He could not fathom a guess as to what he was about to learn. After the gods fell, humanity was left vulnerable, scrambling for a new means to harness the extraordinary, to shield us from the looming threats of the subspace¨D a strange dimension that had existed since the dawn of time. In their search, they came across something that had never before been seen on the continent of Arta. Magic¡ªan arcane power that allows its wielders to bend natural phenomena to their will... At that moment, he felt as if he could see the very world around him crumble down and then swiftly reassemble itself. ''Magic?! It exists?'' Since being hit with tragedy after tragedy in the prior several hours, Claude could now feel as if he was about to find a new direction for his future. One based around... magic. Nevertheless, his overwhelming curiosity forced him to keep turning the pages of the diary. For now, all you need to know are the first two levels of magic. Mage Apprentice and Official Mage. In the scenario I had not shown you the method to become a mage apprentice, below is a method to learn how to sense and manipulate your mental energy¨Dthe prerequisite for casting spells and becoming a mage apprentice. The theory behind mental energy is slightly complicated, for now, you only need to know that it is a special energy in your mind that grows with your knowledge base and experiences. Remember, obtaining more complex and novel knowledge means greater growth in mental energy. Next, the pages following will showcase examples of apprentice-level spells. Remember Claude, this path is an extraordinary one. Filled with both peril and opportunity. I pray that you find yourself on this path only by your own free will. As the final words of Raymond''s letter faded before his eyes, Claude felt a tide of confusion and wonder wash over him Did he truly want to embark on this path? For all Claude knew, this could lead him to confront monsters like the one from before more often than he wished. Raymond had also emphasised the dangers being on this path would bring... Yet... Claude couldn''t find it in him to simply give up. Despite the looming challenges that accompanied it, this path wasn''t just a means to defend himself¡ªit was a beacon of hope. A hope that he might be able to find a way to escape the malignant shadow of yesterday. ''I have to... No... I want to take this path. I want to become a mage.'' Recalling the details he had just read in the book, Claude decided that he could try to sense his mental energy now. He had nothing else to do currently. Getting up from the chair, Claude positioned himself sitting on the ground with his legs crossed and eyes closed, whilst the diary was placed on his lap. Taking slow deep breaths, Claude attempted to clear his mind of any distracting thoughts whilst remembering the instructions from the book. With each breath, Claude could feel himself becoming more and more relaxed. The tension that filled his muscles slowly disappeared. An unknown amount of time passed, yet Claude still seemed adamant in finding this strange power within himself. As he focused his attention inward, within his mind and thoughts that he had previously thought were empty, he could sense something. Something ebbing and flowing around his head, resonating with his thoughts and emotions. As he continued to meditate, the elusive movement he could feel in his mind soon became more and more apparent. He could now sense it more clearly, he could feel this... energy. It was calm and serene, obviously hidden within the depths of his mind yet it seemed to feel completely independent from himself. Moving to the next step, Claude attempted to manipulate this energy. Using his will, Claude kept trying to alter the flow of the energy. However, all his attempts seemed to be for nought. The so-called mental energy seemed to simply ignore him. Despite his failures, he could feel himself gradually becoming more and more attuned to the energy. Hours passed, yet, Claude kept at it. He had nothing left, this extraordinary path was seemingly the only thing he could hope to rely on in this increasingly strange and dangerous world. Furthermore, he understood there had to be more of those monsters about. If there was only one of them, and it was the one that chased him, everyone else in the village should still be alive. He has to find a way to become more powerful. Only then could he be able to enact any sort of revenge and how else would he be able to protect those he cared about in the future...? Using every ounce of his willpower, Claude kept trying to manipulate the energy over and over again. This tug of war between Claude and the energy continued until Claude finally managed to slightly alter its movements. ''I did it?!'' As he exclaimed in his mind, his focus collapsed and he snapped out of his meditation. However, he was elated at his success. Delving back into a meditative trance, Claude revelled in his newfound ability. Awe filled his body as he manipulated the energy within his body, changing its shape, changing its movements. Crash! As Claude delved deeper into his mental energy manipulation, a sudden, overwhelming force jolted his consciousness. Claude could only feel an uncontrollable force warping the space in his mind. As if it was dragging him to something. No longer was he in his house meditating... No, he now found himself within a strange space. It was mostly pitch black and seemed empty. In the ink-black expanse, darkness melded both sight and sensation, leaving Claude uncertain if his eyes were either open or closed. Despite there being seemingly nothing beneath him, Claude found himself standing upright with little to no effort. It was almost as if there was an invisible layer of floor beneath his feet. The strange situation sent Claude into a near panic, however, he tried his best to calm down as he found himself yet to be in any danger. As he managed to settle down, he involuntarily began to enter a state of meditation. Whilst in this meditative state, he was soon able to sense something. ''Is this my mental energy...?'' Perceiving the familiar presence of the energy he had just learned to manipulate, Claude found himself relaxing slightly. He understood that he should currently be within his subconscious. With a simple thought, a silver-white stream shot towards him from a distance. It looked and flowed like a silver river, yet the energy itself seemed to be more reminiscent of some sort of gas. ''Is this how mental energy is meant to look...?'' However, despite feeling somewhat secure in his current situation, a question remained for Claude. What dragged him here? It couldn''t have simply been the mental energy, as Raymond would have noted something like that down in the diary. ''No there has to be something else...'' Walking along the invisible floor and accompanied by his mental energy, Claude traversed the depths of his mind. Yet after what felt like an eternity, Claude soon found something strange. ''Is that a tree?'' Within the depths of his mind, he found a massive tree sitting there. Its massive figure spanning a vast distance, the roots which he couldn''t see in the past dug deep into the fabric of his mental space. Despite bearing an eerie resemblance to the tree from the meadow, this one seemed far more mystical. Its leaves turned from a deep green to a pale purple, and resplendent white dots were scattered around its branches like stars in the night sky. ''How... How did this get here?!'' [Misty Path] Whilst Claude was left staring at the thing that residence in his subconscious, the tree before him in all its spectral glory glowed slightly. As it glowed, a small ball of light formed at its centre. Without warning the luminescent ball of light shot towards Claude''s head before submerging itself within his skull. Initially wrought with shock, Claude was soon dumbfounded as new knowledge soon found itself appearing within his mind. ''Subspace network...? Asteria...?!'' In the information he received, Claude soon came to understand that the supposed tree before him was unsurprisingly more than just a tree. It was the subspace network mentioned in his previous dream by the woman who he realised was most likely Asteria. The subspace network from what he can understand was a method to use the subspace as a medium to transport individuals through to different worlds. Allowing sparks of humanity to survive off in different worlds, should the need ever come. ''So that means...'' Claude stared at the balls of light dotting the branched of the tree. ''...those are worlds?'' As he stepped closer to the tree, Claude began to only then understand the sheer size of the tree before him. It was immeasurably larger than what he had seen in the meadow before. However, his footsteps soon ceased as he noticed one of the balls of light beginning to glow brightly. Before he knew it, his vision was occupied by a bright white light. ----- ---------- ---------------- With what felt like mere moments passed, Claude''s vision soon returned to normal. Nevertheless, the return in his visual clarity didn''t bring him the joy he had previously expected. No... it alerted him to something else. "Where am I?" Claude found himself speaking his thoughts aloud as he surveyed his surroundings. He was currently sitting cross-legged in what seemed to be some sort of forest. What struck him as odd was the fact Raymond''s diary had found itself on his lap, just as he had left in the real world. That alone worried him immensely; if he returned from the depths of his mind, he should be at home. Claude looked around at his surroundings whilst getting up from the ground. The forest was visually stunning to Claude, with its vibrant purple foliage that dotted the landscape, creating a vivid contrast against the usual green he was used to seeing. Moreover, the temperature here was markedly cooler than in his world, causing him to shiver slightly. His boots sank into the spongy ground beneath him, the grass soft and springy beneath his feet. Whilst a pale mist hovered before the ground, veiling some of his surroundings and leaving him ignorant of its true contents. Nevertheless, something else around stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Despite the presence of the mist, it wasn''t very dense and allowed Claude to gaze at the sky above despite it seeming slightly hazy. The night sky above him was a tapestry of darkness, void of the twinkling stars that he used to gaze at back home. Instead, a solitary crimson moon hung above, casting a ghostly red glow, creating swaying shadows around him. Claude shivered, the eerie light reminding him of the scary stories Raymond once whispered to him at bedtime when he was younger.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He began to realise that this was no longer the depths of his mind but the real world, however... "Another world?" Claude murmured, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the strange foliage. He glanced around, half-expecting to see a monster lurking, yet the forest remained silent. Heaving a sigh of relief due to him not having to run away from another monster, his mind began to spin as it tried to comprehend his situation. He could guess that the subspace network within him might be responsible for this... but why? The entire idea of it was to send humans into other worlds to not only protect them but to retain a spark for human civilisation. From the information he received, it would only automatically activate if the world was on the verge of destruction or if Claude himself as its host was in danger. The rest of Claude''s world clearly hadn''t been wiped out nor was it facing an existential threat to the best of his knowledge. Only the latter could explain what just happened. "Danger..." Claude''s fists clenched tightly as he understood something. The network must have realised his life was in danger. And the only thing in the area of his village that could be even considered a threat currently to his life... were those things. Claude''s chest tightened as the memory of the creature''s pursuit flooded his mind. Fear coiled in the pit of his stomach, threatening to overwhelm him. ''Think Claude!'' He thought to himself as he attempted to distract himself, ''What would Raymond do here...?'' He took a deep breath, feeling the alien air fill his lungs, and steadied himself. Words spoken by Raymond soon echoed in his ears, "Remember Claude... It''s okay to feel angry or afraid. Those are things that drive us. Spurring us to greatness. Yet, do not let them control you." ''That''s right Claude. Don''t let it control you!'' He thought to himself as a relative calm now pervaded him. Claude then looked around and decided that he should wait for dawn before moving. Then he''d need to try and see if there are any human settlements here, for all he knew this world could be inhabited by a bunch of monsters. Walking beneath the towering purple canopies, diary clutched tightly in his hands, Claude felt a stirring mix of curiosity and dread. His path was illuminated by a sea of red and purple lights emitted by fungi that dotted the landscape, allowing him to have a vague idea of his surroundings despite it being night. A slight unease grasped him as he walked forward, he had no idea what this world held. The information about the subspace network suggested he could return once he was strong enough to fend off the dangers of his world, or if those dangers disappeared. Staring ahead, Claude soon found a tree that was neither large nor small and made his way over. With the diary clenched between his teeth he proficiently climbed up the tree, Claude sat down on the tree branch. "This seems familiar..." A wry smile found itself on his face as he realised this seemed very similar to what had happened yesterday. Laying on the branch, he held the diary in his hand. He traced his finger around the edges of the book as he sat there in silence a slight unease gripped Claude''s heart as he sat in the tree; the diary''s leather cover cool under his fingertips. "I wish you could see this, Old Man," Claude whispered to the empty air, half-expecting a ghostly chuckle in response. "You''d have probably gone ahead and lectured me on the biology of this tree..." Nevertheless, his nervous musings did little to calm his apprehension in this new environment. He let out a slow breath, trying to channel Raymond''s calmness, the man who had always seemed unshakeable no matter the problems they faced. ''What would you do in my shoes...? Perhaps...'' Nevertheless, he was snapped out of his reminiscence by his thoughts. He began to understand Raymond would more than likely use this time to conjure up a plan. Claude smiled faintly, recalling Raymond''s methodical way of living, his meticulous planning that had always seemed so tedious, only seemed to be of value now he was in an alien world. ''I''ll wait for dawn before searching for civilization. But then, there''s the language barrier...'' Claude pondered, anxiety threading through his thoughts. ''First things first, though. I need to learn the magic in Raymond''s diary.'' He couldn''t exactly expand his mental energy now, as that would require him to learn new knowledge or simply grow in age. Whilst, spontaneously growing up seemed to be impossible, he could start learning the spells written in the diary. Opening up the diary, his eyes scanned the content containing spells suitable for mage apprentices. As he chose one of the three spells written in the book, he began to memorise the relevant information. Closing his eyes with details of the spell flashing through his mind briefly before he once again searched for the familiar energy within the recesses of his mind. Upon sensing it, he extended his arm before him as his eyes remained closed. Claude concentrated, feeling for the moisture in the misty air. His mental energy stretched out, connecting with numerous tiny particles. The process was more arduous than he expected, each molecule proving too elusive to grasp with his mental energy. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he finally coerced the water vapour to condense, performing the spell required not just knowledge but also an unyielding will. Gradually, the mist around him began to coalesce before Claude''s palm. Soon within the mist, droplets of water began to condense until the mist grew paler and a small sphere of water floated before him. [Eternal Night] As the water orb formed before his eyes, Claude''s heart pounded with a mixture of caution and curiosity. This was no simple magic trick or sleight of hand; it was a defiance of everything he had known of the world around him. Mental energy. Only now did it sink in for Claude, that this was a power with an almost limitless nature. ''Is this power...?'' he wondered silently, awed by his newfound ability. Tier 0: Water Orb Use mental energy to manipulate and condense water vapour in the air, forming an orb of water. This was the spell Claude had just performed, a spell suitable for mage apprentices. Its initial levels of mastery simply revolved around condensing a ball of water and then firing it. As one achieved a certain level of mastery over it, one would be able to manipulate the shape of the water condensed. Using his mental power, Claud began to try and alter the shape of the water. As Claude focused on the orb of water suspended before him, he tapped into the various principles of pressure and motion that Raymond had drilled into his studies. Manipulating the water ball involved altering the pressure around and within the orb. By concentrating his mental energy, Claude could create subtle variations in pressure that dictated the water''s movement and shape. For example, by increasing the pressure on one side of the orb while decreasing it on the other, he could make it stretch or compress, effectively changing its shape. He visualized the theoretical flow lines of the water as he attempted to reshape the orb into a more elongated form. This required a delicate balance of forces: too much pressure could destabilize the entire structure. His brows creased and sweat pooled on his forehead as the ball began to violently pulse. As the water began to morph in shape, it didn''t take long for Claude to lose control of it. Boom! The water free from the grasp of Claude''s mental energy dropped towards the ground forming a puddle of water which was swiftly absorbed by the forest floor below. Claude could only watch in shock as the orb of water imploded before him, thankfully, it wasn''t too close to him so he wasn''t affected by it. Despite his failure to control the shape of the water, Claude only felt helplessly enthralled by this newfound power. He repeated the process a few more times until pain began to emerge in his head. As he sighed he thought to himself, ''Is this the mental exhaustion mentioned in the diary?'' Raymond mentioned in the diary that mental energy can be exhausted by repetitive use and can only be replenished through rest. If one were to fully use up their mental energy, Raymond states, that would lead to either death, severe memory loss or even a drastically reduced intelligence. A novice mage apprentice could only use a tier 0 spell around 5 times at once, an intermediate apprentice 10 times and an advanced apprentice could cast such a spell 20 times. Claude could himself cast the spell ''Waterball'' seven times. This was higher than your average novice, Claude could only assume this should be due to him having more mental energy than the average novice.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ''I mean knowledge is what develops mental energy and it''s not like Raymond didn''t shove knowledge down my throat for the past few years...'' At the thought of his teacher, a deep sigh escaped him. Looking around his surroundings he also noted that the surrounding mist had slightly thinned due to his practice; thinking to himself, ''I guess I''ll take a nap for now... By the time I wake up let''s hope dawn arrives.'' Laying on the rough tree branch he found himself slightly uncomfortable with its rough texture. ''At this rate how long will I have to wait to sleep on a comfortable bed like at home...'' With his thoughts meandering to his home, Claude closed his eyes as he readied himself to sleep. Claude soon sank into a slumber as he lay on the sturdy tree branch, the diary firmly held in his hands on his chest. ----- ---------- ---------------- Before Claude knew it, he found himself standing amidst a familiar forest at night, the air thick with a sense of foreboding. Shadows danced around him, twisting and contorting into sinister shapes that seemed to leer at him from the darkness. His breath quickened as he looked around, soon finding traces of familiarity. To his dismay, he found Raymond standing at his side, his expression grim and unreadable. A chill ran down Claude''s spine as he realised where his sense of familiarity came from. In the distance, a haunting monstrosity loomed, its form shrouded in darkness. Claude''s heartbeat quickened, his senses on high alert as a wave of dread washed over him as he watched motionlessly as the horse-like beast thundered towards him. Without warning, the scene began to morph and shift, twisting into another familiar scene. Surrounded by the familiar emerald forested landscape, he found himself there at day. Clenching his fists he looked around him briefly before locking onto the first clearing in his periphery. Claude''s heart hammered in his chest as he stumbled forward, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated like a drunken waltz. His footsteps echoed hollowly in the darkness, each sound magnified in the oppressive silence. And then, as if from nowhere, he saw it. A figure lay ahead motionless, the ground around it stained dark with what looked like dried blood, the nauseating metallic scent heavy in the air. Dread coiled in the pit of Claude''s stomach as he approached, his every instinct screaming at him to turn back. But he couldn''t look away. He wanted to. No, he needed to confirm whose corpse that was. With trembling hands, he reached out to touch the figure, only to recoil in horror as it sprang to life, its bloodied hands closing around his throat with a vice-like grip. "IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT!" the figure roared. Claude tried to scream, to fight back against the suffocating terror that threatened to consume him. But no sound escaped his lips, only a strangled gasp as darkness closed in around him. ----- ---------- ---------------- "NO!" With a start, Claude jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest, his body drenched in a cold sweat. Panic gripped him like the ice-cold fingers of a corpse, as he struggled to catch his breath, his mind reeling from the nightmare he just had. For a moment, he lay there in the darkness, his thoughts a tangled mess of fear and confusion. Reality blurred and overlapped with his dream, as he lay there wordlessly clutching his head. As his panic began to settle down, Claude began to realise what had just happened. He had a nightmare More than that, it was a reminder of what he had been so desperately trying to forget by indulging in the magical future he kept painting for himself. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he tried to shake off the lingering sense of dread. "Let''s hope that won''t happen again," he muttered to himself, though deep down, he knew the nightmare would continue to haunt him long after he woke. As much as Claude wanted to see Raymond gain, that was most certainly not the way he wanted it to happen. However, he grew perplexed as he looked around his surroundings. "What the...?" Said Claude with utter bewilderment filling his words. Although he wasn''t sure how long he''d been asleep, his restored mental energy suggested it was more like a full sleep than just a nap. Yet, despite the passage of time, he looked around to see it was still seemingly nighttime. The now familiar crimson moon floated in the night sky, with no apparent notion of ever moving. "Blast it! I can''t keep waiting here. For all I know there might not be day in this world..." Claude murmured under his breath. Carefully placing the small diary between his coarse linen shirt, damp with sweat, and tattered tunic, Claude began to descend the tree. With cautious footsteps, Claude began to tread through the misty forest path. The glow of the various fungi present provided a faint source of light, guiding his way through the darkness with their pale glow. However, his attention was soon drawn to a strange light in the distance, its azure glow standing out amidst the sea of glowing red and purple fungi. Intrigued, Claude edged closer, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar sight. But before he could reach its source, the glow suddenly jolted. Like a streak of light, something shot out towards him, its trajectory aimed directly at his face, leaving him with no time to react. [First Fight] Claude''s eyes narrowed as he hurriedly crouched down reflexively and rolled to the side. As he did so, a silhouette darted right past him. With his body taut with tension, Claude got up from the ground and stared at his assailant. "A snake...?" It was a snake, or so it seemed, with a sleek body adorned with vivid purple scales and a crown of bright azure light glowing atop its head. Despite its snake-like appearance, its striking colours shocked Claude, reinforcing the reality that he was far from his old world. The creature hissed at Claude, a flicker of human-like annoyance flashing through its cold, reptilian eyes. Backing away slowly, Claude made sure to eye the snake-like creature carefully as he thought about what he should do next. ''I can''t turn my back and run away... I have little to no clue about its speed. I need to either scare it off... or kill it?'' His eyes brightened at his final thought. ''Yes! Why simply run away or scare it off with what I''ve just learned?'' Carefully, Claude began to manipulate his mental energy, causing it to surge out and tether the water vapour in the air. Water vapour in the air soon began to condense, forming a small, dense orb of water at his fingertips. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he launched the orb at the snake-like creature. Nevertheless, the creature deftly dodged it with a mocking flick of its tail, as it evaded. Claude''s brows wrinkled at the snake''s movements, it was simply too fast for him to hit. Determined, he steadied his hands as he drew on his mental energy once more, pulling water from the air once again. This time, he aimed not directly at the creature but slightly ahead of its anticipated path. The orb flew towards it with great speed and Claude''s hands couldn''t help but clench in both worry and anticipation. Nevertheless, the snake''s inhumane reaction time allowed it to spring away from its location before it promptly launched itself at Claude. Claude''s heart hammered against his chest, fear mingling with his frustration. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching every moment infinitely. He could see the creature flying towards him with its mouth wide open. Its fangs were exposed to the air, no doubt filled with venom. Claude bit down on his lower lip so hard that the taste of blood filled his mouth, struggling to steady his nerves. Drawing from his past experiences, he understood that he had to remain calm in situations like this. Ducking and rolling to the side, Claude narrowly dodged the serpentine creatures'' lunge. Getting up from the ground, he dashed away to grow the distance between him and the snake as thoughts swirled in his head. ''Think Claude! Think!'' Soon realisation struck him. ''The orbs were simply too slow... too predictable.'' Understanding that the creature was simply too fast to hit with an ordinary orb, he realised he had to change his approach. He soon turned around and formed another orb of water, however, this time, he didn''t make one orb of water but instead tried to make many small orbs of water.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Whilst he was trying to fire another spell at the snake, the creature had recovered from its fruitless attack. Slithering towards Claude at a blinding speed, the snake''s mouth stretched wide open as it bared its fangs again. Ignoring the impending attack of the snake, Claude focused everything he had on the spell he was casting. However, the orb before him soon began to rapidly pulse and violently shake, and Claude realised he was in a familiar situation. Jumping backwards, he watched as the orb of water imploded; flinging the snake backwards due to its proximity to the spell whilst only causing him to stumble slightly. Unharmed but with a persistent ringing in his ears, Claude''s mind raced¡ªthis was his chance. He swallowed his annoyance at the ringing in his ears, focusing intently on exploiting the creature''s temporary weakness. Another orb of water began to condense before him, as his mind flicked through the knowledge he had been taught by Raymond. ''That''s it¡ªsurface tension! How could I forget?'' Claude realized as everything soon began to click together in his mind. His initial attempts to split the water orb into smaller droplets failed primarily because he didn''t consider how surface tension works. Surface tension was like a thin, invisible skin on the surface of water that holds it all together. Without adjusting for that, when he tried to split the orb, it just kept snapping back together- eventually imploding. He needed to weaken this ''skin'' at specific spots to successfully divide the orb into smaller parts. With this new understanding, he imagined his mental energy like a fine-pointed tool, etching small lines across the orb''s surface where he wanted the splits to occur, carefully working against the force that held the water tightly together. Claude felt overjoyed as he saw the orb tremble and begin to form fissures along the lines he envisioned. Soon the original orb of water split into numerous perfect, glistening droplets suspended in the air before him. Glancing at the creature that was now on the verge of regaining his senses, Claude launched the droplets of water at it without hesitation. The numerous droplets whizzed towards the snake which had just snapped out of the dizziness induced by the failed spell from before. Now alert, the creature tensed for another easy dodge but was caught off guard when the barrage of miniature water orbs pelted its scaled body. Dozens of tiny, bloody punctures marred the creature''s body, sending it tumbling to the ground with a thud; blood flowed from the snake''s wounds as it flooded the grass around it. Its eyes flickered with a mixture of shock and rage as it thrashed around on the forest floor. As the creature writhed, Claude felt a twinge of empathy mixed with a sense of shock. Was he really the one who caused that injury? ''It''s kill or be killed,'' he forcefully reminded himself, pushing back against his guilt as he understood he had to get used to this soon. There was no left to protect him. He only had himself. Cautiously, he could only hope and wait for it to succumb to its injuries. He had already used the spell four times. Any more and he would be left in a dangerous situation, especially considering he didn''t know what else he would be facing in this foreign world. As the creature stilled, Claude cautiously picked up a nearby stick and prodded the unmoving form. He heaved a massive sigh of relief as he confirmed it had died. Whilst he stood there indulging in the comfort of the forest silence as he caught his breath from his prior tense fighting. A realisation soon struck him as he stood there. ''I almost died there...?'' The thought along with the sight of the bloodied carcass on the forest floor almost elicited a wave of bile to rush up his throat. If it wasn''t for the realisation of the nature of surface tension, he wasn''t certain that a simple water orb would be able to kill the snake even if it hit the creature. Sure it may have caused internal trauma, but from what Claude could remember about the stories of snakes in the village; they can sometimes even survive decapitation. Something with that much vitality being his foe in this scenario didn''t exactly bolster his confidence much in the normal version of the spell. However... "At least it worked out..." Said Claude as a weary smile crept onto his face. "Halt! Who goes there?" A sudden shout distracted Claude from his thoughts as he turned around, his pupils contracting as he saw the source of the shout. It was a person. No more specifically a group of people emerging from the depths of the mist as they approached him. However, a certain detail unnerved Claude. ''They speak the common tongue of Arta...?'' [Encounter] Soon, within Claude''s field of vision appeared a group of people numbering no more than a dozen. However, they appeared rather different from any people Claude had seen. They all had sickly pale skin and a stocky build. The group''s clothing was a mismatched blend of purple and black, patched and weathered, as though assembled from whatever scraps they could find. While Claude was staring at the group before him, they were also watching Claude. ''Hmmm... A child? Here? By himself? Well, I''d be damned if there was nothing peculiar going on here...'' A middle-aged man with ink-black hair stood at the forefront of the group as he tried to make sense of Claude''s presence. Nevertheless, his eyes narrowed as they drifted to behind Claude, where the corpse of the snake he had fought previously lay. "Impossible! How in¡ª?!" The man choked out his words, disbelief etching his rugged features. "What''s wrong, Karl?" Another man beside him asked worriedly. Wordlessly, the man named Karl pointed his finger to the corpse off in the distance. "That''s...! A twilight cobra! We lost Hans last week to one of these devils!" The second man immediately lost his composure as he shouted. He wasn''t the only one shocked; the others were too. Having lived here all their lives, they were intimately familiar with the dangers around them, including the twilight cobra. Its amethyst scales allowed it to seamlessly blend in with the surrounding foliage, whilst its small and sinuous form granted it blinding speed. That alone made it dangerous, not to mention its venom capable of sending a grown man to the afterlife within mere hours¡ªthus came about its name. Yet, here it lay, dead, its body riddled with numerous gruesome wounds. They couldn''t even imagine what weapon could have inflicted such damage on the snake. Their confusion only grew as they noticed Claude''s current situation. Sure, the boy''s clothes were dusty and stained blood, but he was empty-handed, lacking any sort of weapon. Unless... a weapon didn''t cause those wounds? On the other hand, Claude could feel the tension rise as all eyes fixed on him. Their expressions mixed with shock, fear, and a dash of confusion. Karl, recovering from his initial shock, slowly approached Claude, his stance taut with tension. "You killed it? By yourself?" Despite his questioning stance, Karl would be reluctant to believe that the boy before him wasn''t somehow responsible for this scene. ''I mean... this can''t just be mere coincidence...?'' He thought to himself. Hearing Karl''s words, Claude immediately found himself feeling conflicted. He truly didn''t want to expose his power to a group of strangers, especially in this unfamiliar world. Yet, if he didn''t, he wouldn''t be able to predict how this encounter would develop.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Would they truly believe him if he just said that he, a child, without any special abilities, magically appeared and survived in this forest? And then, this ordinary child just coincidentally came across the corpse of a venomous snake? ''I mean, at least they might be wary of my unknown abilities if I tell them the truth.'' "Yes," Claude after having an internal debate with himself, firmly responded. The group exchanged looks. Then, a woman with sharp features in the group stepped forward. As she approached, Claude tensed up. He didn''t know what this woman was up to approaching him all of a sudden. ''Did I say something wrong?'' Yet, he could only feel bewildered as the woman dropped to her knees before him. "It''s true! It must be true! A real divine emissary!" Her words were laced with fanaticism and awe, tears streamed from her eyes as a smile as innocent and joyful as a child''s adorned her face. The rest of the group, hearing her words, looked at each other in shock as they soon followed suit in kneeling. Watching this, Claude could only find himself wallowing in sheer and utter horror. ''A divine messenger?! Do they know something about Asteria and the subspace network? Is that the reason behind their behaviour?'' Feeling incredibly wary of this possibility, he soon stepped forward as he was about to say something, yet was interrupted by the woman in front of him. "Dear Emissary of Solhart. Forgive me for this blasphemous thought, but would it be possible for us to witness a divine miracle?" The woman asked Claude, her voice had calmed down, though it still held great enthusiasm. "...?" Thankfully, for Claude, the group in front of him had their heads bowed so they didn''t catch a glimpse of his face that was filled with utter incomprehension. With his head spinning, he began to realize what was happening. ''So they mistook me for some sort of emissary of a native God? This might be a chance...'' Claude heaved a sigh of relief as he understood that this had nothing to do with Asteria and the subspace network. However, his eyes gleamed at the situation at hand as a plan started to form in his head. He realized this might be his best chance at coming into contact with human civilization in this world. Not only that, pretending to be some sort of emissary could allow him to explain his ignorance of the current situation of the world. ''I mean I''m a divine emissary. Isn''t it expected for me to be devoted to my mission and ignore the state of the mortal world?'' As for Claude worrying about some divine punishment befalling him? He already understood that the Gods had limited influence in the material world, therefore this God named Solhart wouldn''t be able to harm him directly. Even then, this is assuming he''s alive or even exists in the first place. Coughing into his fist, Claude spoke towards the group in front of him in a solemn tone. "Of course that is fine. So long as you all assist me in the divine task I have been entrusted with." Hearing his words, the people before him nodded their heads hurriedly as they were all filled with fervour. ''We''re about to witness a miracle!'' That thought soon found itself taking root in all of their heads. Rising from their knees, the group eagerly awaited a display of divine power, whispering among themselves, wondering what they would be seeing. A spectacle of flames? Blinding light? Perhaps some sort of healing spell? Unknowing of their thoughts, Claude stretched out his palms as he began condensing a ball of water. Once the ball of water had been fully formed, Claude promptly launched it at a nearby tree. Crack! The orb struck the tree with a thunderous crash, splintering its trunk and sending it crashing to the forest floor. Yet despite that awe-inspiring display of power, Claude only felt pained. ''That''s my fifth... At least I can cast it twice more, that should be enough for now...And it''s not like it''s for nothing.'' As he consoled himself, he soon grew concerned at the apparent silence filling the air around him. Looking around, he found the group of people indigenous to this world held a look of reverence in their eyes as they stared at the aftermath of his spell. However, amidst their reverence... ''Why are they looking at me so weirdly?'' Claude found himself feeling greatly unsettled by the odd look flickering in their eyes. Amidst his inner turmoil, Claude soon realized something. ''Solhart... Solhart... Solhart... No way?!'' As he repeated the name several times in his mind, something soon clicked in his head and his eyes widened. ''He wouldn''t be the God of the Sun...?'' [Celebration] Upon his realisation, an overwhelming feeling of shame consumed his senses. He had just pretended to be the emissary of a Sun God... Then, he proceeded to cast a spell that used water. Turning his eyes to the crowd, he hoped dearly that this trivial thing wouldn''t bother them or make them doubt him. He could only hope... "This must be the power of Lady Mergilda! Heavens! He must have received the blessings of several Gods!" Breaking the heavy silence were the words of the woman who initially identified Claude as an emissary of the Gods. Hearing her proclamation, the people around her exchanged glances of understanding, a single thought springing forth in their minds. Such a powerful person is being sent to us at this time... This must be the will of the All-Father Solhart! He hasn''t forsaken us! "Your Excellency, you should return to our camp with us. Perhaps we can help you in your mission?" The middle-aged man named Karl stepped forward. On hearing this, Claude felt a surge of relief. ''At least that worked out...'' he thought, allowing himself to calm down. "Of course, that would be fine," he replied, knowing full well the value of this invitation. Excitement boiled within the villagers at Claude''s affirmation. "Let''s throw a festival for you, Emissary! A celebration of your arrival," Karl, who was joyful at Claude''s agreement, enthusiastically announced. Though Claude didn''t want to make such a fuss, he understood the benefits. ''If they throw a festival, they should get drunk. Then, it shouldn''t be too hard to get some information from them... right?'' He recalled how the villagers behaved during festivals, their faces flushed with a rosy hue, their words spilling out in erratic, unguarded bursts. Amid his thoughts, Claude followed Karl and his people through the winding paths and dense foliage of the amethyst woods. As they walked, the villagers spoke in hushed tones, their eyes alight with a mixture of reverence and hope as they peeked at Claude from time to time. On the other hand, Claude quietly listened to their conversations, desperately trying to understand the world around him and the origin of these people. From the scraps of information he gathered, he confirmed a few things. Solhart was the King of Gods, and Lady Mergilda was the Goddess of the Sea and Queen of the Gods. On the other hand, Karl was this group''s village chief, and Agnes, the woman from before, was the village healer. ''Yet this creates a problem... Why were a village chief and healer outside of the village? What were they looking for?'' Doubts lingered in Claude''s mind regarding the true purpose of this group. He could scarcely imagine his village entrusting a frail old man like Raymond with any sort of expedition. There was simply no point. ''Then there is also their reaction... Their naive trust makes deception simple, yet unsettlingly easy...'''' Claude felt like their reactions implied something. In what scenario would one constantly be on the lookout for some sort of divine intervention? To almost blindly believe in someone claiming to be a messenger of the Gods...? ''They''re desperate... They''re afraid...?'' Claude began to slowly put the pieces together, trying to explain their behaviour. However, he then asked himself a daunting question. If they are afraid... What is it that they fear...? Amidst his pondering, a sliver of guilt crept into his heart for deceiving these people through their fear and beliefs, yet he couldn''t do without it in this strange world. As the group walked towards the settlement, the landscape opened up to reveal a sprawling camp composed of numerous tents and simple wooden structures. Watching the camp from outside, Claude felt his caution regarding the world around him continue to grow. The tents were small and makeshift. The wooden perimeter of the camp was irregular and messy. All of these pointed to one thing: this was a temporary camp. Thinking of his previous guesses, Claude felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. His dreams of finding himself in a normal world without any mystical creatures or powers, training his mage powers in relative safety before returning, now seemed reluctant to accomplish. Meeting the group at the perimeter of the camp was a group of men, each holding a strange-looking spear. The shafts of these spears were longer than typical spears and appeared to be made of dark wood, banded with segments of polished metal. At the front, the spears didn''t end in a simple point but instead in a complex arrangement of metal that looked somewhat like the head of a large screw. Hanging on the waists of these men were heavy, metallic balls, each the size of a large apple, with unknown patterns etched into their surfaces. Seeing this, Claude couldn''t help but think these men were holding mere ceremonial items rather than actual weapons. "Chief! You''re back! Have you found the ruin yet?" A young man heading the crowd asked Karl with utmost fervour. ''Ruin...?'' Claude''s attention was immediately drawn to the unfamiliar word as he stood in the crowd, listening silently. "No, not yet. But fret not, Peter, we found something else¡ªsomeone else," Karl replied with a mysterious smile, pulling Claude into the spotlight. "With the blessing of the Gods, we''ve come across their emissary," Karl announced, gesturing grandly towards Claude. The group of men, presumably village guards, were shocked at the behaviour of their normally stoic chief. Yet, they understood that if what he said was true, his behaviour would make complete sense to them. "Is it true?!" Peter''s eyes widened, his voice quivering with a mixture of hope and shock as he asked the question. "Boy! When have I ever lied to you?!" Karl huffed, crossing his arms, receiving an awkward look from Peter. After the debacle, the two groups began heading deeper into the village; the simple, rustic gathering of tents and fires hummed with excitement and anticipation. Everyone heard the news of an emissary of the Gods being in their village and that they were going to throw a celebration for him. Elders conferred quietly, children peeked from behind the worn fabrics of their makeshift homes, and soon, the entire camp was alive with the preparation for a festival. After all, it wasn''t every day that a supposed agent of the gods graced their humble settlement. As the preparation for the festival went underway, Claude was brought to a large white tent by Agnes where a basin of water lay and a fresh set of clothes hung on the bed. When Agnes had left, Claude looked at his clothes and realised the current state of them, they were muddied and stained with blood. ''When was the last time I ever got so dirty...'' Claude shook his as he mused. Raymond was an old man who prided himself on his cleanliness, anytime Claude got dirty he would inevitably be chided and told not to dirty the house. Washing his face and hands in the water, he promptly changed into the prepared clothes and headed out of the tent in time for the celebration. As he travelled through the camp, he found colourful banners raised, tables set with tantalising food, and old, hearty tunes filled the air, played on lyres and flutes. The air was thick with the sweet smoke of roasting meats and the tangy scent of berry wines being shared among the villagers whilst the ground beneath Claude''s feet vibrated with the rhythmic stomping of dances. Walking to the centre of the celebration where Karl stood, he felt slightly unnerved by the vast attention being directed at him on the way there. As he hastily declined to partake in the dance, a laughing villager draped a garland of wildflowers around his neck, the petals soft and fragrant. Claude soon found himself beside Karl who was heartily celebrating with his fellow villagers. "Tonight, we celebrate the blessings of Lady Mergilda and the All-Father Solhart!" Karl raised his cup high, then hesitated, realising he hadn''t confirmed a detail. "Erm... Lord Emissary...? Do you have a name?" He asked, turning his head to Claude beside him. "Claude. Just call me Claude." Hearing his answer, Karl continued his chanting. "To Sir Claude! The emissary of the Gods!" Karl shouted at the top of his lungs as the crowd cheered, their voices a unified chorus of joy and hope. Over time, the revelry showed no signs of waning. The village was bustling, with most chugging as much alcohol as they could take. As time lapsed, Claude saw his chance to learn more about this alien world. He approached Karl, who now stood slightly apart, his cheeks reddened and his demeanour softened by drink. "Ah! Lord Emiss- I mean Sir Claude! How have you found the celebration?" Karl greeted him enthusiastically. "The celebrations were wonderful. They''ve lightened my mood a lot..." Claude admitted, his voice faltering as memories briefly clouded his thoughts. He truly didn''t lie. The celebration did help to distract him from his rather eventful past few days. The joy and hope plastered across the villagers'' faces brought some semblance of cheerfulness into his heart. Putting those thoughts behind him, Claude focused on asking the questions that had been gnawing at him. "By the way... You''ve been looking for ruins?" Claude asked tentatively. "Ah, the ruins," Karl began, his expression turning serious. "Why wouldn''t we look for them...? They store, treasure, weapons, and knowledge but most importantly, we can live inside of them. Nevertheless..." Karl shook his head as his words trailed off towards the end. "I can understand why you would doubt our decision to go hunting for these ruins." Karl looked at Claude as he continued speaking. "To even think of trying to conquer a set of ruins, we would have to compete with them..." "Them?" Claude repeated, confused about whom this referred to. "Oh! My apologies. To you, they may not seem to be a threat due to your blessings and the protection of the Gods. I was referring to those blood-drinking fiends and their human dogs." Karl''s fists clenched as he got to his final sentence, his anger palpable. The mere idea of these fiends and traitors seemed to make his blood boil, making him exhibit an anger that belied his usual gentle behaviour. As Claude contemplated this information, he noticed Karl starting to sway, eventually lying flat on the ground in a drunken stupor. ''Looks like I won''t be getting more answers out of him anytime soon,'' he thought, shaking his head as he looked up at the night sky. The crimson moon hung low, a silent observer in the sky, its blood-red glow casting an ominous light on the world beneath it. Staring at the moon, Claude found himself trying to come to terms with what he had learned about the alien world he was in. Gods. Ruins. Blood-drinking Fiends. Human traitors. Every moment in this world felt increasingly dangerous to Claude. Yet, he would be a fool not to link the ever-increasing number of dangers in this world to a possible source. And the only possible source he could currently think of was... the subspace. [Settlement] As Claude''s consciousness fluttered back, he found himself in a large white tent whilst the bed he rested on seemed to be made of straw. ''A real bed!?'' Claude thought to himself as he briefly considered going back to sleep and enjoying this comfortable rest which he hadn''t had for quite a while. However, thinking of his current situation, he couldn''t find in him to rest any longer as he thought back to yesterday. ''That''s right yesterday!'' Sitting up, Claude stretched a bit as he tried to sift through his memories¨Dattempting to remember what had happened yesterday. He arrived in a strange world, fought a venomous snake, faked being a divine emissary and entered a village. Then there was the mention of ruins and some sort of monsters. Massaging his brows, he couldn''t help but wonder how his life had suddenly turned so... colourful? Nevertheless, the only thing that served as consolation was the fact his mental energy had recovered to its peak during his sleep. Getting up, his eyes adjusted to the faint light provided by the softly glowing lanterns. He noticed the thick, black rugs that covered the floor, made from the furs of animals unknown to Claude. A wooden desk, where Raymond''s diary lay, and its accompanying chair sat in the corner of the tent, offering a place for him to write and review his knowledge. Previously, his understanding of surface tension had saved his life, he certainly wanted to make sure he understood all the knowledge relevant to his spells. Furthermore, he wanted to try and learn the other spells in the book. In the apprentice section of the diary, there had only been three spells recorded in it. He hoped to master all of them as soon as possible so that he could improve his fighting strength. That was the only he could find any sense of security in this foreign world. Shaking off his contemplations, Claude got up and placed the garland that hung from his neck onto the desk alongside his diary. Exiting the tent, he cast his gaze upward, pondering a single thought that drifted through his mind. ''It''s still night...'' At this point, he could all but confirm this peculiar feature of this world, a world of eternal night. He only hoped that if he were ever to visit other worlds, they would at least offer a more familiar cycle of day and night. Looking away from the sky and around at the settlement, Claude found himself at the heart of a bustling scene. Tents were scattered about everywhere in his vision, people busily going about their days, children playing. However, seeing Claude, they all secretly peeked at him from time to time. Sensing this attention, Claude could only complain to himself secretly. After all, this was due to his actions. Soon, a young woman walked up to him attracting his attention. She was similar to everyone else with her sickly pale skin and straight brown hair, her eyes filled with curiosity and awe whenever she looked at Claude. "Great Emissary, Miss Agnes has blessed me with the honour of summoning you upon your awakening," she said, her voice trembling slightly with the excitement. She bowed deeply, her gaze cast downward, avoiding Claude''s. "She awaits your presence in her tent. Please, follow me."This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Seeing Claude nod in acceptance, the village woman''s face briefly lit up with relief. She respectfully bowed her head once more before turning to lead the way. The path they took wound through the camp, gradually veering away from the more densely populated centre. As they walked, the woman subtly glanced back at Claude from time to time, ensuring he was following. Finally, they arrived at a particularly remote part of the settlement, marked by a lone tent that stood apart from the others. The woman stopped a few feet away from the tent and turned to Claude, her voice low. "This is where Miss Agnes spends much of her time caring for those in need," She explained as she pulled open the tent flaps, motioning Claude to go inside. Claude stepped into the tent, where the pungent aroma of herbs filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of smoke from the fire pit. The interior was simple but organized, with various herbs hanging from the tent''s supports to dry, contributing to the thick, medicinal aroma that filled the air. The tent was furnished with a bed made of tightly bound straw covered with a thin, worn blanket. Nearby, sat a sturdy wooden stool and a small table cluttered with various vials and dried plants. An open area within the tent was clearly dedicated to Agnes'' work, dominated by a large cauldron. This makeshift kitchen area included basic utensils hung neatly on the side walls and a fire pit that was carefully managed to provide heat without risk to the canvas above. Within the tent, Agnes was seated on the sturdy wooden stool as she sorted through the vials and herbs. Upon hearing the tent flap, Agnes turned around and saw Claude. Giving him a gentle smile, she brought out a bowl of pottage and handed it to Claude. "Oh! Emissary, you''re here. Come, I''ve prepared your breakfast for you here." "Thank you, Agnes." He replied to her before sitting down on a nearby stool and munching down on the food he had been handed. Whilst he ate Agnes continued with her tasks, the tent descending into a silence. After Agnes finished making her concoction, a strange earthy, brown liquid, she turned to Claude who had just finished eating. "...Claude?" She said, still not used to calling him by his name, "I''m sorry for the quiet. I''ve been making something to help those from the village guard recover from their training." Claude shook his head as he replied. "No need for apologies. Perhaps, after this, you could show me around the camp?" "Wonderful! I can also deliver this to the guards and show you their training on the way." Agnes gestured to the mixture which she had poured into a large bowl now. "That would be fine," Claude answered. He didn''t have much to do right now. As much as he wanted to train, he felt ill at ease practising his spells in everyone''s view. Attracting so much attention wasn''t a horrible thing for Claude, but he would much rather practice later in the day... later in the night. Whilst everyone else had gone to rest for the day. This also meant he could exhaust his mental energy and recover by sleeping right away. Getting up from his stool, Claude went over to help Agnes carry some smaller bowls in a sack he lugged it with him as the duo left the tent. Whilst making their way to the training grounds, Claude couldn''t help but note something. ''Have I gotten stronger?'' He was not speaking of his mage powers but of his own body¡¯s strength. Though it hadn''t reached a supernatural level, he realised he was at ease in carrying the sack with him. This was something he would have at least found physically taxing in the past. Yet, here he was, doing just that without sweating a bit. ''What caused this? Mental energy?'' He recorded the phenomena in the back of his head for future investigation. Trying to clear his mind, Claude turned to Agnes. "Is Karl still in the village?" "No. He and some others have gone to investigate some ruins that might have appeared over in the Northern Ridge." Agnes replied. ''Ruins...?'' Hearing this familiar term, Claude pondered for a moment. He seemed to have underestimated the importance of these ruins for everyone here. It was so important to them that they gave themselves no moment of respite and immediately continued searching for it today. They walked through the village, with Agnes introducing some people to Claude and explaining to him the overall situation of the camp. It didn''t take long for Claude to understand that these people all come from different villages, however, their homes were destroyed decades ago due to an attack. Karl was the one who banded everyone together so they could survive, ever since then they have been hopping from place to place in hopes of finding a true home. ''I see.'' Claude''s eyes narrowed. ''That would explain their obsession with the ruins somewhat. And the things that caused them to leave their homes were probably those blood-sucking fiends and traitors that Karl mentioned yesterday...'' "We''re here." Agnes'' words snapped Claude out of his thinking as they arrived before a large field. [Statue] They emerged onto a wide, open field, bereft of the usual tents and bustle of the camp. Instead, it was a training ground where a dozen men, drenched in sweat, honed their skills under the gaze of the crimson moon. At the behest of Peter, a lithe and energetic young man Claude remembered from earlier, the group executed their parries, thrusts, and footwork with unerring precision. Again and again. The group seemingly did not know the meaning of rest as they tirelessly continued. For Claude, witnessing such relentless training was a stark contrast to his own world, where such preparations were rare and reserved for dire conflicts. Only then would people be sent over to train the men in the village to go off and fight. From what Claude heard, the last time this happened was several decades ago due to a conflict between two barons. Yet, this arduous training before him only served to make him feel even more weary of this world. To him, the relentless training brought to light a grim reality: this world was fraught with danger, so perilous in fact that even a small settlement like this required an armed guard for protection. His previous wariness stemmed from mere hearsay and theories, for the first time, he had seen the actual consequences of the inherent danger of this world. Whilst undergoing training, Peter noticed the two people watching from a distance. Peter, pausing mid-drill, wiped his brow and called out with a grin, "Miss Agnes, Lord Emissary!" Prompted by his greeting, the weary trainees halted and turned, hopeful eyes on Agnes. "Miss Agnes, do you have more of the medicine?" A trainee called out eagerly. Agnes smiled, setting down the large bowl of the mixture on the ground. "Yes, my dears, there''s plenty. But remember, the strength to continue comes from your faith as much as from any medicine. Keep your spirits high." Claude helped distribute the concoction among several bowls. Witnessing the concoction''s swift effects piqued Claude''s curiosity. Its potency made him realise why these warriors trained so vigorously without fear of injuring themselves. He watched as sighs of relief rippled through the weary men, their tense muscles loosening, faces softening into expressions of gratitude and respite. Nevertheless, Claude had never seen such effective medicine in his life, and Raymond had never mentioned such a thing. ''Is this unique to this world...?'' Claude pondered as he soon realised something else. This world regardless of its increasingly dangerous nature, seemed to possess a myriad of things that could be of use to Claude. His eyes glowed slightly as his thoughts flowed, ''Don''t tell me... Asteria had this in mind too...?'' It soon clicked into Claude''s mind how ridiculous this subspace network was. Not only does it bestow humanity a chance at preserving itself, but it allows humanity to cross into various worlds, absorbing each one''s knowledge to strengthen themselves. Whilst Claude was lost in his thoughts, the trainees had finished consuming the tonic and Agnes motioned to Claude, snapping him out of his musings, signalling it was time to leave. On their way out of the training grounds, they received the heartfelt gratitude of the trainees.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. However, they still had other things to do, and their presence here was no longer needed there. Together, the duo left the grounds, retracing their steps through the village, During their walk, Claude turned to Agnes with a curious tilt of his head, asking, "Is Peter the one in charge of the village guard?" A proud smile brightened Agnes'' face as she responded. "Of course, he is. Though young, Peter is truly a hardworking lad and is exceptionally gifted. At only 22, he outmatches everyone else in the village in combat. A true genius that boy is..." Halfway, Agnes stopped abruptly and spoke to Claude, "Speaking of genius," With a glint in her eyes she continued. "There''s something here in the village that might catch your interest," She said, leading him towards the outskirts of the settlement. As they trod towards the outer edges of the settlement, the air grew cooler, the scent of moss and old stone filling their nostrils. Soon, they came across a dilapidated shrine. It was an ancient stone structure, partially overrun with ivy, and at its centre was a statue of a stern-faced man, his visage commanding even in erosion. They approached the ancient shrine, and as they drew closer, Claude caught sight of the statue. His gaze fixed on the stern-faced figure, a flicker of shock crossing his face. ''Ardeshir...?'' To Claude, this statue seemed to be eerily reminiscent of the man named Ardeshir whom Claude had seen in that dream he had after waking up in the field. But that was impossible, wasn''t it? ''It can''t be. This is another world. This should just be a coincidence...'' He tried to convince himself. He truly didn''t wish to entertain the thought of a descendent of Kourosh travelling to this world, as that would make this world even more complicated than it already seems. "This." Agnes gestured to the statue, awe flickering across her eyes. "Is the founding king of the Korshid kingdom that served as humanity''s final bastion of hope." "His name... Ardeshir" Agnes''s words struck Claude like a thunderclap, shattering his naive attempts to dismiss the familiarity as mere coincidence. As she recounted Ardeshir''s legacy, Claude''s thoughts spiralled, and soon only questions were left floating in his head. How? How did he get here? Why did he come here? What was his purpose? Was this something Asteria told him to do? Unaware of Claude''s turmoil, Agnes continued. "We know little of his origin. He emerged from seemingly nowhere. His appearance, behaviour and speech were so very different from everyone else." "Yet, following his appearance, he brought together disparate tribes and introduced a new language, writing system and various technologies. Propelling the advancement of mankind decades ahead of its time." "He transformed us from prey into hunters of the bloodborne. His intelligence and achievements made many believe he was no mere man. Thus, a title had been bestowed on him. Solhart''s chosen. Though, for some reason, legend says he wasn''t too fond of the title." "Nevertheless, his reign was short-lived," Agnes sighed. "We don''t know what exactly happened, but his fall was sudden, leaving the kingdom in chaos as those left behind broke it into a frenzy to fight for power." Claude was listening to this brand-new information as he tried to answer some of the questions that he had left sitting in the back of his head. ''So these bloodborne should refer to the blood-sucking fiends Karl had mentioned before.'' Claude thought to himself. Yet, he had one more thing he wanted to know. "When did this all happen?" Claude turned to Agnes before asking, not afraid of exposing his ignorance due to his current identity. Agnes paused for a second, as he pondered for a bit. "Legends seem to say that Ardeshir fell a few hundred years ago... Though the exact date is unknown. My best guess is probably around 300 years ago." Claude closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself time to absorb the staggering revelation he had just encountered. According to common sense, Ardeshir should have existed thousands of years before Claude was even born in his world. After all, the empire of Francia itself had a history of over 4000 years. Yet, here Ardeshir lived merely 300 years prior. "Time... The flow of time here must be different," Claude mused. Under normal circumstances, such a realisation might trigger panic in a person. After all the implications of it meant the possibility of losing all of one''s family and friends to the cold embrace of death whilst they maintained their youth. A minute for them, an eternity for others. Yet, Claude felt no panic. An unsettling calm settled over him as he thought of his current situation, ''Back there, nothing awaits me... Even if a hundred years have passed when I return, there would be no one to notice my absence. No one to care...'' Claude lost in his sombre thoughts, was suddenly jolted back to the present by a distant clamour¡ªcheers and laughter piercing the solemnity of his thoughts. Agnes looked equally puzzled. "Something''s happened," she mused aloud. "Let''s head back, Claude." She said to Claude, who nodded in return, he too wanted to know what was causing such an uproar. [Stay] Time soon passed, and Claude found himself in the settlement for his fourth day. He sat near the village guard as they trained, watching their movements. The guards, worked tirelessly, their sweat-soaked tunics clinging to their bodies as they practised swings, thrusts, and defensive stances. As they finished their current set of movements, the guards sank onto the ground, catching their breath. Claude approached Peter, who sat wiping his brow with a piece of cloth. "Have you guys fought before? As in actual combat?" Claude asked, his curiosity piqued. He needed to understand more about this world. Simply observing would not be enough for him. Peter shook his head, a hint of embarrassment flickering across his face. "No, most of us haven''t. The only ones who have truly fought are the village guards who have gone out with Karl to search for Ruins. They''re the experienced ones." After a moment of silence, Peter sighed. "This wasn''t always our home." He looked at the sky above. Legends spoke of a night sky that once stretched like a vast canvas, alive with vibrant colours and immortal lights, eternal in their brilliance. Yet now, all that remained was a void¡ªan empty, inky expanse. "We used to live in a much larger settlement, a proper town of the kingdom, where we and our ancestors had lived for centuries." His voice dropped slightly as he added, "But the Bloodborne... They invaded and destroyed everything we had worked so hard to build." Peter conjured a reluctant smile. "At least we were lucky. As a fringe town, we weren''t in danger for over a century, unlike those bigger cities..." He shook his head grimly. "The Bloodborne prefer fighting tougher, stronger opponents. It''s why we were able to survive for so long." Claude tilted his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He glanced at the other guards, some now idly chatting, others adjusting their weapons. "So, you''ve had time to rebuild?" he asked. Peter nodded slowly. "Yes. This village was carved out of necessity, but it''s never felt like home. We''ve learned to endure, but enduring isn''t the same as living. That''s why we train. In case we have to fight¡­ or flee again." A heavy silence hung between them. Claude felt a pang of understanding. He knew all too well what it was like to be plucked from a peaceful life and hurled into chaos and danger. ''Would I have been able to continue living in the village if others survived...'' A melancholic thought flashed in Claude''s mind. ''Could we have... rebuilt? Or lives... and the village.'' Nevertheless, with a forceful shake of his head, he tried to dispel these thoughts. ''Not again. I cannot dwell on what-ifs... No matter how much I would want to...'' "And Karl?" Claude focused back on the conversation. "He''s the one in charge of all this?" He gestured at the training ground. Peter''s expression brightened, if only slightly. "Karl''s our leader. He''s¡­ well, he''s the reason we''ve made it this far. When the Bloodborne came, he rallied us and led us to safety. Now, he trains the guards and oversees everything. He''s hard on us sometimes, but it''s because he knows what''s out there." Claude looked at Peter. He could feel something burning within Peter and the other village guards. Something he had tried to chase. Tried to grasp. Hope. He felt envy gnawing at him. Hope. What a distant thought.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ''What is there left for me to even hope for,'' he thought, his chest tightening, ''in this big, uncaring world...?'' ----- ---------- ---------------- Later, Claude arrived at the village centre, where a group of children sat cross-legged on the ground, their faces alight with fascination. Before them stood a young woman with raven-black hair and emerald-green eyes. "The Khorshid Kingdom rose from the flames of war," she began, her tone vibrant with pride. "It was forged with a single mission: to guard humanity against the unrelenting assault of the Bloodborne." "It was Ardeshir who forged this great kingdom," she said, her expression glowing with reverence. "He was not just a warrior but a visionary. He abolished the rigid hierarchy that had governed our lands for so long and gave everyone equal oppurtunity. Believing that strength came from unity, he decreed that anyone¡ªnot just the nobility¡ªcould train to become a knight and be given lands." Gasps and exclamations rippled through the children. Their eyes widened, and one of them, a boy with an eager expression, raised his hand. "Can I become a knight? I want to protect everyone!" Dorothy answered with a smile. "Yes, if you work hard and remain true to your ideals, you can." Nevertheless, melancholy hung in her eyes. Her gaze then shifted, and she noticed Claude standing at the edge of the group. Her eyes widened briefly, and she offered an apologetic smile. "I''m sorry, I didn''t notice you there, Emissary. Can I help you?" "Agnes told me I should come here if I wanted to learn more about the world," Claude said. The woman''s smile deepened. "Then you''re in the right place. Please, join us." With Claude''s presence, she resumed her lesson, recounting the triumphs and victories of the Khorshid kingdom. She spoke of its struggles, its sorrows¡ªand, finally, its end. Her voice took on a sombre tone as she spoke. "As the years went by, strange derelicts appeared across the world¡ªmysterious ruins filled with horrors and mysteries beyond our wildest imaginings." "Wrought with ambition, or perhaps greed, the Kingdom sought to harness the treasures and knowledge hidden in them to bolster its own strength, but this ambition proved to be its undoing." A wry smile hung on her lips as she spoke. "Ardeshir had accompanied his men to one of these ruins. Yet it was here, that he and his men vanished." She paused. "He never returned and his fate remains unknown. Nevertheless, his absence marked the beginning of the Fall." The children listened in hushed silence, their earlier enthusiasm doused by the weight of history. When the lesson ended, they dispersed, chattering excitedly about what they had learned. Their voices faded into the distance, leaving Claude and Dorothy alone. "I have questions," he began. "What are the Bloodborne? And these ruins¡­ what exactly are they?" Her expression turned grave, her vibrant demeanour wilting. "The Bloodborne are a plague upon humanity. Records could not give the scholars of the past an exact date when they appeared. We only know that these monsters only appeared in the last millennia, when humanity first began to coalesce and form kingdoms and empires. When we began to pray to our Gods..." Her gaze dropped at the mention of Gods. "After Ardeshir''s disappearance, the Kingdom fractured. Without his leadership, no proper resistance could be mustered, and the Bloodborne overran us. Humanity now exists only in isolated settlements, surviving in the corpse of what was once a prosperous kingdom." "As for the ruins, they are strange cities that appeared across the land¡ªtheir origin unknown. They house both incredible dangers and untold treasures, drawing the brave and the foolish alike. While the Bloodborne don''t originate from these ruins, they seem unnaturally drawn to them..." ----- ---------- ---------------- Time passed, and Claude found himself back at Agnes'' tent, the scent of herbs and oils thick in the air. He carefully observed her as she worked, her hands steady as she mixed and ground ingredients into a fine paste. Agnes glanced at him. "Did you find what you were looking for today?" Claude nodded slowly. "I learned a lot. It''s helped me understand this world better. Thank you." Agnes waved his gratitude away, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Don''t thank me. Thank the brilliant souls who form this settlement and fuel it with their knowledge and courage. Every story, every lesson¡ªit''s all a part of what keeps us going." Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of loud cheering from outside. The sudden burst of noise rippled through the tent. They exchanged a glance, Agnes''s brow furrowing slightly as her hands stilled mid-motion. "What is going on out there?" She murmured. Her palms briefly clenched before she smoothed them against her apron, as she stood. "Come, Claude. Let''s find out what all this fuss is about." The two stepped out of the tent. The cheering grew louder as they neared, punctuated by bursts of laughter and animated chatter. [News] Arriving at the centre of the camp with Agnes, Claude was met with an ocean of people. Faces lit with excitement and hope cheered with great fervour, their voices merging into a loud roar. The atmosphere was a mix of celebration and anticipation. "What''s causing this...?" Intrigued, Claude wove through the crowd. His status as an emissary made people step aside, allowing him to move forward with ease. He could feel Agnes''s curiosity as well from beside him, her eyes scanning the crowd for answers. At the forefront, he spotted Karl, animated and gesturing wildly, his eyes shining as he spoke to the gathered crowd. Karl''s energy was contagious, and the people around him were hanging onto every word. When Karl saw Claude, his eyes widened with joy. He jogged over, his excitement palpable. "Claude! We found it! We found the ruins!" Karl''s large hands gripped Claude''s shoulders, shaking him with enthusiasm. Realising he was losing himself in excitement, Karl let go and continued, "It was there... by the Northern Ridge. A ruin." Karl''s hands quivered. "Claude, I''m sorry to ask, but could you help us explore it?" His eyes flashed with an apologetic plea. He truly didn''t want to burden Claude and disturb his mission, but the future of his people was at stake. Claude''s mind froze momentarily upon hearing the request, he almost immediately wanted to shout out a refusal. He had no wish to further endanger his life in this foreign world, and he especially did not desire to confront creatures like the supposed bloodborne whom he had heard about. All Claude wanted was to wait a few years for either the danger in his world to pass or to gain enough strength to return. But saying no felt... cowardly. He had already deceived these people for his own gain; abandoning them now would only make him despise himself. Claude mulled over his options before hesitantly looking at Karl. "Could you give me some time to think about it?" Karl''s disappointment was evident, yet he understood that his request might affect Claude''s divine mission as an emissary. Furthermore, Claude was under no real obligation to help them and place his own life at risk. "That''s fine. We''ll start preparing today and set off tomorrow. Initially, it''ll just be me and the village guard." Patting Claude''s back, he added. Hearing a shout from behind him Karl turned his head back before looking at Claude, "I guess I need to get going. Ha! It''s going to be a busy day for all of us!" As Karl walked away, Claude''s conflicted feelings intensified. After a brief talk with Agnes, he retreated to his tent. Once inside, he sank onto the chair by the desk. With his hands clasped together and his head resting on them, he pondered. ''To go... or not to go...'' His thoughts soon devolved into these words repeating themselves. There were benefits and downsides to either choice. As he kept thinking, the choices seemed more and more difficult to choose from. ''If I go... I would not only be repaying a favour, but I would learn more about this world. Karl also mentioned finding knowledge in these ruins, which may help my mental energy grow... But then again... I don''t relish the thought of dying...'' He contemplated, still undecided. His thoughts soon turned towards the camp. He remembered the hope and joy in the people''s eyes when they saw him as Solhart''s emissary. He remembered their ambition in wanting to have a place to truly call home. He remembered the gruelling training carried out by the village guard in protecting the people in the settlement. His hazel eyes began to glow with intensity. Bang! Slamming his fist against the desk, he exclaimed internally, ''I have to go! If I can''t help these people... How can I protect those I care about in the future? How can I become stronger?! How can I get my revenge?!''Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Clenching his fists, Claude found his resolve solidifying. He couldn''t simply run away from danger all the time. Not again... Striding out of his tent, he found Agnes and asked where to find Karl. Upon getting his answer, he immediately headed to Karl''s tent, which was surprisingly modest. "Karl?" Claude called out. He heard rustling from within the tent before Karl came stumbling out, confusion giving way to vigour as he saw Claude. However, his confusion vanished as he saw Claude standing there and was soon replaced by vigour. "Claude?! Have you thought about it?" Karl asked with hope-filled eyes. "I agree," Claude muttered quietly. For a moment, Karl just stared, his mouth agape as if he''d misheard. Then, gathering himself, he managed, "Could... could you repeat that?" "I said I agree to join you on the expedition!" Claude repeated his words, this time with a greater intensity. He not only wanted Karl to hear his resolve; he wanted to tell himself. He needed to make sure he wouldn''t waver in his decision. Karls''s eyes widened as a bright smile stretched across his face. "You agreed?!" He still couldn''t believe it. Yet, seeing Claude''s determined eyes, Karl finally believed it. He clasped Claude''s shoulders again, but this time with a gentler, more respectful grip. "Thank you, Claude. Your help means the world to us." Karl''s smile turned serious. "Next, we''ll gather everyone for a briefing later today. There''s a lot to discuss and plan." ----- ---------- ---------------- In due time, a large group gathered around a bonfire at the centre of the camp, consisting of Karl, Claude and the village guard. The orange flames danced around, vaguely illuminating the faces of those present. Karl stood at the front, drawing everyone''s attention. "We''ve finally found the ruin," Karl began, his voice steady. "This ruin represents hope. It represents a chance for us to find a new home, a place where we can rebuild and thrive. But this opportunity comes with its risks. The bloodborne¡ªthose vile creatures¡ª may compete with us should they also find ruin. However, we needn''t worry..." He looked at Claude momentarily before continuing. "... Because the Emissary has agreed to join us in conquering these ruins." The crowd murmured, a look of relief and joy appeared on their faces as they heard that Claude was joining them. Following this, the group discussed the exact plan for tomorrow. "How long is the journey?" Someone asked. "It should take us a full day to reach the Northern Ridge," Karl replied. "We''ll need to start as soon as we all wake" "What should we bring?" Another spoke soon after. "Pack light but ensure you have enough food and water for at least three days," Karl instructed. "Bring any weapons you have and make sure they''re in good condition. Oh! And, for you Claude, you don''t need to bring anything, you can use our things." Hearing Karls''s words Claude looked around and found no one held any objections and felt relieved. Despite the strange growth in his physical strength, at the end of the day Claude was physically a 12-year-old boy. He didn''t think he would be able to lug such a heavy load on his back on a long journey. "Who should stay behind in the camp?" This time Peter was the one who queried. "We''ll leave a small contingent of guards to protect the camp," Karl assured. "The rest of us will go. We need as many able-bodied individuals as possible." Karl concluded, "We leave tomorrow. Get a good amount of sleep, gather your equipment, and be ready. Our future depends on this." The meeting dispersed, and everyone made sure to return to their homes and prepare for the excursion. Before heading back to his tent, Claude looked around and saw that the activity of the camp had settled down. Thinking that he might as well practice his magic before sleeping, he wandered to a more remote part of the camp. After casting the only Tier 0 spell he knew seven times, his head began to buzz as a sense of dizziness overcame him. Wobbling back to his tent, and, without wasting time, he collapsed onto his bed. Lying on his bed, he stared up at the tent''s ceiling lost in thought once the sense of dizziness subsided slightly. Thinking of the expedition tomorrow, he felt slightly unnerved. He didn''t even know what to expect tomorrow. What did the ruins look like? Would they fight these ''bloodborne'' monsters people kept raving about? Would anyone die? With these thoughts floating in the back of his head, Claude soon lapsed into a deep slumber. ----- ---------- ---------------- The next day, Claude stood at the edge of the camp surrounded by the village guard, their expressions a mix of determination and anxiety. "Boys!" Karl stood before them as he shouted, "Are you lot ready!?" "YES!" The response was loud, but Karl knew he needed more from them¡ªmore fire, more unity. "Listen to me, each and every one of you. This day, this moment will be etched in the annals of our village for generations to come! Today is not just another day." "No, today is the day we rise from the ashes of our despair, the day we break the chains of our seemingly hopeless situation! Each one of you, standing here, is not just a guard. You are a beacon of hope, the builders of a future that our village so desperately needs." He took a step forward, his eyes locking onto each of the guards as if he were drawing strength from each one of them. "Today, we fight!" His voice was a battle cry, filled with a fervour that sent a shiver down their spines. "YES!" The cheer was louder, filled with raw energy and a hint of the fire Karl sought to ignite within them. "Today, we conquer!" He continued, his fist punching the air. "YES!" The response was deafening now, a collective roar that echoed through the camp, shaking the very ground they stood on. Karl paused, then raised both his arms high, his voice rising to a thunderous crescendo. "Today, we forge our future!" "YES!" The final cheer was an eruption, a powerful wave of sound that seemed to sweep away any lingering doubts in their hearts. It was more than a battle cry; it was a declaration of intent, a vow to shape their destiny with their own hands. For them, their family and their friends are back at the camp¨Dthey must succeed! With those words, they set off towards the Northern Ridge. [Expedition] As Claude traversed the mysterious lavender forest, his gaze frequently shifted to Karl, who was leading the group. ''I still can''t believe it... That was Karl? He made that speech?!'' Claude found himself astonished, recalling the impassioned address Karl had delivered earlier. The memory of it almost got his blood boiling again. It seemed so strangely contrasting with the usual way Karl carried himself. However, even as he revelled in memories of Karl''s speech, Claude soon noticed Karl stopping and turning around to address everyone. "Everyone! We''re almost there! We need to rest for a while before continuing on," Karl announced. The village guard heaved a sigh of relief, already fatigued from their journey. The weary group halted their trek as Karl directed them to a suitable clearing to rest. The villagers quickly went about their tasks, some gathering dry wood for the fire, while others scouted the area for prey. Claude sat by the pile of wood and observed the scene with admiration, recognising the villagers'' efficiency. Though he had offered to help before, they had kindly declined, insisting they didn''t want to trouble him. A fire soon crackled to life, bringing warmth to everyone around it. It didn''t take long for those who went hunting to return, guided back to camp by the fire''s glow. Watching them carry the prizes of their hunt, Claude marvelled at the peculiarity of this world. Most brought back hares with pale, amethyst-hued fur, while another group returned with a single deer, its velvety black fur almost swallowing the surrounding light. As he watched everyone prepare the food, Claude felt a wave of nausea. Though he knew how food was obtained, it was his first time witnessing the butchering of an animal. ''Come on, Claude! Get used to this!'' he chided himself. ''It''s not like you didn''t leave that snake in a worse state back then.'' As Claude tried to acclimate to this way of life, everyone else soon joined him, sitting in a circle around the dancing fire. "Chief...?" Peter asked apprehensively. "Could you tell us anything about the bloodborne? Most of us haven''t fought them; we don''t know much." "Of course!" Karl paused his chewing as he answered, "Honestly, I should have told you this earlier..." "The bloodborne..." Karl began, "Are unlike any other creature you may have come across. They possess an unholy amount of strength and a ferocity that would put even the fiercest warriors to shame." His words hung heavy in the air, causing everyone to take a deep breath. The reality of facing such creatures loomed in their minds, unnerving them. "Their skin," Karl continued, "... a deep, dark red, as if forever marked by the blood of their victims. Their hair is sparse and wild, matted with the grime of battle. They wear rough garments crafted from the hides of their prey, adorned with bones and metal scavenged from the fallen." Everyone felt a chill run down their spine as they pictured the bloodborne clad in their barbaric attire, sharp teeth and claws ready to tear through flesh. "But perhaps most terrifying of all," Karl concluded gravely, "is their ability to manipulate blood itself. They wield it like a weapon, using it to ensnare their enemies and regenerate their wounds." Listening to these words, a wave of near panic swept through the group. How were they meant to fight such things? Nevertheless, Claude despite his worry had something else on his mind. Claude looked at Karl for a moment. "You''ve described their abilities and appearance... Do you know any of their weaknesses?" "Ah! As expected of an Emissary!" Karl praised Claude before continuing. "Despite their strengths, they have plenty of weaknesses. First of all, they aren''t very intelligent, they are also slow-moving, and extremely bloodthirsty, often turning on their comrades. As long as we fight smart, we can beat them." "So we should avoid direct confrontation with them?" Someone in the camp queried. "Absolutely! Even if we win in a direct fight, it would be a tragic victory. Traps will be our best allies. We need to pick the bloodborne off one by one," Karl finished.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. A silence hung in the air as everyone tried to engrave his words into their minds. With Karl''s strategy now their guiding principle, they steeled their resolve. The camp sprung into action, making the necessary preparations for their imminent departure. As they walked, Claude noticed the forest becoming less dense. ''And here I was thinking that this entire world was this strangely coloured forest...'' He shook his head in amusement. Their weary footsteps carried them further away from the eerie embrace of the lavender forest. The dense canopy of trees gradually thinned, giving way to rolling hills and rugged terrain. Despite the physical exertion of their journey, Claude felt a renewed energy as the stifling atmosphere of the forest dissipated. As the group advanced, their footsteps echoed against the rocky terrain, and Claude realised they were now walking uphill. The burning sensation spreading from his legs made him knit his eyebrows. Looking around at everyone carrying their heavy spears and rations, Claude realised he had it easy. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the discomfort and pressed on. Soon they began traversing mountainous regions filled with lavender grass. Panting heavily, Claude cast a wary glance downwards. The dizzying altitude made the ground below disappear in a shroud of mist, concealing the perilous depths. ''I''m definitely going to die if I fall...'' His heart pounded as he peered over the edge. "Are we there yet, Chief?" Peter asked beside him. "Everyone is getting rather tired. At this rate, we''ll all collapse from exhaustion." "Don''t worry! We''re almost there!" Karl waved his hands, dismissing Peter''s worries as his eyes glowed with anticipation. The group trudged forward, their breaths visible in the crisp mountain air. The rocky path beneath their feet grew narrower and more treacherous with each step. Jagged cliffs loomed on either side, while the occasional loose stone skittered down the slopes, vanishing into the mist below. Claude glanced up at the towering peaks ahead, their snow-capped tips shimmering faintly in the twilight. The mountains seemed alive, their whispers carried by the howling wind. "Careful there!" one of the guards called out, catching another who had slipped on the loose gravel. The trail led them across a precarious ridge. The ground was uneven, forcing Claude to plant his feet firmly with each step. His heart pounded as he peered over the edge, where the abyss yawned wide below. A sudden gust of wind swept through the ridge, causing everyone to shiver. One of the younger guards muttered under his breath, "What I''d give for a warm fire right now..." Claude, overhearing, couldn¡¯t help but agree. The cold seeped into his bones, making even the simplest actions physically and mentally exhausting. The rough terrain did little to help; every step sent small jolts of pain through his already tired legs. As they pressed on, the path took a sharp descent into a narrow gorge. The group found themselves surrounded by walls of jagged rock, their heights blotting out the fading moonlight. As they moved on the gorge eventually opened into a wide plateau, its surface littered with jagged rocks and sparse patches of lavender grass. The group took a brief respite, grateful for the flat terrain. Claude leaned against a boulder, taking in the view. The vast expanse of mountains stretched as far as the eye could see, their peaks shrouded in mist. Suddenly, a sharp cry broke the silence. Craning their necks, they saw a large, shadowy figure moving along the ridge above them, its outline distorted by the mist. "Stay close," Karl ordered. "It could just be an animal, but we can¡¯t take any chances." The group tightened their ranks and continued on, their eyes darting nervously to the ridges above. The shadow did not reappear, but that did little to sate their unease. Their journey took them across another ridge, this one even narrower than the first. The wind howled with greater ferocity here. Claude shielded his face from the biting gusts, his boots slipping occasionally on the frost-covered rocks. The ridge finally ended, leading to steep switchbacks that zigzagged up the mountainside. The group ascended slowly, their pace steady but laboured. The exertion showed on everyone¡¯s faces, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Claude found himself falling behind, his legs screaming in protest. He gritted his teeth and pushed on, determined not to be the one who held the group back. As they neared the top of the switchbacks, the wind suddenly died down, leaving an eerie stillness. The silence was broken only by the crunch of boots on gravel and the occasional groan of fatigue. "There!" someone in the group exclaimed, pointing ahead. Drawing everyone''s attention, they saw something poking out from the mist below. The ruins...? The group glanced at each other, excitement overflowing from their eyes. Even Claude felt overjoyed at this discovery. For him, the ruins presented an opportunity to learn more knowledge, something he now realised was difficult to come by. ''The Old Man really wasn''t wrong...'' Claude mused. He remembered Raymond telling him that the average man would never become learned due to a lack of opportunity and class restrictions. In the past, he would have waved this off as an exaggeration. Yet, only in this foreign world did he see the truth in those words. Without a teacher like Raymond, Claude was forced to travel to ruins in any hope of finding knowledge. Otherwise, he would have little hope of developing his powers. "Boys! Do you see that?! Over there lies our future!" Karl clenched his fists in excitement. "Come on! We can''t tarry any longer." "Yes, Chief!" the group echoed, their excitement mirroring Karl''s as they descended the ridge. Breathing the familiar air of lower altitudes, they recovered some of their exhaustion. Marching forward, they soon came across what they had seen from above. At the rear of the group, Claude squinted ahead. The pale mist that had masked his vision no longer hindered him, revealing the true nature of the ruins. "A city...?" Claude muttered, staring at the scene before him. The city sprawled out before them was of overwhelming size, unlike any he had ever imagined. Strange buildings and towering structures pierced the sky, their silhouettes stark against the horizon. The skyline was dominated by colossal clock towers and immense chimneys, all encrusted with rust and draped in creeping vines. The houses, were unlike any he had ever seen, standing tall and imposing. These homes, with their vast windows and elaborate ironwork, seemed to belong more so to giants than man. At the heart of the city stood a massive round dome, its tarnished brass surface glinting faintly in the moonlight through layers of grime. From its centre rose a colossal spire, dwarfing all other buildings in size and grandeur. Claude now realized that the ruins everyone spoke of were very different from what he had imagined. [Ruins] Tap! Tap! Tap! Claude walked through the silent streets of the vast abandoned city, following the group as their footsteps reverberated in the air. The cobblestone path they treaded was worn and cracked, with moss and weeds covering sections of it like most of the city. The atmosphere was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional creak of withered structures settling in their decay. "Karl? Do you have any idea where we are meant to go?" Claude looked at Karl as he asked, he didn''t want to wander aimlessly in such a place for any longer than necessary. "Well... I guess we could try to search the buildings around here." Karl scratched his chin as he replied with uncertainty. He had never ventured into any ruin as they were often fraught with danger, so he was as inexperienced as everyone else in regards to what they were to do. However, soon Karls''s eyes widened as a thought flashed in his mind, ''Wait... Danger!?'' Bang! Suddenly, one of the buildings nearby, overgrown with flora and weathered, possibly a former home, collapsed in a thunderous crash. Dust filled the air as the building turned to rubble, the sound reverberating through the empty streets. Gulp! The distinct sound of swallowing echoed as everyone''s throats bobbed in unison. With a nervous chuckle, Karl looked around at everyone, as he tried to maintain a semblance of composure. "Well... Perhaps we should wait till we can confirm the buildings are stable enough for us to enter." "For now, we should probably head to the centre of the city, maybe the buildings would be better preserved there?" Hearing his words, the group nodded their heads without hesitation. As much as their blood was pumping at the thought of conquering these ruins, dying inside a collapsing building was not the way they wanted to leave this world. Soon, they all began heading deeper into the city. As he walked, Claude''s eyes scanned the surrounding scenery. He only felt awe at the variety of contraptions that filled the city, despite their weathered and rusty appearances. Filling his sight were giant clocktowers with their hands frozen in time, scattered around the dead city. Clocks and watches were something that Claude could only hear about from Raymond and were something exclusive to nobility. Yet, the clock towers were all he could understand, everything else was completely alien to him. He could see some strange oval-shaped balloon that rested on a tall building in the distance, its fabric torn and partially deflated. Elsewhere, enormous steel pythons rested on long veined paths of metal. Despite all the knowledge Claude had been taught, he couldn''t even begin to fathom their functions. "Chief, do you think we got lucky? There doesn''t seem to be any bloodborne here?" Someone from the crowd queried, hopeful about not having to deal with the bloodborne. "Aye! You got that right! If they were here, we would probably be hearing their damn war chants by now as they charged over." Answered Karl, much to the relief of everyone around him, yet he continued. "But... I think the bloodborne may be the least of our concerns... I feel like something is off about this place. And, no I''m not talking about those strange metal contraptions." Karl said, confusing everyone with his random bout of worrying. Claude squinted his eyes as he tried to figure out why Karl felt something amiss here. Suddenly, something flashed in his mind, "Animals... There are no animals in the city..." Claude said, further confusing most around him.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. "Yes! For an abandoned city like this, wouldn''t you expect it to be filled with wildlife? Especially prey, shouldn''t they thrive in a place like this filled with nooks and crevices to hide themselves and a plentiful source of food with plants covering most of the buildings here...?" Peter''s eyes beside him brightened as he understood what Claude was getting at. "So where are they?" Karl paused his movements, as he grasped his chin and spoke. The rest of the group understood the problem at hand, and chills crawled up their spines. Such a thing didn''t even cross anyone''s mind until Claude mentioned it. They all stopped walking along with Karl, warily looking at their surroundings as they tried to find whatever would cause such a thing. Whoosh! A soft sound of something flitting through the air managed to crawl into everyone''s ears. Rustle! Strange sounds seemed to be emanating from all around them. The group''s eyes darted around in a panic as they tried to find what was causing these noises. "By Solhart above! What is that?!" Karl suddenly shouted, his voice breaking the quietude that enveloped them. They all then looked at where Karl was facing, and their faces turned as white as chalk. Floating towards them were a group of around a dozen semi-transparent humanoid figures. They wore tattered garments; the males in long, flowing tailcoats with strange rounded hats, and the females in large, puffy gowns with trailing skirts. Nevertheless, that wasn''t what caused the group to panic so hard. One could chalk the strange appearance of these figures off with their brains playing tricks on them. Yet, something that couldn''t passed off as an illusion was what could be seen within the torn parts of their dresses. Where normally one would expect to be filled with flesh and blood was instead replaced with cogs and machinery. "Damn! What¨DWhat are these things!" Someone stuttered as they stared at these approaching silhouettes. Soon, a single thought flashed through the minds of the group as they stared down at these figures: Ghosts Something they had all thought to be from stories and folklore, appeared before, as real as any of them. Cold sweat dripped down their foreheads as they clenched their spears, spurring themselves to fight despite the weirdness of the situation. They had all mentally prepared themselves to battle the bloodborne, but the thought of confronting ghosts had never crossed their minds. Beside them, Karl had already calmed down somewhat and a a gleam of determination flashed through his eyes. His hands reached for one of the spherical contraptions that Claude had seen them carrying before. As he flicked some sort of switch on the device, he nestled the ball at the nook of his neck, and it began to hiss softly. Straightening his legs and pushing his arm out, he flung the ball at the group of ghosts approaching them. Boom! A large explosion shook the area around where the ball had been before, enveloping it in smoke and causing nearby buildings to collapse. ''What was that!?'' Claude found himself bewildered by the result of Karls''s actions. In all his time alive, however short that may be, he had never heard of an object that possessed such immense destructive potential. Yet, now was not the time to focus on such a thing, Claude instead redirected his attention to the aftermath of the explosion. He and the rest of the group clenched their fists as they watched they watched in anticipation. Did it work? Yet, their hope was shattered when the group of ghosts emerged from the smoke, seemingly untouched by the force of the explosion. A sense of despair clouded everyone''s minds seeing this. How were they meant to fight something like this? "Men! I know what you''re all thinking! Our attacks might not harm these demons, but we won''t go down without a¡ª" Karl tried to cheer everyone up with his words, yet his speech was arrested mid-way as he lost control of his body. It wasn''t just Karl; everyone was unable to move. They could only blink helplessly as a strange whispering echoed in their ears. They watched in horror as the strange apparitions arrived before them, stretching out their translucent arms and coming into contact with some of the village guards'' bodies. A sense of coolness soon enveloped their senses as they could feel their body temperatures dropping swiftly. It was as if their bodies were hardening into lifeless steel, losing their mortal touch as they grew rigid and ice-cold. Claude was also in a similar situation he felt horrified as he could feel his body slowly turning ice cold, and the haunting whispers kept getting louder in his ears. He could feel the strangely dressed ghost grasp his throat, blocking air from passing it. ''This cannot be real, he thought, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. ''Ghosts? Are they real? Or is this some dreadful illusion? Am I going to die now?'' Despair gnawed at his mind. Nevertheless, Claude fought to resist. He had to survive. Not just for himself, but for his revenge¡ªfor those he had lost that night. Desperate, his mind flickered to the ghost stories he heard in the village, trying to find something that could help him here. Yet, nothing came to mind, after all those were simply stories to scare children. Claude could only watch on in silence as his body had all its warmth drained from it. His mind drowned in the encroaching whispers, causing him to almost lose his ability to think. Nevertheless, in this moment of hopelessness, a sudden realisation dawned on him. ''It''s strangling me?'' An odd thought initially, but this gave hope to the now breathless Claude. The ghost''s previous ability to avoid the explosion without taking any damage, from Claude''s understanding of ghosts from stories should be attributed to their immaterial forms. Yet, this ghost was no longer immaterial. And this meant one thing for Claude... ''Can I hurt it...?'' [Cathedral] Using every ounce of willpower he could muster, Claude tapped into his mental energy reserves. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing like a drum in his ears as he focused his thoughts. In the astonished gaze of the entity grappling at his neck, a large orb of water began to condense between it and Claude. The air shimmered as droplets of moisture coalesced into a single ball of water. Before the ghost could register the threat in its formerly immaterial brain, the orb of water shot into its gut. Bang! The orb pierced through the ghost with a violent force, leaving a massive gaping hole in its stomach area. It then shot past the ghost, crashing into a nearby building with a deafening roar, collapsing it. With a look of shock coating his translucent face, the ghost could only helplessly watch as his form began to dissipate, unravelling like mist. It wasn''t just the ghost that was shocked by the events that had just transpired. The rest of the group and the other ghosts were stunned; the former was filled with joy and disbelief, while the latter was consumed by abject horror. For centuries, they had claimed countless lives here. Yet, for the first time since their coming into being, they felt the threat of death. Claude panted heavily, his breaths coming in quick, sharp bursts, but he was still unable to move after dealing with the ghost. Sweat dripped down his brow, and his vision blurred at the edges. Despite his exhaustion, he didn''t panic. He understood exactly what he needed to do next. Once again, he reached into his mental energy reserves, condensing the vapour in the air. Similar to when he dealt with the twilight cobra, he generated many small droplets of water rather than a single large one. Thud! Thud! Thud! Before the entities even had the chance to react, their panic-stricken forms were pierced with numerous holes. A piercing wail erupted from them as their spectral forms began to slowly fade like the ghost from earlier until they had all disappeared. The air was mostly silent, the only sound being the rapid heaving and heavy breathing of the group. "We''re alive¡­?" a person spoke up in disbelief, his hands stroking his face as if to confirm his survival. He wasn''t alone; everyone was still in shock from the encounter. When they had set out on this journey, they all knew that they might die during it. Yet, once the time arrived, they found themselves reluctant and afraid, especially when they thought of how they had accomplished and gained nothing during this expedition other than confirming the site of the ruin. "Claude¡­ Thanks." Karl walked up to Claude and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. "Thanks for saving us¡­" Karl shut his eyes as he stepped away from the group, his shoulders sagging. Once he had distanced himself from the others, he crouched down, running a trembling hand through his hair. His face was contorted, eyes clouded over. Seeing Karl''s distress, the rest of the group turned to Claude, gratitude overflowing as they thanked him for saving their lives.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Then, one by one, they headed over to Karl. Peter approached Claude last, his expression was solemn. "Thank you," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. Claude looked at him before gesturing to Karl''s lonesome figure. "Is something wrong with Karl?" he asked. With a sigh, Peter replied, "I know enough about the chief to understand what he''s thinking." Shaking his head, he continued, "He probably just feels guilty that we almost died there." "But that''s not his fault, right?" Claude queried, confusion knitting his brows. "It''s not. But, you must remember that we make up the majority of the village guard. If we all die here, the village would be basically defenceless¡­" Peter answered. A glimmer of understanding sparked in Claude''s eyes as he realised why Karl was feeling so down. He looked over and saw the others comforting Karl, no doubt a sign that none of them blamed him for what had just transpired. With a brief period of peace settling in for everyone, they took this time to regroup and steady their nerves, each processing the events that had just transpired. Claude, however, was trying to sense the current situation of his mental energy reservoir. ''Four left¡­?'' He shook his head gently, slightly annoyed by the current situation. Despite only using two spells, his second one was on a much larger scale than a normal one. Thus, he used the mental energy of three spells overall and only had enough left to cast four more normal ones. After combing through the current situation of his mental energy, he placed his focus on the ''ghosts'' that they had just encountered. ''Were they subspace beings...?'' Claude pondered, it was the only way to explain it. However, just thinking about what had just happened sent a chill down his spine. The mere presence of those beings was enough to freeze their movements, rendering everyone vulnerable. In such a scenario, he was truly the only one who could have ever hoped to fight back as his powers were centred around his thoughts instead of his body. Thus, as long as his mind was unrestrained, he would be able to fire spells at any given enemy. Nevertheless, as he thought back to the fight earlier, he found something that didn''t add up. ''This city... Why were there subspace creatures here? Does the city itself have something to do with the subspace...?'' Questions floated in his mind, growing with each passing second. ''Now I think about it... Why are there ruins in the first place? And, if humanity held the technological capability to construct such a city... Why were they so fractured and weak...'' Unless... This city... No, this ruin... It isn''t from this world?! Claude felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a staggering truth. Links started to form between previously unconnected ideas. And the main link... the subspace. It dawned on Claude that the mechanism behind these ruins appearing here could be similar to how he appeared here with the subspace network. The subspace could even explain the oddity of those ''ghosts'' he had previously encountered. Yet, his thoughts were soon disrupted by the situation at hand as he heard Karl speaking to the group once again. Karl, who remained slightly downhearted but filled with now determination, stood before the group and said, "I know you all may be a little frightened after what we''ve just been through¡­ But, haven''t we already faced the worst of it?" His words resonated with the group. As terrifying as their previous encounter was, they all shared the belief that they had already faced the most dangerous part of these ruins. ''We almost all got killed by a bunch of ghosts before being saved by a divine emissary using the power of the Gods...It doesn''t get scarier or stranger than that...'' This thought flashed through the minds of most of those present as they heard Karl. "Therefore¡­" He continued, his voice firm and resolute, "We must press on and accomplish what we set out to do. We must conquer these ruins!" A cheer responded from the group in response, and thus, with their resolves rekindled, they ventured deeper into the city. With their steps echoing through the looming silence of the abandoned streets, they soon arrived at the centre of the city, where a massive building stood. It was a grand structure, its large brass dome gleaming under the faint scarlet light that managed to seep through the moonlit sky. A massive spire projected from the top of the dome, standing tall amidst the desolation. The sight of it filled them with a mix of awe and foreboding. As they got closer, they began to understand the true scale of the building. "A cathedral¡­?" Karl muttered softly, catching Claude''s attention. "You know what this is?" Claude asked him, curious about the purpose of the colossal structure. "You shouldn''t take my word for it¡­" Karl grasped his chin with his hand as he continued, "But this seems like the cathedrals that were built in the old days in worship of the Gods¡­" ''The Gods¡­?'' Claude squinted, suddenly feeling wary of the building. The city itself had an unknown link with the subspace, and now it was linked with a God, Claude couldn''t find himself not being suspicious of this new finding. "This was used for worship¡­?" Peter repeated in confusion, "But for which God?" His words were met with silence. They all wanted to know the answer but had no clues. Worst of all, as the identity of the God worshipped here was a mystery, so too was its nature. Was it a ''good'' or ''evil'' God? Could they find something useful there? And¡­ would there be dangers inside? [Titans] Despite the heavy atmosphere, the group had no choice but to press on. A potential treasure trove lay before them in the form of this cathedral, a place once dedicated to the worship of the Gods. They hoped to at least find weapons, knowledge, and information that could aid their survival in this hostile world and protect their families and loved ones. Standing at the forefront of the group, Karl licked his parched lips and stared at the massive door that stood stalwartly before him, made of an aged bronze dulled by time and weather. With both hands outstretched, Karl pushed against the door, straining his muscles, but to no avail. His veins bulged as he exerted all his strength, but the door remained immovable. Observing this, the others stepped forward one by one to assist him. Creak! With a unified effort from the group, the door finally gave way, opening with a piercing creak. The hinges groaned in protest, and dust cascaded from the top of the doorframe, shimmering in the crimson moonlight. As they entered, their footsteps echoed in the vast empty space and their breathing hitched. Their eyes widened as they all took in the sheer grandeur of the cathedral''s interior. Opulent stained-glass windows lined the walls, the crimson moonlight filtering through them to cast eerie, multicoloured patterns on the stone floor. Some windows depicted large, unknown machines surrounded by men, while others showcased towering steel titans looming over the humans in the images. The ceiling, higher than any they had seen before, was supported by massive iron columns, riveted together in a style reminiscent of a blacksmith''s work, but on an unimaginable scale. "Well, would you look at that¡­" Karl''s expression shifted from shock to excitement. "A structure as magnificent as this¡­ must have something valuable inside!" The others who heard him shared his excitement. However, their fervour was quickly extinguished by the chilling touch of reality. Clank! Hiss! The sound of metal clanging and a soft hiss echoed ominously in the cathedral''s vast space. Clank! Hiss! The sound intensified once more, the metallic clash reverberating from all directions. Hum! As the group grew increasingly uneasy, a steady, low-pitched hum began to resonate from the shadowy walls of the building. Everyone gripped their spears tightly, determined not to be defenceless again. Claude was also on high alert, ready to tap into his mental energy at any moment. Rattle! The air was thick with tension, an eerie silence enveloping the group. Only the sound of the distant hum grew steadily louder. As the tension mounted, they heard the sound draw closer.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Suddenly, they could make out silhouettes trudging towards them from the cathedral''s shadowy edges. The silhouettes moved peculiarly, their legs rigidly stepping forward while their hands remained fixed at their sides. Observing this and recalling the earlier sounds, Claude was almost certain¡­ These figures were certainly not humans! As the figures lumbered forward, emerging from the shadows, their true appearance was soon reflected in Claude''s eyes, causing them to dilate in shock. They were colossal, humanoid monstrosities, standing three times taller than anyone in the group. Their bodies were an amalgamation of brass, iron gears, and pipes. Their heads were massive, with glowing amber eyes set deep within metallic sockets, whilst their jaws, were lined with jagged metal teeth. Large, riveted plates protected the intricate network of gears of their broad torsos. Exposed cables and pipes snaked across their bodies, with a burst of steam occasionally escaping from them. As the hulking machines advanced, each step was like a clap of thunder in Claude''s ears. The fear they induced was very different from the ghosts. If the ghosts made Claude fear them due to their inherent peculiarity and the stories he had heard since he was young, these things were completely different. These behemoths were something they could physically fight, unlike the ghosts. Yet, it offered the group no comfort. Their size only made Claude and everyone else wonder about the strength contained in their bulky steel frames and how many punches it would take to fell any one of them. ''Are they sentient...?'' A sudden thought struck Claude as he stared at the approaching figures, Especially when Claude gazed at their gleaming amber eyes that scanned him and the villagers, he felt it would be a fatal mistake to think they had no intelligence. Despite the fear gnawing at his heart, Claude knew they had to face the inevitable. These visitors were obviously not approaching the group with good intentions, a conflict seemed unavoidable. As he steeled himself for the impending confrontation, a voice broke through his thoughts. "Claude!" It was Karl. His voice wavered slightly, betraying his own worry. He locked eyes with Claude, a grim determination in his gaze. "If we¡­ if we don''t make it out of here, you must escape. You have to survive¡­" Claude''s fists clenched involuntarily, his nails digging into his palms as cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Those hauntingly familiar words pulled him back to a time he desperately tried to forget. ----- ---------- ---------------- In a forest illuminated by the soft silvery glow of the moon, Claude found an all too familiar figure beside him. "Kid¡­ I need you to run away now." Raymond, still alive and kicking, spoke to him with the utmost seriousness in his tone. Hearing those words, Claude balled his fists as he was reminded of what he had been forced to do back then. Yet, his attention was soon grabbed by the looming horse-like demon that was approaching them. Nevertheless, as Claude tried to ignore his fear and confront the beast, his instincts took over, and his legs began to carry him away from the beast. No! Not again! The thought of running almost sent him descending into a mania, gritting his teeth and all the willpower he could muster he forced his body to stop moving. ''This won''t happen again!'' He vowed with clenched teeth, turning to face the monster. "Kid! What are you doing!? Run dammit!" Raymond beside him shouted in shock and bewilderment. Ignoring Raymond, Claude advanced slowly. Gradually, his pace quickened, the slow march morphing into a hastened stride. Before long, he was no longer merely walking, but charging headlong towards the monster. ----- ---------- ---------------- Finding himself back at the cathedral, Claude''s chest heaved as he grappled with the sense of dissonance he felt from suddenly being thrown out of his memories like that. Looking around at everyone, he saw them panting heavily, sweat pooling on their foreheads, yet none disagreed with what Karl had said earlier. Their tacit silence screamed their intent. Survive. Before Claude could even respond, Karl held his spear up and addressed the group. "Men! You know what this fight entails. But remember one thing¡­" As Karl continued, he slowly lost his own fear and worry. "¡­We are not just fighting for our survival, but for the hope of a better tomorrow." "We are fighting for our families, our loved ones, and the future generations who will inherit this world from us. We are fighting to ensure that they do not have to live in fear, as we have." "We are fighting to ensure that they can live in a world where they can dream, love, and prosper. So, let us not falter in the face of adversity." Raising his spear, Karl yelled with wild determination, "Charge! For our families, our future, and for our hope!" The moment his words fell, he charged towards the approaching metal behemoths. Everyone else soon followed their leader''s actions, charging forward with their spears poised and ready. Their feet pounded away at the decrepit stone floor of the cathedral, as they closed the gap with the approaching metal giants. [Adversity] Claude''s feet were rooted to the ground as he stared at the scene before him. Chaos. That was the only word that could pop into his mind to describe it. He watched as everyone flicked some sort of mechanism on the shafts of their spears as they charged. Hiss! As soon as they did, the spears began to emit steam, a soft hissing sound escaping them, not too dissimilar to the giants rumbling towards them. Whizz! The screw-like heads of the spears soon began to rotate rapidly, reaching such speeds that they appeared blurred in Claude''s vision. "Come on!" He watched Karl scream as the man soon came face to face with one of the steel giants. Vrrrr! The giant in question extended its right arm, and its metallic fingers disappeared, replaced with a rotating saw. It swung at Karl, who dodged, throwing his body to the ground beside him. While crouching, he drove his legs into the ground before leaping toward his foe. Vrrr-Clang! The spear pierced through the leg of his adversary, bringing it to its knees. ''What?!'' Claude''s eyes widened as he saw this. He had been fully prepared to think that this battle would be unwinnable, yet he now learned they had a chance. Nevertheless, his attention was soon grabbed when another silvery behemoth appeared behind Karl, raising its saw-like arm and slashing at Karl. ''No!'' The moment Claude saw that; his mental energy surged into action. With little to no delay, an orb of water was generated and fired at the extended metallic limb aiming at Karl''s back. Boom! A thunderous noise sounded as the spell deflected the attack, redirecting the rotating saw to the ground. Everyone''s eyes shrunk as they saw the blade cut into the ground as easily as a hot brand through wax. The sound of gulping echoed from everyone''s throats as they realized what would happen to any of them if that landed on them. But, they could only clench their jaws as they charged ahead, finding their respective foes. Around 40 villagers had joined the expedition, and there were only around a dozen enemies. Thus, they had a clear number advantage, with 3-4 villagers grouping to deal with an enemy. As everyone else engaged in a massive brawl, Claude, at the rear, had his mind focusing on something different altogether. ''No damage...?'' He thought back to how his spell merely deflected the attack; it didn''t even dent the giant''s silvery skin. Gritting his teeth, Claude didn''t want to believe that his greatest reliance was useless here. Condensing another ball of water, he flung it at another one of the giants that was in the midst of fighting.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Boom! As the spell collided with it, water droplets fell over the battlefield, obscuring Claude''s vision. However, once the miniature rainfall cleared, he could see the damage he had inflicted on the enemy. Nothing. He was once again unable to leave a single dent in its armour. ''Damn!'' Worry flashed in Claude''s eyes as he realized his greatest reliance might not help much in this fight. "Arrgh!" A scream soon sounded from nearby, a guttural eruption of pure agony. Looking in shock, he watched as one of the village guards was felled by the rotating saw blade of the foe he was battling. The man''s body was brutally bisected at his waist, the separation of his torso from his legs creating a ghastly spectacle. Blood spurted from the wound in an unrelenting torrent, painting the ground near him in a macabre red. His face was contorted in abject horror, as the whites of his eyes were fully visible, bulging with fear and disbelief. As his upper half slumped to the ground, his fingers twitched spasmodically whilst the gory mess that was his intestines spilt out. Shock and hatred filled the eyes of everyone as the scene was etched deeply into everyone''s minds. It wasn''t just the villagers who felt angered by such a scene; so too was Claude. Partly due to the man being a comrade despite how short their time together had been as well as the horrific manner in which he had fallen. Claude had become intimately familiar with blood in his most recent few days, nevertheless, this was the first time he saw someone die before his eyes. Not only did he just witness a death, it was one that was so brutal one wouldn''t even be able to believe that the corpse was once a walking, talking person a few seconds prior. Clenching his fists, Claude felt rage and anger boil within him, he felt as if the universe was spiting his weakness. He finally possessed a potent form of strength, yet what had he even achieved with it? Claude thought back to what he had even used his powers for, ''With magic all I could do was kill a snake and luckily destroy some ghosts...'' Hopelessness filled him. At this point, he was completely useless. The only thing he could currently do was to help deflect some incoming blows for the villagers, but how many times could he do that? Two times. That was the number of times he could cast a spell again. His eyes flickered to his side as he saw Peter, the head of the village guard, fighting by himself, allowing more help to be given to the others. Peter danced around his foe, striking it occasionally with his spear. However, he had now been caught off guard and was about to be mauled like his comrade from earlier. Bang! Claude fired another orb of water to interrupt the enemy''s movements, allowing Peter to drive his spear into what seemed to be the head of his enemy. ''One down!'' Claude heaved a sigh of relief as he saw an enemy fall. Nevertheless, despite there being one fewer foe to fight, the fact he was only able to cast one more spell dangled over his head, akin to a guillotine''s edge. On the other hand, despite the fight not going too badly, Claude always kept in mind that the villagers were merely humans. They would eventually get tired, and once they did, he could easily guess how the fight would end. With all of them as corpses. "Hmmm?!" From his periphery, Claude saw something interesting. Hiss! From the foe that Peter had put down, a jet of steam seemed to escape its fallen form. ''Is that possible...?!'' Claude''s eyes gleamed with realization as the cogs in his mind began turning. ''I''ve been wrong... My strength was never magic... It was never power... It was... Intelligence.'' His mind flicked back to his memories. His escape from the horse-like demon. He remembered the sheer terror that gripped him as the monstrous creature bore down on him. But it wasn''t raw power that saved him then. It was his quick thinking, using the environment to his advantage. The fight with the snake. The venomous serpent had cornered him, its fangs dripping with lethal poison. He recalled how at the spur of the moment he modified his spell using his existing knowledge, allowing him to deal with the agile creature. Killing those ghost-like things. Those beings had seemed invincible, their ghostly forms slipping through physical attacks. Yet, he won. Using his observation, he realised that they weren''t always able to immaterialise, so he promptly dealt with them. Even in the latter two cases, his intelligence and quick thinking were what saved him, not his magic. Magic was merely a tool in those situations. A powerful tool, yes, but one that required a sharp mind to truly ever be of use. It dawned on Claude, that he had always used his mind to create miracles, finding solutions where others might have seen none. And, like before, in this dire situation, a strange solution found itself taking root in his mind. [Hope] The battlefield was a cacophony of clashing steel and wails of anguish as the village guard fought with their respective foes. "Peter!" Claude shouted, his voice slicing through the clamour of the battlefield as he approached. "Emissary?! What are you doing here? You should be staying in the rear!" Peter exclaimed as he saw the young boy amidst the frantic melee. "I have an idea to win this fight," Claude replied, his eyes bright. "But I need some help." Uncertainty flashed across Peter''s face upon hearing this. Could he afford to divert his efforts to help Claude? If this plan fails, not only might both of them die, but it may also negatively affect the battle. Furthermore... Could he afford to risk the Emissary''s life on a plan that might not work? But then again, could they afford not to take this chance? The village guards were at the end of the day, mortal. They would eventually tire, and in such a scenario Peter knew all too well what that would result in. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fist around the shaft of his spear, trying to come to a decision. ''We''ve already lost Fritz... There''s no point in hesitating any longer!'' He resolved, the memory of his comrade''s gruesome death spurring him on. Taking a deep breath, he nodded firmly. "I''ll do my best to help you, Emissary." "Good! Follow me." The duo wove their way through the chaos to a nearby skirmish. Four villagers were locked in a desperate struggle against a towering adversary, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they took turns engaging the steel giant while the others distracted it. "I need you to distract the big guy so I can approach," Claude instructed, as Peter looked at him, bewildered. "Emissary, are you sure? You have no weapons to protect you that close-up," Peter cautioned, but the resolve in Claude''s eyes silenced his worries. Gritting his teeth, Peter spoke, "It might not be my place to say this, but thank you for this." He then charged forward with his spear, launching a flurry of strikes at their foe. The others took a sigh of relief seeing Peter, the most skilled combatant in their village come to their aid as it meant two things... Peter had already taken care of his battle. And, they might be able to take care of their own battle now.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. With a cheer, the now-invigorated men joined Peter in his siege of their foe. Nearby, Claude''s heart pounded in his chest as he edged ever closer to the fight, his senses honed and alert. With Peter drawing all the enemy''s attention, Claude was able to slip by unnoticed. Once he was near enough, he focused his mental energy, not on the vapours in the air this time, but on the metallic frame of the enemy. A deep crease marred his forehead as he concentrated on the mechanisms and pipes of the giant steel body. ''There!'' His eyes lit up as he detected an all-too-familiar substance within them¡ªwater vapour. More specifically, steam. These mechanical entities seemed to be using steam as the source of their power. Focusing, he used his mental energy to tether the steam inside the enemy, and with all his might he pulled it out of the giant. Clank! The steel titan abruptly came to a standstill, its once menacing movements silenced. Thud! A moment of eerie quietude fell over the battlefield, only to be shattered by the thunderous sound of the giant''s collapse. Its formidable form now lay motionless on the ground, the once fearsome adversary reduced to a mere inert mass of metal. Seeing this, not only were the men fighting shocked, but others nearby felt awed by this scene. Their morale which was dipping mere moments ago soon reignited; and a blazing sense of determination and revenge for their fallen comrades burned within them. Near Claude, Peter was similarly shocked by how the fearsome being he had just been fighting had now fallen. "It''s dead?" Peter approached cautiously, stabbing its head with his rotating spearhead to confirm. When the foe remained motionless as his spearhead pierced its skull, a wave of joy washed over him. "Emissary! We did¡ª" His celebration was cut short as he saw Claude wobble slightly. Peter rushed forward, supporting the unsteady boy. "Emissary! What''s wrong?" "It''s nothing... Just slightly exhausted," Claude replied, clutching his head. He calculated swiftly, realising he had cast seven spells already. ''But considering that wasn''t a full spell... I should be able to do it one more time,'' He thought, recognising the dire necessity of his magic. ''I can''t just hide away... If we lose this fight, it''s not like I''m going to be safe and sound...'' "Peter! Bring me to another fight... I can do this one more time. The rest of you... just follow me and Peter." Without hesitation, Peter hoisted the exhausted Claude onto his back and rushed toward another battle. The others who were left behind fell into a slight struggle as they watched the departing figure of Peter and Claude. Should they follow or help their struggling comrades? Nevertheless, glancing at the unmoving hunk of metal lying near them, they soon came to a decision and ran after the pair. Why hesitate any longer? The boy had already helped fell their foe, the least they could do was trust him. Peter and Claude soon arrived at another confrontation. Just like before, the villagers were besieging the steel titan in turns, making sure not to get caught out of position and cleaved. The others who had now joined them also saw this and looked hesitantly at Claude who was still being carried by Peter. "Go join them." Said Claude and with those words they all charged forward with their spears raised. Using this distraction and with Peter''s assistance, Claude neared the monstrosity and used his mental energy to draw out the steam from within the behemoth. Thud! Another foe collapsed, rendered harmless by Claude''s power. ''That''s two I''ve taken down... Including the one Peter took down earlier, we should at least have the upper hand now...'' But before Claude could see the outcome of the battle, his vision blurred before darkness overtook him Peter who had already felt the lack of movement from Claude panicked and immediately rushed away from the battlefield. Placing Claude at the edge of the Cathedral, he took the boy''s pulse. "Still alive..." A sigh escaped Peter as he realised Claude was merely exhausted. Looking around he found the two groups he had liberated with Claude had gone and joined the others, managing to fell another foe. ''There are only eight of them left...'' Peter thought to himself relievedly. Quickly surveying the area around them and finding now danger, he was relieved and picked up his spear. Taking one last glance at the sleeping Claude, Peter rushed into battle, determined to end the bloodshed as soon as possible. [Aftermath] "Arghh... What happened...?" Claude''s vision blurred as he opened his eyes, trying to look around him. The last thing he remembered was taking down two of those monstrosities, but he didn''t know how the battle ended. ''At least I''m alive... That must mean we won¡ª'' His thoughts were interrupted by a terrible pain assaulting his skull. It felt as if a clamp was pressing against his head, threatening to crush it. The merciless torment gnawed at him for an unknown amount of time before it subsided. Was it gone? Or did Claude grow numb to it? He didn''t know the answer but was thankful he could now think clearly. Unsteadily standing up, he surveyed his surroundings as his vision began to clear up. "Emissary?!" A voice filled with pleasant surprise came from his right. He turned and found the villagers sitting in a circle on the floor, most stained with blood and ripping cloth from their attire to wrap the wounds of the injured. "Peter...?" Recognizing the person who called out his name, Claude''s thoughts rapidly gained clarity. "How was the fight? Did we win?!" Desperate to set his mind at ease, he asked despite all signs indicating their victory. With a complicated look flashing in his eyes, Peter answered, "We won..." He gestured over his shoulders. Following Peter''s movements, Claude''s eyes locked onto a large pile of machines scattered on the cathedral floor. Unlike the ones he had taken down, these were covered in horrific scars marring their silver skin. The sight relieved Claude, understanding they were safe for now. However, Peter wasn''t done speaking, "But we lost too many men..." said the boy-turned-warrior, shaking his head. Initially, Claude was confused, but he soon saw what Peter meant. Corpses. Dozens of corpses were lined up on the floor in an orderly manner, unlike the haphazard way the enemies lay. They were all familiar faces, that now lay in an eternal silence. Claude had initially only taken a cursory glance at the surviving village guard before but now realised they merely numbered slightly more than twenty. That meant almost half had fallen in this fight. Yet, as he took it all in, Claude could only feel... a void in his chest. His mind had been battered more in these few days than ever before. Despite staring at the corpses of his fallen comrades, it was as if Claude was looking through them at something else. An all-devouring sense of emptiness gnawed at his heart. Anger. Sadness. Despair. The emotions he had expected didn''t appear. It felt like he wasn''t even there, but instead, he was looking through the eyes of a boy named Claude. Patting Claude''s shoulder, Peter mistakenly thought the motionless boy was in shock and drowning in guilt. "There''s no need to worry, this wasn''t your fault."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Gaining Claude''s attention, Peter felt relieved. Disregarding Claude''s status as an emissary, at the end of the day, Claude was merely a child. Powerful, yes. But still a child. And Peter didn''t want a soul as young as this to suffer from guilt, especially when it wasn''t Claude''s fault. "You''ve done your best. Without you, we wouldn''t even have been able to win the battle. Look, even with you taking down two of them, we almost lost..." Peter sighed, thinking of the previous battle. If it wasn''t for Claude, he and the others wouldn''t have been freed up, which allowed them to overwhelm the enemies with sheer numbers. "Come on, everyone''s waiting for you," Peter said, pulling Claude along towards the others, snapping him out of his thoughts. Soon, Claude found himself sitting amongst everyone else. Despite their apparent grief, they all did their best to thank Claude for his help with smiles on their faces. Among them was Karl, who looked as if he had aged several years despite the absence of any major wounds on him. "Claude... Are you feeling better?" he asked. "I''m okay, other than a headache... I''ve been meaning to ask, but have you already checked the cathedral? Are there any more dangers here?" Claude replied. "I haven''t checked yet. I had to stand and guard the wounded," said Karl. "Claude, could you join Peter and me in searching the other areas of the building? I don''t think there will be any more dangers here, but if there were, we should be able to escape at least." Claude paused, his mind rapidly turning. ''My time asleep allowed me to recover around three spells worth of mental energy, and with these two close by me, there shouldn''t be any dangers...'' he thought. However, there was one more thing that drove him: knowledge. It was one of the main reasons he wanted to join the expedition, and now after this arduous chain of events, he was finally able to search for information. ''Maybe I can find something regarding those big steel giants...?'' The prospect lit a fire of enthusiasm in him. If he could learn about those foes, especially their use of steam as a power source, it would greatly increase his understanding of steam and boost his mental energy. "That should be fine," Claude answered and looked at Peter, who was by his side. "Are you sure, Claude? You have only just recovered. Don''t you need more rest?" Peter asked. Though touched by the gesture, Claude denied the proposal, "I''m fine. It would be better to scout the area for any more danger than simply rest here. We don''t want to get caught off-guard again." Thus, the trio soon found themselves leaving the others behind to recover and headed to the rear end of the cathedral. ''An altar?'' Claude pondered as he stared at the scene before him. A large silver altar stood before them, with a book lying on it. Nevertheless, this book differed from all the other books Claude had ever seen. It had a cover made of a sturdy piece of steel and a spine made of interconnected metal pieces. Out of curiosity, Claude stepped forth and grabbed the book. Yet... "Is something wrong, Claude?" Karl asked, as he and Peter immediately raised their spears, ready for a conflict. "No, I just... can''t lift this book." Embarrassed, Claude had no way to lie about this and simply spoke the truth. Initially, Karl and Peter thought Claude was kidding, but seeing his serious expression, their disbelief faltered. They then tried to lift the book to no avail, even with the veins on their forearms bulging. "Can you two try to turn the page instead of lifting the book?" Claude suggested. Hearing this, the pair''s eyes lit up as they used their strength to pry open the cover of the book. This time they succeeded, and the true contents of the book appeared before them. "Huh?" A sound of sheer confusion escaped all three of them. What appeared on the page were words, words carved into the thin silver pages of the book. But these words were in a completely different language, one none had ever seen before. Disappointment crept into Claude''s mind as he saw this. He realized his attempts to learn more had failed before even starting. Even if he wanted to learn the language, it would take far too long with just this single book. Despite the disappointing discovery, they all began to head past the altar to search for more. Soon they happened across a massive doorway at the rear of the building. It looked eerily similar to the entrance but was missing the door. Stepping inside, they found it much brighter than the main body of the cathedral. The windows were mostly clear bar being stained with a thin layer of dust. However, what shocked them was what was inside the room. At the centre was a massive statue of iron. It depicted a towering figure sitting on an uncanny steel throne. Despite the human appearance of the being, it was eerily reminiscent of the ghosts they had seen before. The figure had gears and pistons where one would normally find a stomach. At its feet were rows of strangely shaped tools and armour that seemed alien to the three of them. Elsewhere in the room, bookshelves lined the walls, filled with books similar to the one they had seen earlier. Taking this all in, Claude''s eyes shone with unprecedented brilliance. ''This is it...'' [Years] Years passed with nought but a flicker since Claude had arrived in this strange world. After the village guard had recuperated, everyone scouted the city further and confirmed there was no more danger present. Thus, they soon returned to camp and began preparing to move to the ruins. In terms of settlement, they could only inhabit the buildings in the centre of the city, which were less decrepit as they were forged of steel. Those in the outer rims of the city were hazardous to be around, let alone live in. The village guards were given priority in picking where to live first, and even then Claude had greater priority due to his feats. Without even uttering a word, Claude was given a manor at the heart of the city close to the cathedral. It was something Claude could only guess had belonged to the city governor or lord. Within a spacious room, a now older-looking Claude stood staring at one of the many bookshelves that lined its walls. He still possessed his familiar brown hair and hazel eyes. Yet his facial features had lost their youth and gained a certain sharpness. No longer was Claude a mere 12-year-old child; he had now grown to become 18 years of age. Whoosh! With a gentle wave of his arm, Claude condensed a large hand made of water. The hand then lifted a metallic book and held it up in front of him. Codex: Cult Machina Sacra He read the words on the cover, words that had once seemed illegible to him. Nevertheless, Claude had spent much of his time trying to decode the strange language. It took him four years to learn the language, though he could not speak it for rather obvious reasons. And another two years to sift through all the knowledge lying around. The book he was holding, from what he understood, was a historical record of the group who had constructed the city. Cult Machina Sacra From what Claude understood, they were machine-worshipping scholars who believed that machines had souls and were therefore alive. Thus, each and every machine held great importance to them. Despite Claude''s confusion at their devotion to machines, he couldn''t deny their technological capabilities. With all the knowledge he had absorbed, he could very well recreate a mechanical army with enough resources, similar to those he had fought with earlier. As he turned the page, the text continued, detailing the beliefs and history of the Cult Machina Sacra. In the beginning, there was nothing but chaos. This chaos birthed an entity that existed in the vast void. Cogus was his name. Alone and weary, he soon decided to create new life to bring order to the chaos. Thus, life was born. First, Cogus created animals, but they were wild and untamed, lacking purpose. Dissatisfied with their crude nature, Cogus sought to perfect his creation. Through countless trials and errors, he crafted us, humans, as the pinnacle of his work. Realizing the potential of his newfound creations, he bestowed upon us our greatest gift¡ªknowledge.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. With this sacred gift, humanity embarked on a path never before seen. We learned to harness the elements, to shape the world around us, but this was not enough for the faithful followers of Cogus. We yearned to understand our creator''s essence and to honour his divine ingenuity. Thus, we turned to machines. It was our attempt to embody Cogus''s perfection. His ability of creation. We believed that machines, unlike the fleeting and fallible forms of flesh, could achieve the purity and precision Cogus desired. Our devotion led us to worship these creations as extensions of our god. Each gear, each piston, was a sacred relic, a testament to the divine craftsmanship of Cogus¨Dthe creator. In our pursuit, we forged titans of steel, great constructs that mirrored the power of Cogus himself. These machines were not mere tools; they were living entities, infused with the soul of our god. We built vast cities of metal and steam, where the hum of machinery was a constant hymn of praise to Cogus. Our scholars, ever so the path finders, dedicated their lives to the study and veneration of these mechanical beings, seeking to unlock the divine secrets embedded within them. Fused with divine knowledge and our mechanical creations, we drew closer to our god. We augmented our bodies with steel and gears, becoming one with the machines we revered. Our priests, the Techno-Theurgists, led us in rituals to honour Cogus, maintaining the sacred balance between flesh and metal. Through this union, we believed we could transcend our mortal limitations and achieve a state of divine perfection. Yet, with great knowledge came great responsibility. Cogus warned us of the dangers of hubris and the potential for corruption. We were tasked with preserving the sanctity of our creations, ensuring they remained pure embodiments of his divine will. Our greatest triumphs were tempered with humility, as we remembered the chaos from which we were born and the order we were chosen to uphold. We thrived in the pursuit of knowledge, the creation of machines, and the worship of Cogus. Our legacy was etched in the annals of history, a testament to the sacred path we walked. As Claude finished reading, the weight of the text settled upon him. The dedication of the Cult Machina Sacra to their god and their machines was both awe-inspiring and unsettling. Their combination of faith and technology was unlike anything he had ever encountered, raising more questions about the true nature of Cogus and the fate of this once-great civilization. From books like this, Claude''s understanding of the cult greatly increased. Furthermore, he could all but confirm that the statue at the cathedral was one depicting Cogus. However, was Cogus a real God? One akin to Asteria? Those were some of the many questions Claude couldn''t yet figure out. Closing the book and placing it back on the shelf with his spell, Claude momentarily closed his eyes. ''Despite learning their knowledge, beliefs, and history, I couldn''t find anything regarding what caused the city to become like this...'' Slight annoyance flickered in Claude''s eyes as he mused. All he currently knew was that this city was originally from a country named Avalon. A nation whose name, from what he had gathered from Agnes and Karl, was unsurprisingly never heard of in this world. Knock! Knock! Snapping him out of his thoughts was the sound of knocking on the door. "Claude?" A voice called out to him from outside. Opening the door, Claude was soon met with a familiar face. "Peter? Are you here for the weapons?" said Claude. "Yes, sorry to bother you about it." Peter awkwardly scratched the back of his head as he replied. Unlike years ago, Peter had grown much more familiar with Claude and was on a first-name basis with him. "Don''t worry about it. It probably benefited me more than you..." Claude spoke, with the latter half of his words descending into a whisper. "What?" Peter raised a brow, bewildered by what Claude was saying. "Don''t worry about it. Anyway, I''ll go get the weapons." After heading back inside for a moment, Claude returned carrying dozens of spears and other tools in countless hands made of water. Among the other things he carried were what he had learned were called ''steam rifles.'' Ranged weapons that fired strange metal projectiles called ''bullets'' at high speeds towards a target. "Tsk." Peter clicked his tongue as he watched Claude''s practiced movements. "It has only been a few years, yet you have grown in strength. Well, that is expected of an emissary." "Enough about that. I heard your daughter is about to celebrate her second birthday?" Gently shaking his head at Peter''s boasting, Claude changed the subject. "Oh? You mean Ida?" said Peter, a sheepish smile stretching across his face as he heard his daughter''s name. "Yes. It''ll be her second birthday in a week''s time. Dorothy and I both hope you can join us then." "Ah? That would be fine. I should be able to make it, not like I have much left to do now." Yet, perplexing Claude was Peter''s face as he agreed. It lacked the happiness he would have expected from the man. "Is it already time...?" Peter muttered under his breath before continuing. "Would that mean you''re leaving here soon, Claude?" [City] A sigh escaped Claude as he heard Peter''s words. "Yes... I should most likely be leaving in a few weeks," said Claude. "Is that so?" Peter spoke, his head hanging slightly low. "You have been delayed here for quite a while, you will probably need to go ahead and complete whatever task has been entrusted to you by Solhart." He paused, looking into Claude''s eyes as he continued. "At least come by here and visit if you are ever free in the future." His words were tinged with hope. Claude had grown to be a close friend of his and he didn''t wish for him to simply disappear without a trace. "Don''t worry." Claude smiled as he replied. "I''ll be sure to return in the near future after completing my mission." Peter heard these words and was relieved, feeling as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders. Grabbing the array of weapons and shoving them into the large sack that he had brought; Peter waved goodbye to Claude as he carried the sack to the newly established barracks in the city. Watching Peter''s silhouette disappear from his vision, the smile on Claude''s face slowly faded away. Despite not wanting to lie to the face of his friend, Claude couldn''t just outright tell him he wasn''t an Emissary and that he wouldn''t be returning. Even if he did, how would he explain he wasn''t from this world in the first place? The subspace network had already notified Claude that he could return back to his world any moment now. Was it because the danger had passed? Or was it due to his growing in strength? Claude wasn''t sure which one it was, but he knew what it meant. He was going to return soon. The only reason he didn''t return right away was his inherent curiosity about this world. Would he be able to find more ruins packed to the brim with advanced technologies and weapons? Claude hoped that might be the case despite how unlikely that may be. Furthermore, the difference in time between his world and this one only complicated things further. He returned to the library he had initially been in, staring at the various books. "I''m done with everything here then..." He walked over to a sturdy wooden desk and picked up Raymond''s diary from it. "I guess I should say my goodbyes and tell them ahead of time." Though he wouldn''t be leaving immediately, he wished to give some sort of notice to those whom he had grown closer to. Placing the book, under his outermost layer of clothing he hurried out of the house. As he strolled through the city, his eyes wandered around taking in the bustling scenery around him. Unlike when he had initially come to the city, it no longer held a sense of lifelessness. Instead, the inner ring of the city was now filled with villagers as they went about their daily lives. Every time they saw him they would bow in reverence. After all, his previous actions wherein he helped the village conquer the city spread rather swiftly and made his reputation skyrocket. ''The inner ring...?'' As he thought about the bustling inner ring, he thought of the still desolate outer reaches of the city. Due to its decrepit and dangerous nature, the villagers had yet to go and inhabit the region. Perhaps once the population experiences a surge they may be forced to do so. Nevertheless, that wasn''t what was floating in his mind. What hung in the back of his mind were the ghosts that he had encountered over there.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Through his years of reading the various texts he had found, he could explain a lot of things in the city. The strange floating balloons were something called ''airships''. The veined metal paths were rail lines and the strange metal serpents that lay on them were ''trains''. However, the ghosts made no sense to Claude. They weren''t some sort of technology recorded in the books and were instead probably some sort of subspace creature. After all, despite the Techno-Theurgists of the cult fusing themselves with metal, they were never stated to transcend their physical body. So, who or what were those things? Strange unknown creatures? Were they brought here from the subspace? Or, were they residents of the city? If, so why? Why were they turned into such strange creatures? As Claude found himself submerged in a sea of doubt, he was snapped out of his daze once he realised he had arrived at his destination. Agnes'' Apothecary The name of the building was hung on a clean wooden board that dangled from a line of rope above the entrance. Stepping inside, a chime rang out and Claude was met with the now-familiar scent of medicine and herbs. The walls of the shop were made of polished steel, similar to all the other buildings nearby. The floor is laid with cobblestones, worn smooth by the ruthless onslaught of time. Against the walls, tall steel shelves are meticulously arranged with glass bottles and jars filled with colourful concoctions and dried herbs. In the centre of the room, a large wooden counter serves as the heart of the apothecary. The counter was scattered with various tools of the trade¨Dmortar and pestle, scales, and beakers¨Dexuding a sense of organised chaos. Behind the counter was Agnes, talking animatedly to Karl who rested his body on the counter. "Oh my! Look who we have here! Isn''t this a rare visitor?" Agnes chuckled as she teased Claude who had entered. "Come on Agnes don''t tease the boy. How have you been Claude? I heard you helped the village¨D No, it should be called the city guard... I heard you helped repair their weapons?" Karl shook his head as he spoke to Claude. "Oh? Have you heard about that?" Claude raised a brow, surprised by how well-informed Karl was. Puffing up his chest Karl spoke up proudly, "Who do you think I am boy? I''m the City Chief. I''ve got my ways." "Stop boasting Karl. Didn''t Peter tell you about this a day prior?" Agnes spoke mercilessly, her words piercing Karl''s briefly inflated ego. Claude chuckled mirthlessly at their antics, finding himself relaxing and indulging in the warm atmosphere. "Well, I did repair their weapons," Claude said, pausing for a moment before continuing. "Though I did find something odd." Curious about what Claude was referring to, Karl asked. "Odd?" "The spears you and others were using, seemed very similar to the weapons we had found here. Do you know where you got those spears from?" Asked Claude. "Hm? I can''t say for certain." Karl crossed his arms as he fell into contemplation. "From what I know, they had been found by our forefathers generations ago from a ruin..." Raising his head he looked up from his pondering. "You don''t mean to say that they found these weapons here? Hah! Talk about coincidence." Similar to Karl, Clade was also rather surprised that these ruins had been discovered before. He could also guess why they never returned there... The ghosts. I mean unlike Claude, a normal person wouldn''t be able to harm them. So, it was very likely they just had to make do with the things that they had uncovered such as those spears. "Enough about all that. What is it that brings you here Claude?" Agnes spoke up all of a sudden, breaking Claude away from his musings. "Oh, that''s right..." Claude took a moment to recollect himself. "It''s about my mission." He had to force himself and use his forged identity to explain his decisions. "I''ll probably have to leave the city soon." Agnes'' and Karl''s eyes widened in shock, they had known this day may come but it still felt too soon. Yet, there was little they could do to stop it. Afterall, they would then be interfering with Claude''s duty. That also wouldn''t be taking into consideration all the things Claude had done for them. The boy allowed them to forsake their status as a wandering settlement and gave them the ability to defend themselves. In the past, everyone was reluctant to use their weapons to often as they lacked the knowledge required to repair them. Furthermore, each one had limited energy. Once that energy had drained completely, they would be like ordinary spears. However, Claude after learning the knowledge in the city taught the basics to the villagers. Though they couldn''t make new weapons or improve the existing ones, maintaining them and recharging them was no longer a problem. "It''s okay Claude. We all hope you can finish your mission as soon as possible." Tears welled in Agnes'' eyes "If you do, perhaps you could return here in the future?" Like Peter, Agnes had grown considerably closer to Claude over the years, almost treating the boy like her own flesh and blood. Betraying his truest thoughts, Claude could only smile wryly as he replied. "Of course I will. I might even bring back some gifts from my long journey?" However, Claude wasn''t able to hear a reply as shouting echoed from outside the shop. A wary look crossed everyone''s faces as they heard it. "What was that?" Karl said out loud as he narrowed his eyes. "I''m not too sure..." Claude replied to him and Agnes behind the counter shaking their heads. "I''ll go check that out." He continued. "You two can just wait here for me." Without awaiting a reply he rushed out of the shop, leaving a bewildered Agnes and Karl. They looked at each other for a moment in befuddlement, yet, understood Claude''s concerns. Both of them had already grown rather old, grey hairs were beginning to sprout on their scalps and wrinkles were carved onto the edges of their face. It wasn''t a surprise that Claude would be reluctant to let them endanger themselves. Nevertheless, it wasn''t like they would just sit back and let Claude do all the heavy lifting. "Come on Old Man." Agnes poked Karl. "Aren''t you embarrassed to just stay here as the Village Chief?" Karl rolled his eyes at her and sighed, muttering as he pushed himself off the counter, "It''s City Chief now," before making his way toward the door. Seeing him heading out of the door, a smile appeared on Agnes'' face as she hurried after him. [Attack] Claude darted through the streets, his eyes and ears absorbing every detail of the pandemonium around him. The usual clamour of the city had morphed into a cacophony of fear and confusion. People surged through the narrow alleys, fleeing from the direction of the city entrance with wide, terrified eyes. Breathless, Claude finally neared the main entrance. In the distance, he could make out the large gates he had faced when first approaching the city. However, these once formidable gates were still in disrepair. Like the rest of the outer areas of the city, they lacked the time and resources to rebuild it. Near the gates, members of the newly formed city guard stood with their backs to him, facing whatever threat had descended upon the city. Their uniforms, hastily assembled from mismatched pieces of armour and cloth, were stained with sweat and grime. "What are you doing here? You need to get to safety!" Peter''s familiar voice rang out, cutting through Claude''s reverie. Turning, Claude saw Peter grasping a spear in hand as he confronted a group of children who had been sneaking about nearby, their faces pale but determined. The sight of them¡ªtoo young to truly understand danger, yet old enough to feel the pull of bravery¡ªstruck a chord in Claude''s heart. If he acted like that, would Raymond still be here? ''Don''t be so foolish,'' Claude mused self-deprecatingly. ''If you did that, you wouldn''t be breathing Claude. And then, who would avenge you, avenge Raymond? Your ghost? Or perchance the wind carrying the whispers of your gruesome end?'' "But we want to help! We want to fight!" one of the children stammered, eyes wide with hope and fear, his defiance slightly wavering under Peter''s stern gaze. Claude watched as Peter''s face reddened with frustration. The sight of the naive children trying to prove their bravery seemed to infuriate him. Peter''s usually calm demeanour never cracked even when under pressure, yet his patience was wearing thin in the face of such innocence and recklessness. "Impressive courage," Claude remarked as he approached, drawing the wide-eyed attention of the children. "Emissary?! Do you agree?" the defiant child looked up at Claude, hope and fear mingling in his eyes. His small frame seemed to quiver in anticipation, and the others looked on, their expressions a mixture of admiration and trepidation. "No, I do not," Claude quipped. The children''s faces fell, disappointment etched into their features. "Bravery is not just about charging into battle. It''s not a game. Your time to fight will come, but now is not it." He crouched down to their level as he spoke. "Right now, your families need you safe. That is your duty today."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Claude''s reputation, bolstered by his supposed association with Solhart and his strength, lent his words a weight that Peter''s hadn''t. Reluctantly, the children obeyed, casting wistful glances back as they retreated with small, hesitant steps. "Thanks," Peter said, his smile wry. "Turns out children can be more difficult to handle than a bloody battle." His voice carried a mix of exasperation and relief, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Ha! You better hope Ida doesn''t turn out like that when she grows up, or you''ll be tearing your hair out from stress," Claude jested, though his expression soon turned serious. The weight of the situation was not lost on him, and he could see the same concern mirrored in Peter''s eyes. "Do you know what''s going on?" "Sadly." Peter''s face darkened. "It''s the bloodborne." He paused. "The Bloodborne are attacking." Claude''s eyes widened. Six years. It had been six years he had spent in this world, and never had he encountered the infamous Bloodborne. For a while, he had almost convinced himself that the world wasn''t as dangerous as the stories had led him to believe. But now, confronted with this reality, the memories of his struggles to conquer these ruins resurfaced. His battle against the ghosts. Against the Metal Titans. Each memory of his reminded him that he could not judge this world by the standards of his own. ''Then again¡­ It''s not like my world is ordinary either¡­'' Claude grimaced as he thought about how he was ripped away from his ordinary village life in his own world. Yet, the pattering of footsteps soon arrested his attention as he cocked his head to the side. "Karl? Agnes?" Claude asked, bewildered by who he was seeing. "You didn''t think we would miss out on this?" Karl, his face grim, now holding a spear similar to Peter''s as he stood by them. Due to his age, Karl had declined to get his hand on the newer weapons they had found and left them with the younger members of the guards. Nevertheless, Claude still didn''t understand why Peter clung to his spear and refused to use the rifles they had found. ''I guess that''s just Peter being Peter...'' He mused internally. Agnes stood beside him, clutching at a handful of vials, similarly tense. "Chief? Lady Agnes? There''s no need for you to be here!" Peter exclaimed, frustrated by the presence of the pair. As helpful as they would be, losing either of them would be a horrific loss for the village, as both acted as spiritual pillars for everyone there. "Don''t think about it, Peter... What''s come has come. We can''t exactly just chase them away now." Claude shook his head as his ears perked up at a distant sound. Boom! Hiss! The ground beneath Claude''s feet seemed to tremble with the thunderous sound. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes narrowed. He knew that sound all too well. How could he not? It was the unmistakable roar of steam rifles, the very ones he had painstakingly repaired and tested. The distinct hissing followed each explosion, a telltale sign of the steam mechanisms within the weapon at work. With his mind rapidly spinning, he began to manipulate his mental energy, tethering not the water vapour but all the molecules in the air before him. Gathering all his focus, he began to grasp two small discs of air. One large one and one small one. He used his power to rapidly vibrate the air at the centre of the discs, increasing their temperature. Once sufficient heat was directed to the centre of the discs, he aligned the discs before his right eye. This was the second spell from Raymond''s diary that Claude had mastered, known as the Air Telescope. Using principles similar but not exactly the same as the water spell, this auxiliary spell mainly functions to help look at distant objects. Boom! Hiss! The relentless barrage continued. With the help of his spell, Claude could see the city guards fire another volley; seeing this he understood the situation was dire. Bullets for the rifles were a precious commodity, difficult to manufacture and irreplaceable in their current state. Most of the bullets currently being used were actually found in the ruins. One bullet used meant one bullet fewer remaining. The fact that they were being used so liberally could only mean one thing: the situation was grave. As if on cue, the steamy aftermath of the guards'' gunfire began to reveal shadowy figures emerging from the smoke. The bloodborne. [Bloodborne] Using his spell Claude could see what was happening in great detail, perhaps too much detail. He could see the crimson flesh of the bloodborne, the saliva seeping out of their jagged jaws, their rough attire and the bloodthirsty excitement in their eyes. However, that wasn''t what caught his attention. The previous barrage from the city guards failed to fall any of the incoming foes, but it did riddle their forms with several holes. Yet, something that should be celebrated didn''t arouse anything other than shock for Claude. Blood seeped out of the wounds of the bloodborne for a mere moment before the blood drifted into their hands. Half of the blood flooded back towards their wound, entering their body, and healing the injury rapidly. The other half sitting in their hands soon began to morph. Similar to Claude''s own spells, the blood was swiftly given form. This time, the form of a weapon. Weapons of blood soon found themselves in the hand of the bloodborne, their wounds also rapidly closing in the meantime. Axes, hammers, swords and maces glimmered with a sanguineous glow in the hands of the Bloodborne. It wasn''t just Claude who noticed what was happening, the guards at the front also witnessed this. Their teeth clattered as they saw the bloodborne heal of their wounds and create crimson weapons from nothing. They had only ever seen such a thing from Claude, their emissary. And even then, he had only been shown to manipulate water, not something like blood. A rapid patter of footsteps interrupted their thoughts as everyone soon focused on a familiar figure charging towards Bloodborne. "Captain?!" The village guard collectively cried out in shock as they saw Peter charge at the Bloodborne. "Don''t stand there gawking!" Beside them, they heard the voice of their chief, Karl. "Throw those away for now... As useful as those weapons are, they can''t deal with the bloodborne. Just use the spears those who have it, like what we used to do!" Yet he wasn''t finished with his words. "Seems that only the spears can do enough damage to harm these things..." Gone were the fear and hesitation as the guards heard his words. They soon threw their rifles away and picked up their spears as they followed behind their Captain and Chief. Agnes stood at the rear as she used the medicine she brought with her, ready to treat the injured. At the heart of the brawl, Peter took advantage of his foe stumbling and swung his spear at him. Clang! The collision caused a sound similar to metal clashing to ring out, the weapon of blood wielded by the Bloodborne was much stronger than anyone had initially expected. Peter stumbled back feeling the aching in his wrist. Clicking his tongue, he shifted his wrist around slightly and threw himself back at his foe. He had thought that the rotating spearhead would be sufficient to mitigate the force of the blow, but he had proven wrong. Continuing fighting like that would be a death sentence.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Throwing himself back into the fray of battle, he continued to harass his crimson adversary with a flurry of thrusts, making sure this time to not directly match it in combat. Claude looked at the incoming battle, he recalled that Agnes and Karl had told him to stand aside for now. They didn''t want to completely rely on him to win this, they understood that the city guard still needed combat experience. And, this was a prime opportunity for that. Nevertheless, time soon passed as Claude watched everyone continuously battle. He noticed their fatigue, a situation eerily similar to his battle in the cathedral. Yet, unlike in the past he now had the power to prevent any deaths from his side. However, he couldn''t go using his typical way of casting his water orb spell. If he fired a single orb, the blunt damage it would induce would only be enough to injure one of the enemies. Using several smaller orbs would also prove useless as the wounds they would induce are similar to the bullets used by the guards. Therefore, they wouldn''t achieve any considerable damage. He needed to find a way to deal with all of the enemies at once without directly causing them to bleed, which would only serve to help them. Thankfully, for Claude, these years of studying hadn''t gone to waste. Using his mental power, Claude began to manipulate the mist around him. He focused intently, feeling the energy flow through his mind and into the surrounding air. The mist responded to his will, swirling and coalescing into a massive sphere of dense vapour. Hiss! A soft hiss escaped from the sphere as it gradually increased in temperature. The mist began to shimmer, the heat within it intensifying. Claude''s eyes narrowed in concentration. "Get back!" He shouted, making everyone disengage from their foes and retreat steadily. Woosh! With a swift motion, Claude directed the ball of scalding mist towards the group of enemies. The sphere shot forward with blinding speed, leaving a trail of steam in its wake. Boom! An explosion ensued as the sphere made contact with the bloodborne. The mist erupted, releasing a wave of scalding heat that enveloped the enemies. Their crimson skin began to glow as the intense heat seared their flesh. The weapons in their hands, forged from their blood, evaporated in the blistering heat. The bloodborne screamed in agony, their bodies writhing as the mist continued to burn them. The city guard, who had been watching in tense anticipation, relaxed and cheered as they saw the devastating effect of Claude''s attack. The threat that had loomed over their city was being destroyed before their eyes. "What was all that?!" Peter who now stood beside Claude, had his eyes wide with awe. He could hardly believe the power his friend had just displayed. "Just consider it a gift from the Gods." Claude waved his hand dismissively, though there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. Peter, however, took his words seriously, and his respect for Claude grew even more. "Oh? One survived?" Claude''s gaze shifted to a figure that was slowly rising from the pile of fallen bloodborne. This one had eyes reddened with rage, matching the colour of its skin. "Sorry about this." With those words, Claude created a plume of boiling steam. This time, he didn''t simply fire it at his foe. Instead, he forced the scalding steam into the bloodborne''s roaring maw. The creature''s eyes widened in horror as the steam seared through its respiratory system. It clawed frantically at its throat, trying to expel the burning vapour. Thud! With a resounding thud, the creature tumbled to the ground. The soft hissing of steam escaped its lifeless form, signalling the end of its suffering. ''Interesting... This one died much faster than the others, is it due to it already being injured? Or are these creatures'' internal organs more vulnerable than I initially thought...?'' "Peter! Claude!" A shout echoed from behind him. Turning his head, he saw Agnes and Karl jogging over, their faces a mix of relief and concern. "These weapons still weren''t enough?" Karl''s face was etched with frustration as he recalled the new weapons they had uncovered in the ruins. They had hoped these would be their salvation against the bloodborne, but they had proven ineffective. "I''ll try to think of a way to modify the weapons to better deal with the bloodborne." Seeing Karl''s anxiety, Claude offered a comforting smile. However, a sudden thought crossed his mind. ''Why do these weapons seem tailor-made to deal with humans¡­?'' He shook his head, trying to dispel the troubling notion. "Thank you." Karl scratched the back of his head, his expression softening. "Honestly, Claude¡­ We wouldn''t know what to do without you." A heavy silence hung in the air after he finished speaking. His words prompted all of them to remember what Claude had told them mere moments ago. That¡­ he would be leaving. [Departure] In what appeared to be a large dining hall, dozens of people congregated together beneath the glow of flickering candlelight. The long tables were laden with roasted meats, fresh bread, and steaming vegetable stews. The room hummed with life, a mixture of clinking cups, laughter, and the occasional burst of song. "Cheers!" With a celebratory toast, the guests raised their mugs, the frothy beer sloshing over the rims as they clinked their cups together. At the corner of the hall, Claude grimaced as he sipped his drink, the liquid burning his throat in a way that made him question why anyone found it enjoyable. His eyes swept across the room, observing the mingling crowd. It had been a week since the Bloodborne attack, and in that time, he had thrown himself into preparations for his impending departure. But tonight, his work was paused, replaced by the noise and warmth of this gathering. "Claude?!" A familiar voice snapped him from his thoughts, accompanied by a hearty pat on the shoulder. Turning, Claude was met with Peter¡¯s broad grin. Beside him stood Dorothy, Peter¡¯s wife¡ªa gentle woman with cascading brown hair and gentle emerald eyes. "Don¡¯t hide away here, look who I brought to meet you!" Peter announced with exaggerated excitement, his grin widening as he shifted what he held in his arms. Claude¡¯s gaze fell to the small figure in Peter¡¯s arms¡ªa child with raven-black hair and emerald-green eyes that sparkled like jewels. "Unkwel!" she cried out as Peter set her down. The child¡ªIda, Peter¡¯s two-year-old daughter¡ªwaddled toward Claude with unsteady but determined steps, her tiny hands reaching out to grasp the edge of his trousers. Claude blinked, caught off guard by the pure, unbridled joy radiating from the little girl. With a reluctant sigh, he bent down and scooped her into his arms. Ida¡¯s face lit up, and she burst into delighted giggles, her small hands patting his shoulders as if claiming him as her own. "When did she learn to walk?" Claude asked, his voice softening despite his usual indifference. "Only a few months ago," Peter replied, crossing his arms with a smirk. "She wanted to surprise you." "Despite not seeing you much, she still seems quite attached to you," Dorothy added, as she rested a hand on Peter¡¯s arm. Peter scoffed playfully. "Don¡¯t be jealous, dear. Ida just wanted to surprise her Uncle Claude," Dorothy teased, earning an exaggerated sigh from her husband. Claude held Ida awkwardly, but as her laughter bubbled up again, his expression softened. For a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed a little lighter. Soon, Dorothy returned to the centre of the hall with Ida, mingling with friends and family who had gathered for the celebration. "So," Peter said, breaking the companionable silence between them. "Tomorrow¡¯s the day, huh? You¡¯ll be leaving?" Claude nodded, his hazel eyes blurring. "You know," Peter stared at the chandeliers that littered the ceiling of the hall, "it almost feels like it was yesterday when I first met you at the entrance of the settlement." "The hope and joy shared amongst everyone when they learned of your identity."Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. He paused momentarily. "The sorrows of our expedition along with its achievements." His sombre tone soon faded. "And now look at us. I already have a daughter, and you''re about to set off on your journey¡­" "What I''m trying to say is, don''t forget us. Not me, Karl, Agnes, or the others. Try to visit us if you can in the future." He stared into Claude''s hazel eyes. "Most importantly¡­ Please stay safe." Claude said nothing for a moment, his gaze shifting around the room. He took in the laughter, the warmth, the flickering light of the candles¡ªall of it blending into a bittersweet memory he knew he would carry with him. "I¡¯ll try," he said finally, his voice barely a whisper yet steady. As the night wore on, the celebration continued in full swing. For the others, it was a night of joy and gratitude, but for Claude, it was a night of farewells. For the second time in his life, Claude would have to leave behind a familiar life to chase the unknown. This time, however, he was ready. ----- ---------- ---------------- The next morning, Claude stood at the entrance to the city, where the scars of battle still marred its once-proud walls. The aftermath of the Bloodborne conflict was etched into the cityscape¡ªhastily patched stone, and fractured buildings. The entire settlement had turned out to bid him farewell. The elderly stood leaning on family for support, their frail forms wrapped in layers against the cold. Mothers held their children close, their hands gripping tiny fingers. Faces were drawn with fatigue but lit by a quiet gratitude. An ocean of heads bobbed in the crowd, the murmur of whispered goodbyes drifting through the air. While there was joy in their survival and hope for the future, a melancholy undertone hung in the air. The man who had become their anchor was leaving, and though they understood why, it didn¡¯t make it any easier to let go. "Claude, we hope you don''t mind the scene." Karl stepped forward, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "Everyone is simply thankful for your help over the years." Claude shook his head, his gaze flicking over the sea of familiar faces. "It¡¯s fine," he said. "I wanted to leave you something before I go. A gift." The gathered townsfolk quieted down, eager to hear what he had to say. "I¡¯ve made some modifications to the steam rifles we recovered." Claude held up a small metal casing¡ªa prototype bullet. "These should make it easier for you to defend yourselves against the Bloodborne. I''ve left instructions in my residence, if you study it you should be able to recreate it." Upon hearing this, the crowd looked at each other in shock and hope. Could they truly deal with the Bloodborne by themselves, now? "After watching how the Bloodborne fought, I realized that the standard ammunition wouldn¡¯t be enough. These new bullets will burst upon impact, releasing a cloud of scalding steam. It should slow their regeneration and render their blood ineffective as a weapon." Karl, standing closest to Claude, looked at the bullet in awe. Relief washed over his face, but it was accompanied by a pang of guilt. He clenched his fists. "Claude¡­ this is incredible. But¡­ you¡¯ve already done so much for us. Are we asking too much of you?" Claude met Karl¡¯s gaze. "No. It¡¯s not about giving too much¡ªit¡¯s about ensuring that what we¡¯ve built here survives. You¡¯ve all worked hard to rebuild and protect this place. Now, you¡¯ll have what you need to keep it safe, even when I¡¯m gone." Karl nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He looked around at the others, who shared his expression of mingled gratitude and sorrow. After a pause, Claude¡¯s brow furrowed slightly, and he turned back to Karl. "But Karl, there¡¯s something that¡¯s been bothering me." "What is it?" Karl asked, his posture straightening. "The Bloodborne," Claude began, "don¡¯t strike me as particularly intelligent. Their behaviour almost animalistic. So why would they target the ruins so deliberately? What do they gain from it? They don''t seem to need fixed residences and they most certainly cannot make use of the knowledge found within ruins." Karl let out a long breath. "Honestly, it¡¯s as much a mystery to us as it is to you," he admitted. "But there are old stories¡ªones told by our forefathers." Claude tilted his head slightly. "They said the Bloodborne were puppets. Not acting on their own will, but controlled by something greater. A force whose purpose is still unclear." "A force?" Claude pressed. Karl nodded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The stories tell of an ancient entity¡ªalien to this land. Its purpose? Unknown. Its nature? A mystery. Its origin? Lost to time. All we know is that it was the catalyst for The Fall." He paused before continuing, " We call it... The Lord of The Undying Night." [Stronghold] "Lord of the Undying Night?" Claude muttered, trailing through the now familiar amethyst forest. His mind buzzed with questions. Who exactly is that? Was he a god? Did he have something to do with the strange situation of this world? During his years in the city, Claude hadn''t just holed up researching the various books he uncovered in the cathedral. He also managed to gain a clearer understanding of the history of this world. He learned how the world once actually had sunlight, which was lost on a day everyone simply called ''The Fall.'' The fall of what? It was a question he asked many times, a question to which he had tried finding answers, yet all had come for nought. No one seemed keen on answering his doubts. Nevertheless, his attention was soon diverted to the scene that lay before him. In the forest clearing ahead rested an ocean of red. The purple foliage that once shimmered under the soft scarlet rays of the moon above was now doused in an ungodly amount of blood. Within the gruesome scene, numerous heads of animals were strewn about, forming a spiral pattern. Years ago, Claude would have found himself nauseous when confronted with such a scene, yet his hectic life when he was thrown into this world had dulled his reactions. ''So this is it¡­'' he thought, recalling what he had been told by those who scouted the region following the attack: traces of Bloodborne activity were found in the east of the city. The sight before him, from his understanding, was some sort of ritual performed by the Bloodborne after hunting for prey. Agnes believed this was something they did to appease their god. Karl thought it had something to do with their inherent bloodlust, viewing it as their form of art. Peter, ever the combatant, believed this was a rite before the war. Whatever the reason, for Claude, this meant one thing: he could find a Bloodborne camp. It was something he had wanted to do for years. All his current understanding of this world revolved around what he had learned from Karl and the others. Now he wanted to sate his own curiosity. He wanted to learn more about this strange world before he left, especially considering he now had the power to defend himself. He wanted to learn about the true nature of this ''God.'' He wanted to learn how this world ended up like this. After surveying the scene and trying to remember what he had been told by the scouts, he trekked eastward. Trudging through the lavender expanse, he was brought to a halt by the megalith before him¡ªa city. The city was rather large; if it hadn''t been dwarfed by the ruined stronghold he had inhabited for the past few years, he might have been in awe. Ravaged by the passage of time and the onslaught of the elements, the city was similar to the ruins. However, the echoes that reverberated from the city seemed to be warning him of life present despite its tattered state. ''At least these aren''t ruins¡­'' Claude mused. From what he had been told, this was a former city of the Khorshid Empire under Ardeshir, known as Solaris. It was renowned for being home to the greatest shrine to Solhart, visited by many affluent folks in hopes of seeing a miracle. Climbing up a nearby tree, he used the Air Telescope spell to garner a closer look at the city, taking in a deep breath as he did so. Hundreds of scarlet giants swarmed the land, shouting, clashing, and spreading chaos throughout the city. Claude''s eyebrows creased. He seemed to have underestimated the number of Bloodborne present here. It now seemed likely what he had seen earlier was either a mere group of stragglers from afar or a small contingent from here. ''How exactly do I get in¡­?'' Normally, sneaking in wasn''t a bad idea, but Claude didn''t want to accidentally get caught up in the chaos of the Bloodborne''s unpredictable behaviour.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Nor did he trust the city''s structures to support him sneaking in from above, hopping between rooftops. However, he remembered what Karl once mentioned. ''They''re prone to infighting¡­?'' ----- ---------- ---------------- At the south gate of the city, a group of Bloodborne gathered around a corpse. This one was not of any animal; instead, it was a person. The scarlet-skinned giants prodded and toyed with the corpse, feeding their limited amusement. Whoosh! A projectile from seemingly nowhere shot toward them, piercing the abdomen of one. Blood seeped out of the wound, yet the face of the afflicted was momentarily that of bewilderment, confused about what was happening. Nevertheless, its simple mind made it give up pondering, and it soon took on an appearance of rage as it glanced at those around it. "Wah!?" Confused, angry howling soon sounded from each of them as they began to distance themselves from one another. Whoosh! The tense situation wasn''t helped by a second shot being fired at another one of them. "Raaaargh!" This wounded Bloodborne could no longer bother to make sense of the chaos. His scarlet eyes burned with fury as he tightly grasped his solid mace made of blood and smashed it against the nearest Bloodborne. The impact sent the unsuspecting giant crashing to the ground, its cries mingling with the enraged howls that erupted from all sides. Soom, the brawl escalated swiftly. Bloodborne warriors, each a towering figure of raw muscle and strength, turned on one another with savage brutality. Maces, claws, and fists struck out in every direction. Crimson blood spattered the already-stained ground, creating a grotesque painting where the ink was blood, and the brush was violence. One Bloodborne, a hulking beast with jagged scars crisscrossing its chest, swung a massive, blood-forged axe in wide arcs. The blade cleaved through the air, finding purchase in the flesh of another giant, who responded with a bone-crunching blow from its spiked club. Around them, others grappled and wrestled, their immense strength causing the very ground beneath them to tremble. The random firing of projectiles, which had initially sown confusion, continued to exacerbate the situation. Each shot, striking a different Bloodborne, incites further violence. The giants, already on edge, were driven into a frenzy by the mysterious attacks. Accusations flew, and alliances crumbled as each assumed betrayal by their comrades. One Bloodborne, larger than most and adorned with a crude, makeshift crown, roared commands in a guttural tongue, attempting to bring some semblance of order to the chaos. But his efforts were in vain. He was soon overwhelmed by a trio of frenzied giants who tore at him with their bare hands, reducing their would-be leader to a bloodied heap. The brawl expanded, drawing in more and more Bloodborne from the surrounding areas. The city, already a relic of a bygone era, groaned under the weight of the conflict. Ancient walls crumbled as giants were thrown against them, and the cobblestone streets cracked under the force of their battle. The once-great city of Solaris was now a war zone, its grandeur reduced to rubble and carnage. Amidst the chaos, a particularly fierce Bloodborne, distinguished by the intricate tattoos that covered its body, fought with brutal efficiency. It moved through the fray like a whirlwind, its twin swords flashing as they cut down foe after foe. But even this warrior could not escape the indiscriminate fury of the brawl. A thrown mace caught it off guard, crushing its ribcage and sending it sprawling to the ground. Time passed, though it seemed not with the eternal night covering the world. The moon hung high, casting its scarlet light over the battlefield, highlighting the devastation. Solaris, already aged and crumbling, was now in complete ruins after the fighting. Buildings lay in shattered heaps, and the streets were littered with the broken bodies of giants. "Raaaargh!" With a tired roar, a single Bloodborne emerged from a pile of corpses, panting in exhaustion. Its skin, once a vibrant scarlet, was now marred by countless wounds and streaked with the blood of its kin. Surprisingly, this was the individual who started the mess, being the one who was shot second by the unknown projectile. It stumbled forward, eyes glazed with fatigue and confusion, its victory cry a hollow echo in the silent aftermath of the battle. Yet its triumphant moment was fleeting. A strange mist began to form around it, swirling and thickening until it enveloped the giant completely. The Bloodborne''s eyes widened in panic as it realised what was happening. Its scarlet skin turned an even deeper shade of crimson as the mist boiled it alive. The giant''s roars of pain grew weaker and weaker until they ceased altogether. Soon, the mist dissipated, leaving behind nothing but an emaciated, lifeless corpse. Patter! Footsteps echoed in the destruction. Arriving before his latest victim, Claude raised a brow. "You actually survived for that long¡­?" He was genuinely impressed by the fighting spirit shown by the Bloodborne, yet it wasn''t like they could sit down and have a calm chat. Shaking his head, he remembered the one human corpse he had seen when he first initiated the cascade of violence. He cringed, thinking about the condition of the corpse; it probably wasn''t even in one piece after what had just happened. ''Here''s a moment of silence for you, from a stranger hailing from an even stranger world.'' Nevertheless, he remained confused by the presence of humans in the heart of a Bloodborne camp. Raising his head from his contemplations, he saw a massive building in the distance, untouched by the chaos that had ensued. "A temple¡­?" he muttered. [Temple] Step by step, Claude tread through the messy streets, approaching ever nearer to the massive building he had spotted earlier. His boots crunched through broken stone and dirt as his thoughts wandered, distracted by the building''s peculiar nature. Everything else around it had succumbed to chaos¡ªbuildings collapsed or crumbled to rubble, with the Bloodborne rampaging earlier. But this structure stood tall and unlbemished, untouched by the madness outside. A single thought echoed through his mind. ''Why¡­ Why is this building unaffected¡­?'' His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. No other place had been spared. It was as if an invisible force guarded this temple from the destruction wrought by the Bloodborne. ''Unless they were involuntarily avoiding it?'' Claude considered this possibility. If so, why? What made this place so special that even the Bloodborne wouldn''t dare to approach it? His gaze climbed the imposing fa?ade as he drew closer. The building loomed overhead, its sheer size only adding to his sense of unease. Was this connected to that supposed God of theirs? The temple''s exterior was unlike anything Claude had ever seen. Its stone seemed foreign, shimmering with a soft golden hue that caught even the dim light of the twilight above. It wasn''t marble or granite, but something else entirely¡ªsomething unknown. At the heart of the building, a massive spire rose skyward, an architectural marvel that pierced the heavens. At its peak, a gilded sun symbol shone brightly, seemingly defying the darkness that enveloped the world around it. The contrast was jarring¡ªthe temple appeared as a lone beacon of light in an otherwise shadowed land. As Claude approached the grand entrance, his curiosity deepened. He pushed the doors open cautiously, the creaking of the aged hinges filling the air with a low groan. Upon entering, Claude was greeted by an unexpected brightness. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Outside, the world languished under an eternal twilight, but here, inside this sacred place, the air felt almost vibrant, lively even. The stone walls seemed to capture and amplify the light from the torches lining the chamber, which burned with a steady, unnaturally bright flame. ''How are these torches still lit? I can''t imagine the Bloodborne maintaining these¡­'' Claude paced further in, studying his surroundings carefully. Unlike the ruined churches and cathedrals he had passed in his travels, this temple had no intricate stained glass windows and no colourful depictions of saints or gods. Instead, large, regular openings punctuated the stone walls, allowing what little natural light there was to seep inside. It was as though the temple had been built to accommodate a different kind of light¡ªa light that no longer existed. "I wonder how this would have looked with actual sunlight¡­?" Claude mused aloud, his voice reverberating softly against the stone walls.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. As he continued deeper into the temple, a metallic sound interrupted his thoughts. Clang! Clang! Claude''s eyes darted downward. The noise reverberated from below his feet, a harsh contrast to the serene quiet of the temple above. ''It''s coming from below¡­?'' he wondered, squinting as he tried to pinpoint the source. His gaze swept the chamber until it landed on a narrow corridor tucked away in the far corner, concealed by the little shadow present inside the temple. His footsteps echoed against the stone as he moved toward the hallway. He could feel the air grow heavier and colder, the closer he got. Eventually, he discovered a staircase¡ªa spiralling descent that led into the bowels of the temple. Descending the staircase, each step took him further away from the warm light of the torches above, the darkness below becoming thicker with every turn of the spiral. Yet, even here, the odd torches continued to line the walls, their flickering light guiding him downward. Clang! The sound grew louder, more urgent. Claude hastened his pace, gripping the cold stone wall to steady himself. Finally, at the bottom of the stairwell, he found the entrance to a room bathed in a harsh, almost blinding light. He shielded his eyes for a moment, letting them adjust before stepping forward. As his vision cleared, Claude''s breath caught in his throat. He stood amid a cavernous chamber, its vastness overwhelming. The room was bare, save for a single focal point¡ªa massive altar crafted from what appeared to be solid gold and images etched into the wall behind it. But it wasn''t the altar that froze Claude in place¡ªit was the people chained around it. Dozens of them, men, women, and children alike, were shackled to the floor by thick, rusted chains. Some lay motionless, unconscious, while others weakly stirred. A few conscious ones looked at him with hollow, pleading eyes, their faces gaunt from hunger and fear. Among them, a young boy no older than six blinked rapidly, his small body trembling as he tried to catch Claude''s attention. ''What¡­ What is this?'' Claude''s mind reeled. Was this some dark ritual? A sacrificial offering? Raymond had once spoken of practices like this¡ªwhere entire communities were offered up to appease vile gods. Yet, in his world these practises should be vestiges of a time long gone, but here... In this world and perhaps others, this may be much more commonplace than he had imagined. The young boy''s eyes met Claude''s, full of desperation and a silent cry for help. He wriggled against his chains, though he was too weak to speak. The sight stirred something deep within Claude. Claude stepped forward and raised his hand. Water swirled at his fingertips, forming several small discs that danced in the air. With a flick of his wrist, the discs darted forward, rotating rapidly as they sliced through the chains that bound the captives. Metal clanged to the floor as one by one, the shackles were severed. As they were freed, some of the conscious captives burst into tears, embracing one another in relief and disbelief. The young boy stumbled toward Claude, his lips quivering. "Th- Tha- Thanks for saving us, mister," the boy stammered, his voice thin and shaky. Claude knelt and ruffled the boy''s hair gently. "No need for that, kid. You''re safe now." The others, now realizing the chains had fallen away, rushed to Claude''s side, offering their gratitude through tears and trembling hands. They looked at him not with fear, but with awe, as if he were a figure from legend. "Ehrenlied," one of the older survivors murmured, his voice laced with reverence. Claude frowned slightly, unfamiliar with the term. Despite the inhabitants of this world using the same language as he did, they still retained some unique words in their dialect due to the older remnant tongues that were once spoken. Ehrenlied from what Claude could understand from his time with Karl and the others should mean¡­ Honoured One. The survivors continued to murmur among themselves, but Claude''s focus shifted. He couldn''t ignore the gnawing questions. "Why were you all left here?" Claude asked. "Chained up like that¡­?" An elderly man, his frail body leaning heavily on a fellow survivor, stepped forward. His skin was wrinkled, his frame gaunt. His eyes, however, held a glimmer of wisdom and clarity despite the torment. "I think I may have the answer," the man whispered, his voice cracking in the process. "Sacrifices. We should have been brought here as sacrifices..." [Evil God] As the elder''s words echoed through the room, Claude pinched his brows, withholding a sigh. He understood the implications of this revelation. For the Bloodborne to even conceive of such an act with their limited minds, they must have received instructions. He had faced these creatures before¡ªbrutal, mindless, violent. But for them to act with such purpose¡­ such intent? It could only mean one thing. These instructions most likely came from their so-called ''God.'' Yet even as this realisation settled in, it did not bring any comfort. In fact, it left an unsettling weight in Claude''s chest, a tightening feeling that he couldn''t shake. The Bloodborne following orders was one thing. What was truly unnerving was that if this God no longer existed and was unable to communicate with the Bloodborne, why would they perform this ritual? Unless this God... No, this entity... was still alive? The very thought lingered in the air like a poison, sinking deep into Claude''s mind. His breathing quickened, and he had to force himself to remain calm. There were too many unknowns. But the more Claude thought about it, the more the pieces seemed to fit together. "Do any of you know what the aim of this ritual was?" Claude queried, trying to better grasp the situation at hand. The elder rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His face was gaunt, shadowed by the dim light, and his eyes were weary. "I''m not certain, but I believe it may have something to do with Solhart." The name echoed in Claude''s mind. Solhart. A name spoken by those who still clung to the old beliefs, praying in the slight hope of salvation, in the hope they may be freed from this unending night. Despite Claude pretending to be His emissary, he knew little about this deity. Claude leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "Go on¡­?" "After The Fall, our prayers to Him went unanswered. Despite our hope, we came to understand that He might have fallen," he explained, his words that of a man who had once believed fervently but had been forced to accept the cold, harsh reality of the world. "But from tales of old, Gods don''t simply fall. Their consciousness may fade, but the amalgamation of our faith in Them doesn''t just vanish," he continued with downcast eyes. A spark of realisation lit up in Claude''s eyes. "Their God¡­ He''s trying to obtain Solhart''s power?" His words were met with a solemn silence, a tacit confirmation of his guess. It was a bitter truth they had all been circling around, afraid to admit it aloud. Claude''s mind raced as he tried to connect the dots, his thoughts flickering like a series of disjointed images. What he had learned today challenged everything he had previously believed. ''My previous guesses were wrong... The Fall may not have anything to do with humanity. It might instead be referring to the fall of these native Gods...'' His stomach churned at the thought. If this entity still lived, still sought power, the consequences could be far-reaching¡ªdevastating even. It wasn''t like he could fight it. There was little he could do to protect this world from something like that. A while after freeing everyone, Claude used his power to create some water to sate the parched mouths of the others. Sitting in the main hall of the temple, Claude turned to the old man whom he now knew as Gerard. "You guys shouldn''t be too far from here. Are you able to return home?" Gerard sighed, his exhalation raspy and hoarse. "Ehrenlied, I don''t think we can¡­"This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. He went on to explain his and everyone else''s circumstances, his voice laced with regret. They used to inhabit a settlement not too far from here. Despite the growing numbers of Bloodborne nearby, they had refused to leave completely, unwilling to forsake the temple of their God. How that turned out was rather obvious to Claude now. As he had guessed, Gerard went on to say that several days ago, their settlement had been raided¡ªno, massacred. Most of the villagers had been brutally slain, with the ones before Claude being brought as captives. "What about joining a nearby settlement?" Claude suggested, his voice more gentle now. "For the past few years, I lived with a group of people in a nearby set of Ruins." "Ruins...? Their village head wouldn''t be called Karl, would he?" Gerard asked, his eyes widening in recognition. There was a glimmer of something in his expression¡ªhope, perhaps. "How did you know? Do you know him?" Claude replied, intrigued. His heart lifted slightly at the possibility of reconnecting these people with someone they knew, someone who could help. "That madman succeeded?!" Gerard exclaimed, ignoring Claude''s question as he fell into confusion. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a look of disbelief etched onto his features. "Sorry, sorry. Of course, I know Karl. He always wanted to find a permanent settlement for his people. Former human cities are usually overrun by the Bloodborne or destroyed, so he turned to the ruins." Claude listened intently as Gerard recounted the story of Karl, a man driven by a singular goal despite the odds stacked against him. There was admiration in Gerard''s voice, mingled with regret. "I always thought he was insane for that. Ruins had always been synonymous with danger. When I heard the news that a majority of the search party from that village, including Karl''s father, had gone missing in search of some ruins, I held no hope for Karl''s ambitions." Gerard lowered his gaze, his expression turning sombre. "Yet... He succeeded," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "And I..." The others, seeing this, quickly rushed up, their voices overlapping in a rush of reassurance. "Stop blaming yourself. Sure, you were against the idea of moving from here, but weren''t we all? The blame lies with most of us, not just one person..." Gerard weakly smiled, but it was clear that the weight of his decisions still haunted him. Claude watched the scene unfold, a knot forming in his chest. It was always the same¡ªnormal people forced into impossible situations, burdened by choices they never should have had to make. Just like him... "Ehrenlied, are you sure they would accept us?" Gerard asked hesitantly, his voice thick with uncertainty. "Wouldn''t we just burden them?" Claude met his gaze. "Just tell them what happened and say that Claude sent you there." "Claude...?" Gerard repeated, surprised by the name. The others exchanged glances, their expressions puzzled. "It''s my name. You could call me that instead of Ehrenlied if you want to." "No, no. That is too disrespectful, especially after all you have done for us." The old man furiously shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. After making sure everyone was fine, Claude returned downstairs to the underground chamber. His mind was still swirling with the revelations of the day, but there was something else pulling at him now. He vaguely remembered there being some strange markings on the walls and wanted to investigate more. Something told him that the answers he sought could be found there. Within the room once again, he glanced around at the walls that shone with a golden hue, not dissimilar to the main body of the temple. Approaching the wall behind the altar, his pupils contracted as he saw what was on the walls. Images. Images were engraved onto the stone walls with an unknown technique that stood out in the otherwise bare room. They were intricate and detailed, the craftsmanship so precise that it almost seemed as if the figures were alive, frozen in time. Tracing the carvings with his finger, Claude ruminated over what he was seeing. ''It seems to be depicting a war...?'' He mused, his brow furrowing in concentration. The image was split into two halves. On the left-hand side, a shining golden figure, adorning what seemed to be a crown and grasping a longsword, stood at the helm of a massive human army. The figure exuded a radiant light surrounding it as if it were more than just a King or something similar¡ªperhaps a God. On the right-hand side, a shadowy entity stood above a large horde of crimson figures. The darkness surrounding it was palpable, almost as if it were seeping from the stone itself. It seemed to lack any true form, with large wing-like appendages sprawling out from its back. Nevertheless, what truly caught Claude''s attention were its eyes. Crimson. Indifferent. Callous. Just from the eyes alone, he could already somewhat grasp what the people creating this thought of the entity. Evil. Furthermore, Claude could guess what this entire thing was trying to convey. A war. A war between man and monster. A war between Gods. His breathing hitched as he studied the words carved at the bottom of the scene, their meaning sinking into him like cold steel. ''Zethrax. One of the Four. Herald of Shadows. Harbinger of Doom. The one who foretells an unending night. May his accursed name be eternally reviled, yet never erased from memory. Praise be to the Light, for He will vanquish this scourge.'' [Phantom] Tap. Tap. Tap. The reverberation of Claude''s footsteps echoed in the stillness, each step a lonely sound swallowed by the vast emptiness surrounding him. Draped in a yellow-brown cloak, he trudged through the wasteland¡ªa barren, desolate expanse that stretched out endlessly before him. "How much longer...?" Claude murmured, halting briefly. His eyes scanned the horizon, but all he could see was a landscape devoid of life, an endless stretch of parched cracked earth. It felt as if the world itself had given up, surrendering to the weight of its own despair. The ground beneath him resembled a fractured mirror, its jagged surface reflecting the bleakness above. Even the moon, pale and distant, offered no solace¡ªits faint light struggled to penetrate the thick veil of clouds that choked the heavens. Occasionally, a gust of wind stirred the dust and ash that coated everything in sight, creating a choking haze that clung to Claude''s skin and clothes. The once-fertile soil had long since turned to a lifeless grey, and any sign of greenery had long since withered away. The horizon was marked by the silhouettes of dead trees¡ªskeletal remains that reached out with bony fingers, creaking as the wind passed through them. Scattered throughout this forsaken landscape were the remnants of a civilization lost to time. All that remained, were crumbling ruins of buildings, half-buried under layers of dust and rubble. This wasteland had become Claude''s reality for months. Since leaving the temple where he had rescued Gerard and the others, he had wandered this barren world, hoping to uncover something¡ªanything¡ªthat might make sense of it all. Initially, he believed the world to be one of endless forests and towering mountains. But as he ventured deeper into what had once been human territory, the scenery shifted into this lifeless desolation. Yet, despite the emptiness, his journey hadn''t been entirely in vain. Claude had discovered several ruins along his travels. Though none compared to the first one he had found, they were scattered throughout the land like forgotten relics of a bygone era. These places were quiet, hollow¡ªgrand structures, now little more than empty shells. There were no traps, no hidden treasures, and no secrets waiting to be unlocked. Just silence. And as he explored them, something struck him as odd¡ªthe architecture didn''t belong there. Their designs were alien, as though they had been plucked from some far-off realm and dropped into this forsaken world. But despite this, they offered him nothing. No answers. No power. Only more questions. Where did these ruins come from? How did they get here? Why are they here? It wasn''t just ruins that Claude encountered on his journey. He passed through cities as well¡ªonce-thriving cities now reduced to rubble, much like the rest of the world. Unlike the ancient ruins, these cities bore fresh scars of conflict. Gaping holes marred the walls, streets were littered with debris, and blackened scorch marks hinted at fires that had raged through the streets. Whatever had happened here had been swift and violent, leaving destruction in its wake. Yet, within these cities, Claude found something invaluable¡ªinformation. Scraps of literature, ancient tomes, and faded parchments told the story of a world that had once flourished, only to be brought to its knees by some cataclysmic event. The more Claude pieced together, the clearer the picture became.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. One city, in particular, kept appearing in the fragments of history he uncovered. Edessa. The ancient capital of the Khorshid Empire¡ªnow little more than a legend whispered by those few who still remembered. Through the ruins of Khorshid''s cities, Claude had uncovered a disturbing truth. Edessa had been the epicentre of the fall. It was there, within the heart of the city, that a terrible event had unfolded. Something had been summoned within its walls. This summoning had not been an accident. It had been orchestrated by an unknown organisation¡ªone that had thrived in the chaos that followed. The Shadowfiends. Karl had mentioned them once, long ago, with nothing but scorn in his voice. They were the architects of this world''s suffering, traitors who had orchestrated its downfall. And yet, despite all the destruction they had caused, they remained a mystery. Where were they now? Surely they hadn''t simply vanished after everything they had done? It didn''t make sense. Now, Claude''s journey had become a race to Edessa. The city hopefully held the answers he sought. No. It had to. Step after step, he pressed forward, the barren landscape offering no respite, only a growing sense of unease. Fatigue gnawed at him, slowing his steps and blurring the edges of his thoughts. Yet, amidst his exhaustion, he heard it. ¡°Claude.¡± The voice was soft, yet it struck him like a thunderclap. He froze mid-step, his heart skipping as the name hung in the air. ¡°Raymond.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question, nor a plea¡ªjust a name, spoken flatly. He turned slowly, eyes narrowing as he saw a figure standing in the distance. Thin, and aged, his frame was exactly as Claude remembered. ¡°You¡¯ve come so far,¡± the apparition said, stepping closer. ¡°No,¡± Claude murmured, his tone low. ¡°You¡¯re not real.¡± The hallucination tilted its head, the faint smile tugging at its lips. ¡°Why so cold? Don¡¯t you miss me? I thought you¡¯d be glad to see me.¡± Claude didn¡¯t flinch. His exhaustion gave the illusion power, but his conviction fortified his own. ¡°You¡¯re just my mind playing tricks on me. You¡¯re not him.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± The spectre¡¯s smile widened, a flicker of malice replacing the warmth. ¡°And who am I, then?¡± ¡°You¡¯re the part of me that doubts,¡± Claude replied, his voice sharper now. ¡°The part that wants to drag me down, to make me feel like I failed. But I didn¡¯t fail you.¡± The spectre¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Didn¡¯t you?¡± it hissed, stepping closer. ¡°You left me to die. You let me face that beast alone.¡± ¡°You know full well what happened." Claude¡¯s jaw tightened, his fists curling. "Stop trying to twist it into something else.¡± ¡°Twist it?¡± The hallucination echoed mockingly. ¡°You say that, yet... did I lie?¡± ¡°I know what this is,¡± Claude said. ¡°You¡¯re not here to haunt me¡ªyou¡¯re here because I¡¯m tired. My mind¡¯s unravelling because I¡¯ve been pushing too hard. But I won¡¯t let you break me.¡± The hallucination faltered, its form flickering slightly. ¡°You can tell yourself that all you want. But the truth doesn¡¯t change. You left me to die.¡± Claude exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold air. ¡°I¡¯ve carried that guilt for years. It was the first thing I thought about when I woke up, and the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes. But not anymore.¡± He was no longer a child. No longer could he succumb to the shadows of his past, those memories that had once twisted his every thought. The fear, the guilt, the crippling uncertainty¡ªthese were the ghosts of a younger version of himself, the boy who had been lost and vulnerable. He had outgrown that terrified child and had learned to see the world not as a place of endless peril, but as one that required strength and clarity. The figure hesitated. ¡°You can¡¯t outrun it, Claude. It¡¯ll catch up to you eventually. You¡¯ll never be free of me.¡± Claude met its gaze. ¡°Maybe not. But I don¡¯t have to listen to you anymore.¡± The hallucination seemed to snarl, its shape distorting, before vanishing with a faint shimmer, leaving only the wasteland¡¯s silence behind. "I''m still..." Claude''s voice trailed off, and a bitter, rueful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "So weak." ----- ---------- ---------------- Days melded together, his mind pushing through the relentless exhaustion, staying sharp despite the weariness that tugged at him. He kept walking. And walking. And... walking. But then, one day, as he crested a hill, something made him stop in his tracks. He froze. "There¡­" he whispered, breath catching in his throat. In the distance, something loomed over the wasteland, like a corpse clawing its way from the earth''s grip¡ªEdessa. Or what little remained of it From this distance, Claude could make out the city''s once-massive walls, now crumbled and broken as if some colossal force had torn through them. In the heart of the city, where once a grand palace or temple might have stood, there was now only devastation. A massive crater marred the earth, its edges jagged and sharp as if the ground had been violently ripped apart. At the centre of the crater, a pulsating scarlet rift sat there throbbing. The air around it distorted as the very fabric of reality wrung in its presence. The sight made Claude''s skin crawl, as a deep, visceral sense of wrongness settled in his bones. "This¡­ this is Edessa?" His voice was barely a whisper, yet it got drowned out by the low hum of the rift. [Whispers] Carefully descending the steep walls of the massive crater, Claude made sure to keep his footing steady, wary of slipping. He approached the centre cautiously, maintaining a safe distance from the ominous apparition sitting before him. Claude stood in wonder and open curiosity as he motionlessly gazed at the pulsating red ''thing'' before him. It hung in the air glowing with an eerie light, casting strange shadows in the gaping crater where it sat. What was it? What is it doing here? From what he could see, it seemed connected to what had destroyed the ancient city. "Lost lamb..." The hairs on Claude''s body spiked as he heard a hushed whisper float into his ears, sending a chill down his spine. "Come... Seek what it is you desire..." His eyes focused intently on the anomaly in front of him. ''It''s coming from ''that''...?'' He tried to step back, but a haunting realization hit him: he couldn''t move. "Is it... Power? ...Knowledge? Perhaps... Hope?" Tap! Tap! Tap! Lacking the ability to resist, Claude could only watch in horror as his body moved closer to the source of the whispers, his feet betraying him with every step. Step by step. Inch by inch. Soon he stood before the anomaly, its crimson hue casting an eerie glow on his young face. Whoosh! Before he could register what was happening, the world around him began to spin, a dizzying blur of colours and sounds. The last thing registering in his head was a flash of gold and more faint, unintelligible whispers. "Yes... Come... Come bathe in His shadow... Seek thine eternal rest..." ----- ---------- ---------------- Claude''s eyes fluttered open as he clutched his head and groaned, assailed by a throbbing headache, confusion swirling within him. He sat up slowly, his mind struggling to piece together the fragmented memories of what had just happened. He glanced around at his surroundings. His vision was blurred by his throbbing temples. The room was rather bare, its austerity only adding to his disorientation. The stone walls were cold and damp, seemingly carved from bedrock itself, their rough texture dotted with patches of dark moss and creeping lichen. The ceiling was low, adding to the room''s claustrophobic atmosphere, with heavy wooden beams supporting the weight of the space. In the faint light cast by a flickering torch mounted on the wall, he could make out strange inscriptions marked the walls, yet Claude''s blurred vision hindered him from understanding them. The only break in the relentless stone was the heavy, reinforced oak door, bound with iron bands and fitted with a small, barred viewing window. The hinges and lock were massive, designed more to keep something in than to allow for an easy exit. Clenching his teeth, Claude held back his frustration and slowly stood up, clutching at the wall beside him for support. As the pain in his head slowly subsided, he managed to focus on the writing on the wall. Symbolum Nox Offertor: From the primordial vastness, where light dares not tread, he has emerged. He is the shadow that shapes worlds, the darkness that cradles the stars. In the silent recesses of the night, where secrets whisper and shadows conspire, he reigns supreme. Do not fear the dark, for it is within its embrace that the soul finds its true form. The light blinds, but the dark reveals. Embrace the shadows, and we shall see with new eyes, hear with new ears, and understand with a wisdom that transcends mortal comprehension. He is the weaver of shadows, the harbinger of truths untold. In our darkest dreams, he waits, whispering, watching. To seek the infinite under his guidance is to risk losing the finite, and in embracing the eternal, we may forsake the moment. This is the nature of the cosmos he embodies: vast and indifferent, beautiful and terrible.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Despite not knowing the language used to inscribe these words, their meanings floated into Claude''s mind with an unsettling clarity. ''Is this referring to the Bloodborne''s God...? Am I in their camp now? But... How?'' Claude began to realize he might be in a completely different world right now. Nevertheless, he felt more unsettled by his latter question. How did he get here? If he got to the previous world due to that strange thing in his mental space, which is also somehow tied to the subspace, is this also due to the subspace? The worst-case scenario would be that he was in the subspace itself. "Come on, Claude! Stop dilly-dallying!" he muttered to himself, slapping his cheeks lightly. Claude tried to touch the red thing that had brought him here, yet his hand just passed through it, as if it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. "Fantastic..." Shaking his head he walked towards the locked door on the other side of the room. "Looks like I can''t return there any time soon." Pondering for a moment, he came to the realisation that performing his spell might be more taxing than normal. Unlike before where there had been sufficient water vapour in the air due to the inherent nature of that world; now he would have to expend more mental energy to create a similar spell. And, despite now having the mental energy to cast 15 Tier 0 spells, he didn''t want to waste any of it in such an unfamiliar environment. He bit back a sigh, trying his best to remain calm. ''Think, Claude! Think! What can you do to get out of here...'' Glancing around the room, his eyes glinted as they locked onto the patches of moss that dotted the walls of the room. His eyes flicked between the moss and the iron rods barring the door, ''Can I...?'' With a thought, his mental energy surged into action. It soon began to tether and draw out the moisture out of the moss. Little by little, the water began to coalesce into a large hand. Claude then drove the hand towards the door and had it grasp the large iron rods that bound the door. Claude closed his eyes, trying his best to remember what he had learned over these past few years. ''Heat,'' His mind dug through the knowledge he had obtained from the Sacra Machina archive. ''It¡¯s the transfer of energy between different systems. This energy... it mostly shows itself as... ah, yes¡ªkinetic energy! The movement of tiny particles is far too small for us to see. They jiggle and bounce about, and the faster they move, the hotter a thing feels.'' With a mere thought, Claude channelled his mental energy, urging the molecules within his conjured palm of water to vibrate with fervour. The invisible dance quickened, their kinetic energy increasing, until wisps of steam began to curl upward, drifting lazily from the hand. The iron bar resting within his grasp shifted hues, first dull orange, then a fierce, glowing red, as if it had been pulled straight from a blacksmith¡¯s forge. Satisfied, Claude exhaled, his focus shifting. His mind willed the chaotic motion of the particles to slow. The molecules, so recently alive with frantic energy, now obeyed his command, growing sluggish. Slowly, shimmering crystals began to form, spreading outward. The hand of water solidified, ice creeping over its surface until it glittered like a frozen sculpture. After repeating the process several times, the iron bars soon began to falter. And, with a final freeze. Crack! With a crack the bars broke apart, falling to the ground, shattering in the process. Placing his hands on the door, Claude heaved it open and began ascending the flight of stairs leading up, each step echoing in the eerie silence. As he neared the end of the staircase, he heard the thumping of footsteps, hammering away at the floor above. The noise was heavy, deliberate, and most definitely not human. His doubts were confirmed when he glimpsed two crimson giants standing at the exit. "Why Grokk no can fight bugs?" grumbled the smaller one, his voice a rumble of frustration, echoing off the damp stone walls. "Stoopid, Grokk." The larger giant responded with a slow shake of his head, his tone laced with a condescending growl. He leaned lazily against the entrance, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes half-closed with a semblance of smugness. "Master says wait. Throgg smart. I listen." Grokk''s brow furrowed deeper, his thick fingers scratching at his head in frustration. His gaze darted toward the descending flight of stairs, catching Claude off guard and causing him to hug the sides of the walls and try and blend into the shadows. "But¡­ shiny red thing take us there? Why we no go?" Grokk hesitantly asked. Throgg let out a low grunt, clearly irritated. "Fool!" He spat. "Shiny thing no work now. Scary gold man break it." He bared his yellowed teeth in a sneer as he remembered the golden figure, his deep-set eyes narrowing. "Gold man smash it good. No more shine." For a moment, Grokk''s face sagged with disappointment, his slumped shoulders and drooping hands making him look almost childlike despite his monstrous size. "Throgg right¡­" he muttered, resigned to the situation. Throgg, satisfied with Grokk''s obedience, nodded sagely. "Master come soon. Then we smash bugs," he said with a slow, deliberate grin, revealing the sharp edges of his tusks. The thought of violence brought a glint to his eyes, a hungry anticipation that made his muscles twitch. "Grokk like smash," Grokk echoed with a gleam in his eye, a slow smile creeping across his brutish face. "Grokk good at smash." Throgg rumbled out something that might have been a laugh, though it was more akin to the distant growl of thunder. "Yes, Grokk is good at smash. But no smash yet. Master says wait." As the conversation faded, Claude emerged from the shadowy depths of the staircase, eyes wide with shock. He felt like his worldview had just been viciously assaulted and then flipped over. ''They speak...?'' Claude had been scouring the world for the past few years and had found too many Bloodborne camps to count. Yet, he had never seen them speak. More often than not, they just growled and barked at each other, not unlike animals. ''They speak¡­?'' Claude thought, his mind racing. The giants'' speech was crude and halting, but the fact that they could form coherent sentences was alarming enough. Yet, the contents of their conversation troubled him even more. ''They want to travel through the thing that brought me here¡­ but can''t?'' Claude''s gaze flicked to the malefic red ''thing'' sitting in the room behind him, the same thing that had transported him. ''And these "bugs" they talk about¡­ are they referring to humans like me? And, why can''t they travel through it anymore?'' [Labyrinth] Claude''s thoughts spun in a storm of confusion, but one glaring problem cleaved through them like a sharp blade. If the world he had known for so many years was about to be overrun by manic, bloodthirsty beasts... What was he supposed to do? Help them? Claude had no illusions about his strength. Over the years, his growth in mental energy had made him powerful, but against an invasion of red beasts, he was like a pebble cast into the sea. He had seen the hordes of Bloodborne once before, and the sheer number was hard to comprehend. An invasion would mean countless more. There was no stopping it¡ªnot by himself. But if he couldn''t directly fight off the invasion, perhaps he could prevent it from happening in the first place. ''If I can''t stop this plan from happening¡­ I don''t think I''ll ever be able to return,'' he sighed. He cared deeply for the people he had come to know, for those lives entrenched in that desolate landscape they call home. But as much as he wanted to protect them, there was something else. He had to return home. He had to avenge Raymond. He couldn''t simply throw away his life here. "Enough is enough," Claude muttered, shaking his head as if to dispel the swirling confusion. He straightened his back, his thin frame casting a long shadow on the stone floor. Slowly, cautiously, he ascended the stairs. It stretched before him like something out of a fever dream, its length impossible to gauge. Deep azure carpets covered the floor, so dark they might as well have been black. Odd, unsettling paintings lined the cold stone walls, their twisted forms barely recognizable in the dim light. Their frames were tarnished and warped by time. Some depicted people¡ªordinary at first glance¡ªbut their eyes held a haunting emptiness, and their skin... a familiar crimson hue. Others showcased shadows as dark as ink, their amorphous forms seemingly spilling beyond the confines of the canvas, seeping into the dim light like oil on water. But the most unsettling were the inhuman monstrosities. Their grotesque shapes twisting and writhing as if alive. One creature appeared to be a tangle of limbs, an amalgamation of hands and legs. Another was a writhing mass of eyes, each one gazing in a different direction, their expressions of panic, rage and indifference almost too vivid. In one corner, a beast with a skeletal frame stood poised, its grin unnaturally wide, its teeth jagged and smeared with what looked disturbingly like fresh blood. ''What...'' Claude stared at these pieces of art hung around him, ''are these...?'' Yet, he was not given time to ponder these details, the silhouettes of the Bloodborne he had kept his eyes on had faded into the distance, leaving him alone in this suffocating expanse.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. As he took in the rest of his surroundings, his thoughts unconsciously wandered to stories of old, tales of monstrous labyrinths filled with unspeakable horrors. His lips curled into a nervous smirk. ''A big, scary half-human monster waiting around the corner? Oh, how''d I wish that''d be the case...'' But the smirk faded quickly as he realised he would be blessed if the only thing he had to confront was a single monster in this foreign realm. Tap! Tap! His footsteps echoed in the oppressive silence, the sound almost mocking him. It was the only thing breaking the suffocating quiet, and yet it made him feel more isolated than ever. The hallway stretched endlessly ahead. Each step felt like it brought him no closer to any destination. ''Is this ever going to end?'' he wondered, his pulse quickening. ''Where am I even going?'' He didn''t feel in control anymore. His mind kept telling him to turn back, to find another way, but he didn''t feel like wasting all his previous progress in walking. And then it came. A scream. The sound was so abrupt, so piercing, that Claude nearly stumbled. His body tensed as adrenaline flooded his veins, every muscle poised to bolt in the opposite direction. The scream was raw, a twisted mixture of fear, pain, and something else he couldn''t quite place. He froze, his breath caught in his throat. The scream echoed again, louder this time. It was coming from somewhere ahead¡ªa room, perhaps, just beyond his line of sight. He moved forward, his body practically acting on instinct. Each step felt heavier than the last as the nauseating stench of blood filled his nostrils. The scent was thick and oppressive, mingling with the stale air of the hallway. His stomach churned, but he pushed forward. Finally, after what had felt like hours passed by, Claude reached the source of the scream. He stood before a door, its massive wooden frame old and splintered. The screams had stopped now, replaced by a chilling silence that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. Swallowing his hesitation, he stepped closer, peeking through the narrow crack in the door. The room beyond was enormous, far larger than any room should be. It wasn''t a room at all but a cavernous expanse, the size of a sprawling plain, its stone floor slick and dark with old blood. At the centre of the room sat a seething pool of crimson liquid, writhing as though it possessed some life of its own. Countless Bloodborne surrounded the pool, their grotesque forms standing guard. But it wasn''t just the Bloodborne that filled the room¡ªthere were humans too. Ordinary people lined up in a queue that stretched back into the shadows. ''People¡­ What could they be doing here?'' Claude''s mind raced. He had thought he was deep in enemy territory, but the presence of people suggested otherwise. Perhaps he hadn''t been taken to another world after all. Perhaps this was just a remote part of his own. The tension in the room was palpable. A man at the front of the line, dressed in the coarse leather garb of a peasant, stepped forward reluctantly. His face was pale, and his body trembled with each step. His legs seemed barely able to support his weight, each movement coming with a shuddering breath. One of the Bloodborne, standing tall and menacing, gave the man a sharp shove. "Insect. Go. Pool." The man stumbled, almost falling before he caught himself. His face twisted in a mix of horror and despair as he was forced closer to the bubbling pool. His movements were agonizingly slow, as though each step was a monumental effort. "No!" he cried, his voice breaking with desperation. "You promised us power if we served you! This isn''t what we were promised! Please, no!" His pleas fell on deaf ears as the Bloodborne''s patience wore thin. With a sudden, forceful push, the man was hurled into the pool. The screams that followed were haunting, the same inhuman wails that Claude had heard from the hallway. The man''s body convulsed, his voice breaking apart into tortured gasps before fading altogether. Soon, the pool of blood stilled, its surface eerily calm. Just as Claude turned to leave, a hand broke through the surface of the blood. It was a deep, unnatural crimson¡ªalmost as if it were forged from the blood itself. And then, slowly, it began to rise. Claude''s heart pounded as he stared at the emerging figure, his body frozen in place. [Ambush] Claude''s hazel pupils contracted as he realised he was about to face something that would overturn everything he thought he knew about this world. Soon after the hand emerged, the rest followed. A hideous face, broad frame, towering height, and most importantly of all scarlet red skin. A Bloodborne. Thoughts churned in Claude''s mind and answers soon started appearing. ''That''s it! No wonder they didn''t seem to engage in any sort of reproduction every time I found them, and their numbers seemed to constantly dwindle.'' ''If this is the only way Bloodborne are created and the portal is supposed to be ''closed'', then everything could be explained.'' However, another question surfaced, who were these people? ''Are these people linked with the Shadowfiend Cult...?'' Yet, Claude''s attention was then diverted as the new Bloodborne slammed his fists into his chest, shouting in joy before climbing up a pair of stairs that had previously remained hidden from his eyes. Whoosh! With little to no hesitation, Claude vanished from his spot as he inched away from the room. Once he had moved a sufficient distance away, he collapsed onto the wall, his eyes clouded. His brain felt like it was being overloaded by the vast amount of information that had been forcefully shoved into his skull. Running a hand through his hair, Claude''s eyes soon regained their focus as he tried to ponder his next plan of action. ''I can''t just keep wandering. For all I know, this hallway might not actually end. Damn it! Could this actually be a labyrinth? That staircase might be the only way out.'' Claude contemplated. ''But, I''ll just play it safe for now and keep looking for another exit...'' He promptly got up and walked briskly down the hallway, his footsteps urgent. But no matter how far he walked, the hallway seemed endless. Tap! Tap! Tap! His boots echoed in the silence, but something was wrong. And then he saw it¡ªa door just ahead, splintered wood, cracked slightly open. He froze, his breath hitching. It was the same door. Claude''s stomach twisted. He had walked down the hallway for what felt like ages, yet somehow, he was back where he started. His heart raced as confusion turned into dread. ''Is this some kind of trap?'' he wondered, his pulse quickening. But even then...how? How did he arrive at this same door. He hadn''t doubled back. Yet here he was again. Taking a deep breath, Claude decided to test the situation. He walked away again, his pace quicker this time, eyes scanning the corridor for any signs of a way out. Nevertheless, after what seemed like an eternity of walking, there it was again¡ªthe same door. No matter how far he tried to go, it was always waiting for him. His head swam, disbelief turning into frustration. "This can''t be real," he muttered, shaking his head. But the scene before him begged to differ. Claude could only stand there for a moment in silence. ''This hallway... it''s forcing me here'' With a sigh of exasperation, Claude stepped closer once again. His fingers trembled as he pushed the door open wider, just enough to get a better look inside. The sickening stench of blood filled his nostrils once more, and his eyes settled on the pool. As he watched on, a single question floated to his mind. What was he meant to do now...?Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Was he meant to aimlessly keep wandering in such an alien place? Or fight his way through to that flight of stairs...? ''But then again¡­ how?'' It''s not like those dozen Bloodborne guards, and those people were simply figments of his imagination. ''Think Claude! Think!'' Clutching at his hair, Claude tried to draw upon the bank of knowledge he possessed for a solution. Especially his understanding of the Bloodborne. After all, throughout his years of travelling, he did create quite a few hills of Bloodborne corpses. Deciding to not waste these spoils, he thought it would be better to try and understand their physiology. This might even allow him to understand what the source of their power was. ''Hyperactive liver, fostering rapid metabolism for muscle growth and healing. High amounts of adrenaline are in circulation at all times. Muscle and bone density approximately four times that of a normal person.'' Bits of information flicked across his mind as he kept searching. ''Pupils seem to lack standard human acuity, poor kinetic vision. Intelligence seemed to be reminiscent of a human seven-year-old, though that might not apply here¡­'' ''Unknown organ behind the pancreas. Purpose unknown. Seems linked to their ability to manipulate blood. The poor rotary ability of joints in favour of accommodating their mass.'' Surely but slowly, a plan began to form in Claude''s mind, though it was ever the gamble. However, there was also the pressing matter of the people in the room. What was he to do with them¡­? ''Do I just let them go?'' Claude''s eyebrows creased. ''Impossible. That''s the behaviour of a fool. Just from listening to that man''s words they seem to have a deal with the Bloodborne. They aren''t trustworthy.'' ''But. Do I have to kill them?'' His fists clenched as he thought about it. To take so many lives... the mere idea disgusted Claude. Especially considering there may be innocents there that were unwillingly brought there. Claude''s fist clenched as he deliberated his options, and he soon came to a decision. ''Fine. That''ll do.'' ----- ---------- ---------------- "Next." The oddly dressed Bloodborne growled at the next person in line, an ordinary-looking woman in the crowd. "Yes, yes I hear you." Shaking her head the woman ignored the Bloodborne and sauntered over to the pool. "Finally." Taking a deep breath, a crazed look marred the woman''s face. "With this power, I can serve Him! I finally have the right to be His servant." Without hesitation, the woman''s legs tensed as she readied herself to dive into the pool. Yet, before she could attempt to, she collapsed onto the floor. ''What? Why do I feel so¡­'' As the woman lay there, her eyes slowly began to close. "Tired?" It wasn''t just the woman, all the people around her soon began to drop like flies, each one succumbing to the sudden assault of drowsiness. "What! Bug, dead?" One of the Bloodborne guards looked at a Bloodborne draped in human garb. "No dead. They sleep?" The clothed Bloodborne answered the doubts of its comrades, as it slowly backed away from the room, towards the staircase. Unlike its slower companions, this one knew full well this wasn''t just some freak accident. Something¨Dno, someone caused this. Pssst! A soft whistling sound pierced the air, drawing the attention of the Bloodborne. Yet none of them were able to notice anything out of the ordinary. "Borg! Look! You, hurt?" One of the guards pointed at one of his comrades, drawing everyone''s attention. On one of the guards'' bodies, a small hole appeared in its abdomen. "Huh? You, right. Borg feels odd. Strange wound feels itchy." The clueless fellow scratched his skull as he replied. Nevertheless, one person in the room felt an unholy terror grasp him. And that was of course the one bright bulb amongst the Bloodborne present. ''Borg bleeding? Not healing?'' This garishly clothed Bloodborne was acutely aware that such a small wound should have healed in mere seconds. Psst! Psst! Psst! This time multiple sounds echoed in the room. Upon hearing this, the oddly dressed Bloodborne, turned around and tried to make a break for it, even ignoring the sensation he felt near his gut. Hope flooded his otherwise dim eyes as he neared the top of the staircase, yet, the sound of something rushing towards him caused him to turn his head. Whoosh! "No¨D!" Without even having the chance to say his last words his world soon turned to darkness. Patter! The sound of footsteps echoed from behind the corpse as Claude''s figure soon revealed itself. "Well, that was a successful gamble¡­" Claude shook his head. "Who would have imagined that a small organ hidden behind the pancreas could hold such immense power? It''s almost as perplexing as the human brain¡ªan entirely physical structure¡ªgiving rise to something as abstract as consciousness." On the topic of humans, Claude sighed as he thought about the unconscious people he left there. To knock them unconscious he had attempted to further manipulate the molecules in the air, thankfully for him, the air here seemed similar to the worlds he was used to. He had managed to create a strange concoction, known as ''Laughing Gas''. In the Cult Machina Sacra archive from earlier, he learned this gas was a type of anaesthetic mainly used for medical procedures¡ªnamely for the attachment of metallic limbs. Nevertheless, he remembered that high concentrations of it could lead to rendering one unconscious. However, he still wasn''t sure if what he did was the right thing. For all he knows the moment they wake up, they might fervently leap into the pool like that woman or they might try and run away just to eventually be hunted down. "Whatever happens, at least I gave them a faint chance in surviving this ordeal, no matter how small it may have been¡­" Shaking his head, Claude tried to remove these lingering thoughts from his mind. Lumbering up the final stretch of the staircase, Claude felt himself momentarily blinded by a glaring white light. [Lord] Squinting against he gleaming brilliance, Claude''s eyes took a moment to refocus. It was an unearthly sight¡ªendless white marble stretched as far as the eye could see. The walls, the floor, and even the ceiling, all gleamed with a radiant white sheen that seemed almost unnatural in its perfection. Claude''s eyes traced the hallway, noting how the walls curved together, forming a seamless series of arches that faded into the horizon Yet, for all its beauty, the sight was deeply unsettling. It was a place that seemed to defy the passage of time as if eternity had been etched into the stone. Claude sighed, trying to shake off the heavy feeling that had settled in his chest. "At least there''s a change in scenery...?" he muttered, trying to muster some optimism. But even he couldn''t ignore the dread gnawing at his thoughts. How many more times will he have to walk through vast halls? It was a question he knew no answer to. Walking forwards Claude''s footsteps echoed hollowly off the marble, their sound swallowed by the vastness of the space. As he walked he realised that the walls weren''t entirely bare¡ªalong one side, a tapestry ran the length of the corridor. Claude''s gaze scanned the vivid scenes painted. A familiar winged entity hovered over a sprawling city, its form indistinct, but its eyes¡ªthose crimson eyes¡ªstill burned with scorn. Below it, figures of humans prostrated in worship, their forms small and insignificant compared to the monstrous being above. In the next scene, the entity was locked in battle with a sword-wielding warrior clad in armour, a tattered cape billowing behind them. Others soon joined him¡ªa woman holding a trident and a crown, a figure shrouded in lightning, and a giant wielding a hammer the size of mountains. Together, they stood against the winged entity. Claude''s eyes narrowed as he moved further down the corridor. The figures disappeared, leaving behind a city reduced to a massive crater, the ground cracked and desolate. Above it, the pointed sun engraved into the marble had been replaced by a cold, empty circle¡ªperhaps the moon, perhaps not. To most, this scene might have simply depicted the passage of time, day turning into night and the end of this supposed battle. But Claude knew better. ''This is the Fall...'' Claude thought, his mind racing. ''But how...? Who made this...?'' His mind flicked to those people he had seen in that room with a pool of blood, he felt like he already knew the answer Time lost its meaning as Claude continued his journey, the tapestry beside him shifting in its narrative. Claude''s steps faltered as the hours¡ªor perhaps days¡ªpassed. His legs ached, and his throat was parched, but he pressed on, drawing water from the air with a quick spell to quench his thirst. He couldn''t afford to stop, not now, not when an escape might be just within reach¡ªor at least he hoped. The only thing to distract him from this seemingly eternal trek was the stories depicted by the tapestry. Which, by now, no longer depicted the world he knew, the landscapes were now alien and the figures unknown. And, the final story it showed was perhaps the oddest of the bunch.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Unlike the others, this tapestry showed a war with three opposing forces. On one side, was a towering winged entity, which Claude instinctively recognised as ''Zethrax'', or whatever its true name was. Whilst, on the other side, an army of familiar steel titans, their ranks stretching into the horizon. But it was the third figure that dominated the scene, seizing Claude''s gaze and attention. This monstrous being was depicted with twisted, blackened flesh and unnaturally elongated limbs. Beneath its bloated torso, the lower half of the creature was serpentine, coiled around the ruins of fallen cities, its scales etched with the tormented faces of the damned. Massive, clawed hands dripping with a black, oily substance, seeped onto the landscape beneath it. Its face was a grotesque duality: one-half smooth and beautiful, the other hideously deformed, with fiery eyes and a grin that revealed rows of jagged teeth. A crown of twisted thorns and bones hovered above its head. Who was that? Perhaps another God? What world did this all occur in? Whilst Claude''s thoughts hovered on the tapestry, he was snapped out of his thoughts by a change in his surroundings. He finally saw something ahead¡ªsomething that filled him with fragile hope. The marble hallway he had been traversing came to an end, branching into three distinct paths. On either side, massive doors loomed, each carved from the same pristine white marble, their surfaces smooth and unadorned, save for their imposing size. In stark contrast, the path in the middle lay open and vulnerable, unguarded by any such barrier. ''Marble doors... Who would ever craft such an absurd thing?'' Claude thought, his weariness momentarily forgotten as he approached. Two of the doors stood to either side, imposing and immovable. He pushed against one, then the other, using all his strength, but they didn''t budge. They might as well have been carved from the very bones of the earth. Plopping himself down between the entrances, Claude indulged in his thoughts, frustration gnawing at him. "Do I just blast my way through one of these? Or do I use the one without a door¡­?" His gaze shifted to the third entrance, a dark passageway that seemed to absorb the light around it. Shadows clinging to it like the gaping maw of some horrible beast. The idea of using his magic to force his way through one of the doors was tempting, but the thought of what might be lurking behind them held him back. He had no desire to openly expose himself to whatever might be lying in wait. For all he knows, the moment he blasts open one of those doors, he might be ambushed and caught unaware. The open passage was ominous, but at least it presented a clear path forward. With a final sigh, Claude made his decision. He stood and began his careful descent into the darkness. Inch by inch, he pushed forward, his senses on high alert. Fwish! With a sudden rush of air, the torches lining the walls flared to life, one after another, casting flickering light across the marble. Claude flinched, instinctively attempting to conjure a spell before controlling himself. ''I have nine spells left, I can''t waste any...'' He forced himself to keep moving, trying to rid himself of that voice telling him to turn around and try another path, and he soon recalled the words of a certain old man. Claude, when you make a decision, commit to it fully. In the moment, there''s no way to know if it''s right or wrong¡ªsuch truths reveal themselves only in hindsight. But hesitation is your enemy. It breeds weakness, and weakness invites failure. And failure... leads to despair. Gritting his teeth, Claude continued deeper into the passage, his footsteps echoing in the now-illuminated hallway. Finally, the torches ended, leaving only darkness ahead. Claude''s head swivelled around trying to peer into the darkness for something. Something to at least calm himself down. Something to stop the hammering of his heart within his chest. And then, a voice sounded. "Oh my! Look what we have here... A lost insect wandering my domain?" The words were laced with amusement, echoing around him from every direction. "Who?!" Claude''s head snapped towards where the voice came from. Click! The sound of fingers snapping, and the entire area was flooded with light. Chandeliers overhead, previously dormant, burst into a dazzling brilliance, illuminating the grand chamber he now found himself in. Claude''s eyes quickly scanned the room, trying to take in everything at once. An imposing throne sat upon a mountain of bones, flanked by two large fountains¡ªeach one flowing not with water, but with blood, some of it dark and clotted, some bright and fresh. The smell suffocating. And on that throne sat a figure, humanoid in shape, but twisted in every other sense. It was no larger than Claude, but its presence was overwhelming. Crimson skin, horns curling from its head, and a grin that showed fanged teeth¡ªit was a monster. No, rather a¡ªdemon. [Agourth] "Pray tell, how did a mortal like you get through something that we had thought was closed for centuries?" The figure grasped its chin as it gazed at Claude, a dark grin spreading across its face, curiosity and malic seeping from its gleaming eyes. Claude''s mind spun, but not from fear¡ªinstead, a mixture of confusion and irritation boiled within him. His breath came in controlled bursts as he tried to piece together the puzzle. "You knew I was here¡­? No, you led me here¡­!" Claude muttered as the realisation hit him. "The two guards disappearing, the room with that crimson pool appearing out of nowhere, and the doors...they were all locked, trapping me here like a rat in a maze¡­" Clap. Clap. The sound echoed through the dark chamber like thunder, each clap deliberate and mocking. "Colour me surprised; you figured it out!" It chuckled, a sinister glint flickering in his black sclera. "You''re right, of course. The moment you set foot in this castle of mine, I felt your presence. Though, I admit, I am surprised you survived this long. You humans are usually...so frail." "Your...castle?" Claude repeated, a spark of annoyance flickering in his chest. He already knew the answer, but the fact that he was so easily manipulated grated on his nerves. The monster''s twisted smile widened. "Yes, my castle. You, poor soul, are in Limbo¡ªa realm bridging the gap between your precious material plane and the subspace." His voice dripped with amusement as if Claude''s struggle was nothing more than a passing entertainment. "This place is no sanctuary, boy. It''s a prison, and now...you are trapped." Claude felt the weight of the situation pressing down on him, but instead of succumbing to panic, he clenched his fists, frustration building. How had he allowed himself to be played so easily? "And who are you exactly?" Claude asked, fighting to steady his breathing. Every second he could buy was a second closer to a plan forming in his mind. "Ah, I see you wish to know the name of your executioner before the end." The monster rose from its throne, its lanky, towering form casting a long shadow over the chamber. "I am Ag''ourth, Reaper of a Thousand Souls, The Shadow of Despair... and a servant of the Shadowfiend." His voice boomed like a death knell. Ag''ourth''s claws gleamed as he stepped forward. "Now, mortal, how is it that you wish to die?" Claude''s lips pressed into a thin line. He forced a smirk, his annoyance leaking through. "Haven¡¯t decided yet¡ªwhat are my options?" The amusement drained from Ag''ourth''s eyes, replaced by a cold fury. "Are you mocking me, human?" Before Claude could even utter a response, Ag''ourth vanished. A blur of black and crimson appeared in front of him¡ªthose serrated, blackened claws aimed straight for Claude''s throat.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Instinct screamed at him to move, but his body refused to respond. It felt as though his blood was sluggish, bound by some invisible force. The powers of the Bloodborne... Claude''s thoughts raced. In the depths of his mind, information about the Bloodborne told by Karl floated into his thoughts. The higher-ranked ones can control the blood of their enemies. That''s what Ag''ourth is doing... In a desperate attempt to survive, Claude summoned all his mental energy. His mind strained, and a rotating dome of water burst into existence around him. The dome whirled at incredible speed, deflecting Ag''ourth''s strike. Clang! Ag''ourth''s claws met the swirling water, recoiling with a metallic shriek."What?! A mage? No wonder you got here unharmed!" Shock flickered across the monster''s twisted features. "But, how did a mage escape from that cursed place?! It''s under a temporal lockdown!" Claude''s mind caught on the strange words, but there was no time to dwell. Ag''ourth clicked his tongue in annoyance and retreated several steps. Raising a hand, he summoned the blood from the crimson fountains around the room. It coalesced into dark, gleaming chains that shot towards Claude with terrifying speed. Claude gritted his teeth as the shackles of blood wrapped around his water dome. Ag''ourth''s voice slithered through the air, mocking him. "You don''t really think this turtle shell of yours is impregnable, do you?" The chains began to spin in the opposite direction of the water''s current, tightening with relentless pressure. The dome cracked, groaning under the strain, until finally¡ª Shatter! The sound was sharp, like the shattering of crystals, as droplets of water scattered in all directions. Claude barely had time to brace himself as the force sent him stumbling back. Ag''ourth moved with eerie grace, dodging Claude''s desperate attempts to fight back and rapidly closed the ground between them. Spears of water collided with the blood chains in a relentless barrage, each strike more desperate than the last. At a certain point, Claude had condensed so much water he didn''t need to make any more, now he just had to manipulate the water that had seeped onto the floor. ''This can help mitigate my consumption, but...'' Claude''s breath grew ragged; his mental energy was nearly spent. He couldn''t keep up this pace much longer. He knew he had to end it¡ªnow before his power completely gave out. With a final surge of mental energy, he conjured a massive cage of water around both himself and Ag''ourth, the swirling tendrils closing in like a tightening vice. "A last, desperate move? What a fool! How dare you face me in close quarters?" Ag''ourth laughed cruelly. "Come now, offer your life to me!" He lunged, his claws aimed for Claude''s chest. Claude''s eyes widened as he saw the claws draw ever closer but at this point, a smile appeared on his face. I got you. Claude mouthed as Ag''ourth paused, his eyes wide with confusion. "What...what is this?!" he snarled. He pulled back, only to find his claws stuck, embedded in the ground in front of Claude. His strike had missed¡ªentirely. "How...?" Ag''ourth growled, enraged. Claude''s lips curled into a grim smile. "I may not be as strong as you, but at least I''m not as foolish," he whispered through gritted teeth. With a flick of his fingers, a blade of water formed in the air. It condensed, sharpened, and in one swift, precise move¡ªit cleaved through Ag''ourth''s neck. The monster''s head toppled to the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief as his body crumpled beside it. Claude collapsed to his knees, panting heavily, exhaustion and fatigue slowly climbing through his frame. He grimaced in pain but managed to smirk. "Luckily...I used the Air Telescope spell," he muttered. The Air Telescope spell wasn¡¯t meant for combat. Yet, in this desperate situation, Claude used it on Ag''ourth instead of himself. By creating lenses of heated air to distort Ag''ourth''s perception of distance, he managed to catch his foe off guard. As Claude tried to catch his breath, the ground beneath him began to quake. The walls of the chamber groaned as if the entire realm itself was reacting to Ag''ourth''s demise. This realm called Limbo was falling apart. Claude clenched his fists, pushing himself to his feet as ignored the fatigue gnawing at him. "Really...? I just can''t seem to catch a breath, huh?" he muttered to himself. He had to find a way out¡ªbefore this crumbling realm buried him along with it. [Return] Steadying himself as he rose up, Claude fought to calm his breathing, his heart still pounding in his chest. He scanned the ruins around him. Where Ag''ourth''s throne had once loomed, there now lay only rubble. But amidst the crumbling debris, something unusual caught his eye¡ªa faint, golden glow that beckoned to him. Claude''s attention locked onto it. Slowly, shakily, he began to climb the uneven mound of bones toward the source of the light, his legs trembling beneath him. Every step was laborious, yet he forced himself forward. When he reached the summit, there it was: a crown. Its gold shimmered, pure and untarnished, as brilliant as the sunrise he had so longed for during his years trapped in that world forsaken by it. The sight stirred something in him¡ªa longing for home, for mornings that weren''t dim and moonlit. "What... is this?" Claude murmured, his voice barely a whisper. But as his gaze swept over the wreckage surrounding him, his jaw clenched. Hope, fragile as it was, sparked within him. "Whatever this thing is, maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªit can help me escape. I can''t exactly make it back to that strange red portal in time... And even if I did¡ª" he hesitated, "there''s no telling if it would send me home, or straight into another nightmarish realm." Without allowing doubt to stop him, Claude reached for the crown. The moment his fingers closed around it, a surge of warmth flooded through him. Blinding golden light erupted from the crown, swallowing the desolation around him. Just before darkness claimed him, a figure emerged from the glow¡ªits form impossible to define, yet distinctly golden. It was as though light itself had taken shape. The last thing Claude heard as he slipped into unconsciousness was a voice, soft and distant. "Thank you..." ----- ---------- ---------------- "Are you sure about this?" Karl asked, his voice low. In the dim light of Agnes'' store, sat Karl. Across from him, an elderly figure sat hunched in a worn chair. "Karl, what choice do we have anymore?" Gerard''s voice was rough, laced with the exhaustion of a lifetime. He turned his gaze to the window beside him, watching a familiar figure dart past. It was Oliver¡ªthe boy Claude had previously saved in Solaris, the boy who had once stammered in terror, now clean and dressed in fresh clothes, his laughter piercing the quiet gloom of the city. Outside, Oliver ran with the other children, their shrill cries of joy filling the narrow streets, their faces alight with happiness. Gerard smiled faintly, though it barely lifted the corners of his mouth. "Isn''t that why we did all of this? Fought, bled, suffered... so that kids like him could live without fear? Without the constant threat of the Bloodborne, or the beasts that stalk the forests?" Karl followed Gerard''s gaze, watching the children play. For a brief moment, a warmth spread in his chest. "Aye," he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. "For this." But as quickly as the peace settled over them, it shattered. Their smiles vanished as the dim moonlight, which had long bathed the city in an eerie glow, faded. The crimson hue that had been a constant in their lives for years started to wither, slowly retreating as though swallowed by an unseen force. A thick, inky darkness rolled in, swallowing the streets, the buildings, and the children''s laughter. Karl''s heart lurched. His breath caught in his throat as shouts and screams rose from the streets. "What''s happening...?" he whispered. Gerard was silent, his wrinkled hands tightening around the arms of his chair as he peered into the unnatural void outside. The air itself seemed to hold its breath. But then, just as abruptly as the darkness descended, it was banished.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. A searing, blinding light exploded across the land, flooding the city in a radiant brilliance they had only dreamed of in their darkest hours. Both men groaned as the intensity of the light burned against their eyes, forcing them to shield their faces. The pain was sharp, stabbing, but something deeper urged them to look¡ªto see what had come. With great effort, they blinked through the agony and stared upward. And there it was, suspended in the sky like a long-forgotten dream, impossibly real yet overwhelming in its presence. A sun. Golden and blazing, filling the heavens with its glory, whilst bathing this forsaken land in warmth and light. Gerard''s mouth fell open, his voice trembling. "It''s... it''s real..." For a moment, neither of them could speak. The impossible had happened. Their world finally had light. ----- ---------- ---------------- In a twisted, crimson void, an impossibly vast and shifting landscape stretched endlessly in all directions. The realm was a nightmare made real, where the sky bled scarlet and black lightning crackled through the air. Great swirling maelstroms churned violently across the horizon, tearing at reality itself, as twisted spires and dark fortresses loomed like jagged teeth, half-formed from the madness. This was the Subspace, a realm where the very laws of physics twisted and frayed at the edges of comprehension. In the midst of this maddening landscape, several beings gathered. They were entities that defied mortal understanding, their forms constantly shifting between states of solidity and ether. Some loomed tall like dark monoliths, their bodies twisted and adorned with barbed armour and jagged spines. Others were smaller, more agile, with bodies that flickered like shadows, their forms barely distinguishable from the seething chaos around them. One figure, a hulking brute whose skin oozed with a viscous black fluid, stood silently at the centre. Its head was a mass of writhing tendrils, and where eyes should have been, there were only deep, hollow voids that seemed to swallow all light. Beside it, another entity hovered, its form more amorphous and insidious¡ªconstantly shifting between shapes, from serpentine coils to insect-like limbs, as if it could never decide on a single, stable form. "What happened?! How did we lose contact with Ag''ourth?" The brute''s voice boomed across the void, its anger palpable. The other more amorphous entity soon answered. "We don''t know... But there were... traces... of magic...". Its voice rasped like rough sandpaper against dry wood. The first figure''s tendrils twitched with barely restrained rage. "Magic? You don''t mean...?" Its voice trailed off, filled with suspicion and dread. "Yes..." The second figure wheezed, its form flickering as if struggling to remain coherent. "It was the work of a mage. A weak one... but a mage... nonetheless." For a moment, all the shadowy entities fell into a heavy silence, as their collective rage and fear thickened the air around them. Then the first figure spoke again, this time with fury dripping from every word. "Damn it! Didn''t He already devour that world?! Why are these pests still alive and running?!" At this, another figure, monstrous in size, with twisted, horns and a bloated body leaking molten lava, let out a low growl. "Now that you say that..." it rumbled. "We may follow the Shadowfiend... but when was the last time we heard anything... about Him?" "You mean... The Afflicter?" one of them finally muttered, its voice trembling. At the mention of the title, all the entities recoiled, their twisted forms instinctively shrinking back into the shadows. A silence descended over the group, as though the mere mention of that name had drained the life from the space around them. "Eons..." another entity murmured, its voice barely more than a whisper. This one was the most grotesque of them all¡ªa hunched mass of flesh, with dozens of eyes blinking in random patterns across its body. "His followers... their prayers have gone unanswered... for so long..." "Whatever," the first figure spat, regaining its composure, though its tendrils writhed with tension. "It''s none of our concern. Let those Plague Bearer scum deal with the magical vermin. That world is a lost cause now¡ªwe can''t afford to provoke a war with another subspace faction." Finally, in unison, they echoed the words that bound them to this forsaken existence, their voices a chorus of low, guttural whispers. "May the shadows guide us..." And with that, they dissolved back into the shifting chaos, their forms melding seamlessly into the crimson nightmare, leaving the space between them to churn with the same seething malevolence that defined their realm. ----- ---------- ---------------- With a quiet groan, Claude slowly blinked his eyes open. His vision swam, and a dull ache pulsed at the back of his head. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his bearings, but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Where... am I now?" Shaking off his disorientation, Claude pushed himself to his feet, but his movements stilled as soon as he took in his surroundings. His eyes darted around, wide and frantic at first¡ªuntil realisation struck. The tension in his body melted into shock. It was a place he knew all too well. A small, unassuming cottage. Dust blanketed the worn wooden furniture, the thick layer softening the edges of chairs and shelves as though time itself had frozen here. The hearth in the corner lay dead and cold. Everything had an air of abandonment, yet... nothing was out of place. The wooden walls, the small table with its single chair¡ªit was all as he remembered. As if pulled from a distant dream, or perhaps a memory he''d buried deep. "I''m... back," Claude breathed, his words tinged with a mix of relief and exhaustion. He was home. [Revenge] Claude glanced around. Apart from the shroud of dust that now coated every surface, the place looked eerily unchanged from how he had left it all those years ago. "How long have I even been gone?" He muttered. But before he could ponder further, a sharp pain lanced through his skull. Claude grimaced, clutching his head. "Damn it¡­ That fight drained every bit of my mental energy." It was clear¡ªhe couldn''t even muster the strength to cast a simple Tier 0 spell. The realisation left him weary. With nothing left to do but rest, he shook his head, resigned to his current state. Dragging himself towards where he remembered his bedroom to be, Claude dropped onto the familiar, worn mattress. A cloud of dust erupted from the sheets, sending him into a coughing fit as the stale particles invaded his lungs. Struggling to ignore the irritating haze, his mind began to drift, floating back to that strange world where he had spent so many years. "I can''t believe I was trapped there for over six years¡­" The thought left a heavy silence in the air. He had changed so much in that time, more than he could comprehend. And yet, something else nagged at him. ''Then there''s them¡­ Gerard¡­ I hope he found his way to the ruins by now. It should have been safe¡ªI had practically cleared every threat from the place when I last passed through.'' His thoughts then turned to Peter, Karl, Agnes, and the others. What had become of them? ''I hope they''re safe now¡­ with that strange realm collapsed, at least they won''t have to worry about any invasions¡ªat least not for a while¡­'' ----- ---------- ---------------- In a lush emerald forest outside the village, Claude sat quietly in a small clearing, the firelight sent red sparks dancing in the breeze as a hare roasted over the crackling flames. The scent of roasted meat filled the air, and as he took a bite, a contented sigh escaped his lips. "Finally¡­ something to eat." The chaos that had ensued ever since Claude''s arrival in the city of Edessa had left him with little time for basic needs, and it wasn''t until he had awoken that he was hit with a ravenous hunger. Looking up at the pale blue sky, his eyes stung with the unfamiliar brightness. He squinted, rubbing his temples. "Hah¡­" he muttered. "It''ll take some time to get used to this light again." As he slowly chewed, his thoughts began to churn, trying to sort through the tangled threads of his next move. "I can''t seem to return to that world for some reason," he mused aloud, the memory of the bizarre tree coming to mind. "That strange tree seems quite content on ignoring me¡­" Frustration built in his chest. "So what am I supposed to do now?" he asked the open air, his voice thick with irritation. As if on cue, a single word floated to the forefront of his mind.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Elysium. He had seen it mentioned before, in Raymond''s diary. Reaching into his tunic, Claude pulled out the small, weathered book he always carried with him, its pages creased and worn from countless readings. Flipping through the familiar entries, he searched for those same words. Elysium. Mage. Council. The words seemed to stand out more clearly than ever, almost leaping off the page as he skimmed through the passages. "Is Elysium some sort of mage organisation?" Claude wondered aloud. But even as he spoke, a sinking realisation struck him. "Even if it is¡­ how am I supposed to find it?" He rubbed his temples again, feeling a headache brewing as he realised he was essentially searching for a ghost. Like finding a single leaf within the deepest of forests. "And even if I do find it," he muttered, "who''s to say they''ll even accept me?" The weight of his confusion pressed down on him, a familiar heaviness that threatened to suffocate him. Then suddenly¡ª Neigh! Claude froze his muscles tensing as he recognised the sound. A chill ran down his spine. "Don''t tell me¡­" He shot to his feet, his senses sharpening as he scanned the forest''s edge. Emerging from the shadowed treeline, three monstrous figures loomed into view. Their skin appeared flayed, their exposed muscles gleaming wetly in the light. Empty, hollow sockets stared out from where eyes should have been, and their towering forms easily dwarfed any grown man. Memories of the past flooded Claude''s mind, paralysing him. His fists clenched involuntarily. ''Not this time,'' he thought bitterly. He wouldn''t be helpless again. Not now. Not ever. Neigh! The creatures let out a collective, nightmarish scream, their grotesque bodies rushing forward as they charged towards him in unison. The forest floor trembled under the force of their movements. Tat! Tat! Tat! Claude exhaled slowly, shaking off the panic that threatened to overtake him. Tapping into his mental energy reserves, he forced himself to stay calm. His years of growth and hard-earned maturity guided him as he calculated the most efficient way to deal with the oncoming threat. Three spears of water materialised in the air before him, glistening like polished glass. With a sharp flick of his hand, he launched them at his incoming foes, watching as the projectile pierced the beast''s chest and sent it tumbling to the ground. But the charge had been relentless, and the momentum of the others sent them barrelling towards him regardless. Clicking his tongue in frustration, Claude summoned a rotating dome of water to surround himself, its surface spinning violently. The moment the creatures collided with the barrier, their decaying flesh was ripped apart by the torrent, their bodies flung backwards and crashing into nearby trees. But even with their flesh shredded, the creatures rose again, their vitality unsettling. The thick, green ichor that leaked from their wounds¡ªa grotesque parody of blood¡ªdid little to slow them. Claude''s jaw tightened. He had no desire to drag this out much longer. Condensing the moisture in the air, forming an enormous hand of water that shimmered in the sunlight. He thrust the hand forward, crushing one of the beasts in its watery grasp. Green liquid exploded outward, dissolving the vegetation around the clearing in a sizzling hiss. Yet, Claude remained unharmed, shielded by a protective screen of water. His eyes narrowed. This was the most effective approach. Summoning the hand once more, he swiftly dispatched the remaining two creatures, their bodies crushed into oblivion as green liquid splattered across the forest. Panting slightly, Claude surveyed the destruction around him. Only now did the full weight of his power hit him. The strength he wielded now was far beyond what it had been before. He had avenged his teacher and those he had lost. No longer did he have to run away. No longer would he have to shrink back in fear. No longer would he be helpless to protect those he wanted to save. "Old man¡­ I''ve avenged you. I''ve avenged everyone." His voice wavered slightly. "But this won''t be the end. I''ll keep going. I''ll keep getting stronger. Never again will I be so helpless!" A new fire burned within him, his resolve crystallising into something solid. His mind began to boil with plans for the future. There was no going back¡ªonly forward. ''The only thing I can do now is find a nearby city¡­ maybe I can learn more about Elysium there.'' Shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight, Claude gazed up at the unending cloudless blue above him. "I guess Littorbourg it is¡­" [Littorbourg] Claude walked the cobblestone streets of Littorbourg, his boots tapping softly against the uneven surface. The bustling coastal city stretched out before him, a maze of narrow, winding alleyways and broad thoroughfares crowded with people. A cool breeze from the sea brought with it the sounds of seagulls and the distant clamour of ships creaking in the harbour. He passed a fruit stall where a lively vendor argued with a sharp-tongued customer over the freshness of his wares. The scent of overripe oranges mingled with the tang of salt air, and the lively chatter made Claude feel strangely out of place. However, he was not able to appreciate the rustic charm of the coast city. His mind was elsewhere, spinning through his worries and uncertainties. "Never would I have thought that, me, someone embarking on the road of a mage. Someone who had literally travelled to another realm and fought monsters. That the same me would be penniless..." he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. Yes. Claude had just hit upon a depressing truth. He had no money. Not only that, but he also had little to no clue how to earn it. After all, Claude hadn''t lived in a particularly civilized place these past few years. Surviving through magic and fighting creatures in distant lands hadn''t exactly prepared him for the mundane challenges of city life. ''I won''t actually have to sleep on the streets, will I?'' He pondered sombrely. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on him¡ªhe¡¯d recently been locked in a life-or-death struggle with a demon in an ungodly realm, and now he couldn¡¯t even muster enough coin for a crust of bread. As he wandered deeper into the city, Claude''s mind churned through possible solutions to his predicament. Physical labor? He quickly dismissed the idea. He wouldn''t earn much, and it would drain the energy he needed for his real purpose in Littorbourg: investigating Elysium, a possible mage haven. Fishing? He had no experience with it and no means to procure the necessary tools. As for relying on luck, Claude had an inkling of a feeling he wasn''t particularly lucky. "I need a job that isn''t too physically taxing but would also help me learn more about this world," Claude murmured to himself. "After all, my understanding of this place is still at the level of a village boy..." As his mind raced, Claude''s eyes landed on a tall stone building near the heart of the city. His gaze sharpened, and a glimmer of hope sparked in his chest. "Why did I forget about that!" Claude berated himself and immediately began moving towards the building. A building loomed ahead of him, an imposing structure of dark, weathered stone and high-arched windows. The roof was crowned with copper spires, now green with patina from years of exposure to the coastal elements. Above the heavy wooden door hung a carved wooden sign depicting an open book framed by a sunburst.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Claude pushed open the doors and stepped inside. At once, the air changed; the bustling noise of the city fell away, replaced by silence. He was greeted by the sight of countless bookshelves stretching into the distance, filled with volumes of varying sizes and ages. The room was lit by soft sunlight streaming through the high windows, casting a golden glow over the worn wooden floors and the towering shelves. A few well-worn reading tables were scattered throughout, their surfaces scratched from years of use. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings filled the air, along with the faint tang of salt that seemed to permeate everything in Littorbourg. At the centre of the library sat an elderly man behind a desk, peering through a monocle at the pages of a thick book. His white hair was neatly combed, and his spectacles perched precariously on the edge of his nose. The man''s face was lined with age, but his eyes remained sharp. Claude approached the desk and cleared his throat, feeling a twinge of awkwardness as his voice echoed faintly in the vast room. The elderly man didn''t look up. Claude coughed a bit louder this time. "What is it you want?" the old man barked, his voice scratchy. "Can''t you see I''m reading here? Darn kids these days¡­ no patience." "Good morning," Claude began, his voice trailing off as he glanced around for the right words. "I was wondering if..." The old man snapped his book shut with a sigh and looked up at Claude, his eyes narrowing. "Well, come on then, spit it out." "Right, right," Claude stammered. "I was wondering if you were hiring here. For a... librarian''s assistant, perhaps?" The old man raised an eyebrow, scanning Claude up and down with scepticism. "You''re literate?" he asked. Claude nodded. The old man seemed surprised. He tossed the book he had been reading over to Claude with a careless flick of his wrist. "Show me," he commanded. "Read." Claude caught the book and hesitated. It was a slim volume with a green cover, the title embossed in gold. With a glance at the old man, he turned to the first page and began to read aloud, his voice steady. As the words left his lips, the old man''s expression shifted from scepticism to surprise. The man nodded slowly. "Well, well. Seems you weren''t lying," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Not bad." "You¡¯re lucky to have your literacy," the old man said, his eyes softening. "Books are the only reliable friends in this world. They¡¯ll never betray you, lad. Only teach you what you¡¯re willing to learn." He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his eyes regaining their sharpness as he considered Claude. "You can start tomorrow," the old man said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Claude hesitated. "Would it be possible to start today?" The old man squinted at him. "Why the rush?" "Because," Claude said with a half-hearted chuckle, "if I don''t start now, I''ll probably end up sleeping on the streets." The old man blinked, clearly taken aback by the statement. "You have no money?" he asked, the confusion clear in his voice. A literate man without money was a rare sight. Claude nodded wryly. The old man rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing as if scrutinizing a puzzle only he could see. For a brief moment, his expression flickered¡ªnot quite pity, but something far more calculated. Then, it softened. "Were you affected by those bandit attacks last year?" he leaned forward and asked quietly. "A lot of villages around here were wiped out¡­ barely any survivors." Claude stared at him for a moment, taken aback by the assumption, but chose not to correct him. The truth was far stranger¡ªand far harder to explain. "Something like that," Claude replied vaguely. The old man stood and patted Claude on the shoulder. "Well, you''re safe here, lad. Littorbourg¡¯s got the sea, the salt in the air, seagulls that''ll decorate you with bird droppings if you''re not careful, and townsfolk who brood like the weather. It¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯s a place to start fresh." ''Well I sure hope so...'' Claude muttered inwardly, he didn''t want to deal with any more dangerous situations. He just needs to work here for a few months, gain a better understanding of the world and try and get to Elysium. It shouldn¡¯t be too difficult? Or so he hoped. [Red Rooster Inn] Back on the streets of Littorbourg, Claude strolled towards his next destination, clutching a small pouch, filled with a few coins tightly in his hand. "At least thanks to Mr. Pierre, I''ve managed to sort out my money trouble for now..." Claude muttered to himself, releasing a sigh of relief. The librarian had kindly advanced him a few days'' wages. But beyond the temporary financial reprieve, something else gnawed at him. Mr. Pierre''s words kept replaying in his mind. ''Don''t tell me it wasn''t just my village that got attacked by those creatures? And was it really just covered up as a bandit attack?'' Claude felt a growing annoyance. How could people believe that a bandit group, no matter how organized, could annihilate several villages and then simply vanish without a trace? The mere thought of it was absurd. He couldn''t decide whether to feel speechless at the people''s naivety or disgusted by the authorities'' blatant disregard for the lives lost that night. Perhaps, it was both. As he walked, lost in his thoughts, a rough hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder, jolting him into awareness. Claude turned to find the owner of the hand, a sallow young man with a predatory grin, his crooked teeth on full display. "Hey! You there! You''re a new face around here. First time in Littorbourg?" The man''s voice was rough and gravelly. Claude blinked, taken aback by the sudden interaction. "Yes? Can I help you?" The man chuckled, a sound that sent an uncomfortable shiver down Claude''s spine. "Haha, don''t worry. I''m here to give you an opportunity. It''s hard to make a living in this city by yourself. Why don''t you join our Grey Falcon Gang?" "Gang?" Claude''s voice echoed his rising confusion as he answered. "Don''t be daunted by the name." The man waved a dismissive hand, trying to sound reassuring. "It''s just a group of brothers trying to make a living and using our lives to serve a greater cause." Claude had to bite back a laugh, incredulous at the man''s audacity. ''A gang serving a greater cause? Do you think I''m an imbecile? The only cause you''re serving is crime and violence.'' "Sorry, I need to get going. I''ll think about it and let you know later," Claude replied, his tone polite but firm. Without waiting for a response, he pulled away from the man''s grip and continued down the street, leaving the would-be recruiter standing there, bewildered. As Claude put more distance between himself and the gang member, he couldn''t help but ruminate on the encounter and the words Mr. Pierre had used to describe the city. ''Safe? From my understanding, having people recruiting gang members in the middle of the street doesn''t exactly inspire my confidence in the city''s security¡­'' Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he refocused on his surroundings and felt a small wave of relief wash over him as his destination came into view. Before him stood ''The Red Rooster Inn,'' a modest establishment that Mr. Pierre had recommended. The inn''s exterior was simple, with weathered wooden beams and a faded sign that depicted a vibrant red rooster. Despite its unassuming appearance, Claude felt a sense of comfort as he approached, recalling Mr. Pierre''s assurances that it was a good place to stay. Upon entering, Claude was greeted by the warm, slightly smoky atmosphere of the inn. The scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread filled the air, and the murmur of conversation from the patrons created a lively backdrop. Behind the counter stood the innkeeper, a stout woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanour. She looked up as Claude approached, her expression shifting from curiosity to a friendly smile.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. "Good day," Claude began, giving her a polite nod. "Mr. Pierre recommended this inn to me." The innkeeper raised her eyebrows, her face softening further. "Ah, Mr. Pierre! He''s sent us a few fine folks in his time." She leaned forward slightly as if considering something. "You know, if you''re looking for a place to stay, I can offer you a reduced price for a room, with meals included." Claude''s interest was piqued. "That sounds like a fair offer, but why such generosity?" The innkeeper chuckled warmly. "Well, there''s a small favour I''d ask in return. You see, my son, who''s nineteen, and my little daughter, who''s seven, need some help with reading and writing. If you could tutor them while you''re here, it would save me from hiring a teacher." She paused, giving him a thoughtful look. "It''s a good deal for you, too. Not only would you get a roof over your head and food in your belly, but you''d also be doing honest work and helping out a family. Plus, you can come and go as you please, and stay as long as you need." Claude hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. The thought of having a stable place to stay without worrying about daily expenses was tempting, and teaching children wasn''t a daunting task for him. In fact, it seemed like an opportunity that was too good to pass up. "That does seem like a rather fitting arrangement," Claude admitted, nodding slowly. "I think I''d be happy to take you up on that offer." The innkeeper''s smile widened. "Wonderful! I''ll show you to your room, then." After being introduced to his modest quarters and settling in, Claude made his way back down to the common area, where the evening meal was being served. He took a seat near the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the fire as he ate. The food was simple¡ªhearty stew and freshly baked bread. As he ate, he couldn''t help but listen in on the conversations happening around him. The inn was bustling with patrons, many of whom were in varying states of inebriation. Their voices carried snippets of stories, jests, and rumours, but one particular conversation caught Claude''s attention. At a nearby table, a group of older men sat huddled together, their faces flushed from drink and animated discussion. Their voices, though hushed, carried enough for Claude to catch bits and pieces. "I''m telling you, Henri swears he saw it with his own eyes¡ªa massive arm reaching out across the sky," one of the men said, his eyes wide with the thrill of storytelling. Another man chuckled, shaking his head sceptically. "Ah, old Henri sees a lot of things after a few cups of ale. Next, he''ll be saying he saw dragons flying over the river." "But what about the fish?" the first man pressed, leaning forward. "Ever since that night, the river''s been nearly barren. Fishermen are coming back with empty nets more often than not." A third man, stroking his greying beard thoughtfully, chimed in. "It''s true. My nephew''s a fisherman, and he''s been struggling to make ends meet lately. Says the river''s gone eerily quiet. No fish, no birds, nothing." The sceptical man took a swig from his tankard, considering this new information. "Could be just a natural shift. Rivers change all the time." "Maybe," the bearded man replied, his tone wavering. "But it''s not just the river. Have you noticed how the nights seem darker lately? And the silence... it''s unsettling." A brief hush fell over the group as they contemplated his words, the lively atmosphere of the inn contrasting sharply with the sombre turn in their conversation. Breaking the silence, the first man sighed and said, "Makes you miss the old days, doesn''t it? Back when Bertrand''s Blue Heron Tavern was still open. That place always felt alive, no matter what was happening outside." The mention of another tavern piqued Claude''s interest further. He leaned in subtly, trying to catch every word. "Ah, Bertrand''s place," the sceptical man mused, a nostalgic smile creeping onto his face. "Best ale in all of Littorbourg, and his wife''s cooking could bring a man to tears." "Do you think he''ll ever open it again?" the bearded man asked, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope. "Doubtful," the first man replied, his voice heavy with regret. "Ever since his wife passed away those few years back, he''s been a shadow of himself. Closed up the tavern and shut himself away from the world." "It''s a damn shame," the sceptical man added, shaking his head slowly. "That tavern was like a second home to so many of us. The laughter, the music, the community¡ªit all died when she did." "I heard that around the time he closed up, he started talking about strange things happening nearby," the bearded man said thoughtfully. "Whispers of odd sightings and uncanny sounds in the dead of night." The first man nodded. "Yes, I remember that. Some said grief was making him see things, but now with all these peculiar happenings, makes you wonder if there was more to his stories." "Perhaps Bertrand saw something he shouldn''t have," the sceptical man suggested, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Something that drove him to shut his doors and hide away." "Maybe someone should pay old Bertrand a visit," the bearded man proposed cautiously. "See how he''s holding up and maybe get some answers about what''s been going on." "Good luck with that," the first man scoffed gently. "Last I heard, he doesn''t open his door for anyone. Lives alone with his memories and ghosts." The group fell into silence, each man lost in his thoughts as the bustle of the inn continued around them. [History] As Claude lay in his modest room, his thoughts wandered back to the conversation he''d overheard earlier. "A giant hand, a dwindling catch of fish, and an old tavern that''s been closed for years..." He furrowed his brow, trying to piece it all together. "Are all cities in the empire so... tumultuous?" He sighed as he nestled into his bed. "I just hope these things aren''t connected to anything dangerous... All I want is to live peacefully for now." Yet, deep down, Claude knew that peace and quiet might not be in his future. His life had never been that simple, and it would be foolish to let his guard down. "I''m not sure if it''s safe to reveal my magic," he mused, "so I''ll keep practising in secret for now. And speaking of magic..." The thought of magic led him to two realisations. There was no immediate need to develop offensive spells; his strength was still limited by his rank as a Mage Apprentice, not by the spells at his disposal. But he desperately needed to find a way to enhance his mobility. In that final battle in Limbo, he''d been a sitting duck. Yes, he''d been immobilized, but even if he hadn''t been, there was no way he could have kept up with his opponent. He would still have been outmanoeuvred, forced to stand still like easy prey. With a resigned sigh, Claude shut his eyes, letting his body relax as his mind slipped into slumber. The rough woollen blanket itched against his skin, and the straw-stuffed mattress creaked under his weight, filling the small room with the scent of dried hay. Yet here, in this humble inn, at least for tonight, he found a semblance of safety. ----- ---------- ---------------- "At last!" With a sigh of relief, Claude dropped into a nearby chair. It was already the next day, and he found himself in the library again. Mr. Pierre, the head librarian, had gone out to run some errands, leaving Claude with the responsibility of managing the place. His tasks were clear: organize the scattered books, and assist visitors with borrowing and returning volumes. The work had been more taxing than he anticipated. Claude had spent hours meticulously sorting through the shelves, rearranging books that had been carelessly misplaced, and noting any that required repair. He greeted each visitor, answering their inquiries with as much politeness and efficiency as he could muster, all while ensuring that the library remained silent. There had been a constant flow of people, each with their own needs¡ª scholars in search of obscure texts, and the occasional curious traveller. Now that all his assigned tasks had been completed, Claude allowed himself a moment of respite. "I did not realise working could be so taxing..." he muttered to himself with a slow yawn.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Shaking his head to clear the lingering haze of exhaustion, he refocused his thoughts, rhythmically tapping the arms of the chair. His gaze drifted across the room, finally settling on a distant shelf. ''I should try to find some historical books,'' he mused, ''to gain a better understanding of the world around me... Something more substantial than childhood stories and myths...'' This new goal invigorated him, wiping away some of the fatigue that had settled into his bones. Rising from his chair, he walked over to the shelf he had in mind. From his earlier tasks, he remembered that most of the library''s collection consisted of literature and poetry. The historical records were tucked away in a quieter, more secluded section¡ªdustier, less frequented, but filled with invaluable documents. Invaluable to him, at least. Claude traced the spines of the books with his fingers as he walked along the shelf, skimming the titles. ''Not this one... Or this...'' Suddenly, he stopped as his fingers rested on a particular volume. The book had a dark brown leather cover, its edges worn with age. The title, written in dulled gold lettering, caught his eye. Chronicles of Arta: From the Ascension to the Fall Ren¨¦ d''Aubign¨¦, 13th Generation Archivist from the Royal Court of Francia Intrigued, Claude returned to his chair, settling into it as he opened the book and began to read. Oh, where to begin... Though many think of it as mere legend, the main story of this sorry continent begins with Kourosh. A familiar name to many¡ªa legend, a myth, but to most, a figure of fiction. After all, could gods and the like truly exist? Nevertheless, I will not bore you with what most of you already know. Kourosh, having ascended to the throne of the Usayan Kingdom, turned the point of his spear toward neighbouring nations. Within a decade, the hooves of the infamous Usayan cavalry had trampled the infantry of nearly every other realm on the continent. This was the first recorded use of horse archers in warfare on the lands of Arta, and it was certainly not the last... In the year 0 A.C. (After the Conquest), the Usayan Empire was established... 11 A.C., Kourosh enacted the Trade and Tribute Law, which standardized the collection of taxes across the empire, filling the imperial coffers while ensuring the flow of goods between conquered lands. 13 A.C., Rebel forces in the district of Assur were decisively crushed... 17 A.C., Kourosh embarked on a journey to the province of Tarsis, forging alliances that would strengthen his hold on his empire... On and on, Claude''s eyes flicked through the long list of historical dates until he stumbled upon something unexpected. 23 A.C., Kourosh fell unexpectedly ill, believed to be the result of his many years spent on the battlefield, and passed his throne to his eldest son, Ardeshir. 24 A.C., Kourosh passed away, aged 43... But what truly caught Claude''s attention was what came next. 36 A.C., The year that marked The Cataclysm and perhaps the most frightful event recorded in history¡ªthe beginning of The Missing Millennia. Claude''s breath caught as he read this, the words not fully sinking in at first. A missing millennium...? Shaking his head in confusion, he continued reading. The Missing Millennia is something no one has been able to explain. All historical records of this era seem to have vanished without a trace. The time from 36 A.C. to 1171 A.C. appears to have been erased from existence. Many now believe that these years never truly existed¡ªthat they are simply the result of mistranslated and exaggerated records. But I... I beg to differ. Claude''s fingers tightened on the pages as he read on. There are fragments¡ªsmall, overlooked details in genealogies, tales passed down in remote villages, and records kept by isolated monastic orders that suggest otherwise. One such example is the lineage of the House of Valois, which mysteriously skips from the year 40 A.C. to 1150 A.C., with no explanation. Another is the Legend of the Lost Kingdoms, a story recounted by the elders of the province of Arquen in Francia, which speaks of lands swallowed by a plague, their very names forgotten by time. These scattered remnants are the only evidence we have, but they suggest that something¡ªsomething beyond our understanding¡ªhappened during those lost centuries. What it was, or why it happened, remains a mystery. All we know is that after the Missing Millennia came the Age of Dawn... [Tutoring] "A missing millennium...?" Claude muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as the phrase branded itself into his thoughts. As much as he didn''t want to believe such a thing could occur, he had experienced similarly strange occurrences before. The impossible was not just possible in this world¡ªit was often a reality. ''I mean, wiping away a millennium of history seems unthinkable to the average person,'' he mused, ''but then again, so does crossing over to another realm...'' Yet, despite his attempts to make sense of it, a nagging thought lingered in the back of his mind. If someone¡ªor something¡ªhad indeed erased such a vast expanse of time from history, then why? Why would they do it? And more importantly, how? Claude''s thoughts swirled in a vortex of uncertainty, each question deepening the chasm of unease within him. And amidst this storm, the words of Ag''ourth reverberated through his mind. "What?! A mage? How did a mage escape from that cursed place? It''s under a temporal lockdown!" Claude propped his chin on his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. ''If I assume that this missing millennium is somehow connected to the subspace... then it no longer seems so implausible.'' The idea began to take shape in his mind, unsettling yet strangely logical. If time could be manipulated, then perhaps it could also be obscured, burying a secret in the boundless grave of history. But no sooner had the thought crystallized than Claude shook his head, dispelling it. ''Whatever...'' he told himself, pushing the notion aside. ''As fascinating as it is, it''s not my main concern right now... I need to focus on finding out more about Elysium.'' His thoughts returned to the immediate task at hand. There was no use getting lost in the mysteries of the past when the present demanded his full attention. With a sigh, Claude straightened up. There were answers to be found, and he would uncover them¡ªone step at a time. ----- ---------- ---------------- Later in the day, having finished his work at the library, Claude found himself lying down on the simple, but comfortable bed in his room at the inn. He let the faint creak of the wooden beams above lull him into a rare moment of rest. The soft murmur of voices from the inn''s common room below barely reached his ears, and for once, the world outside seemed distant, even surreal. However, just as he was beginning to drift off, there was a gentle knock at the door. Knock-Knock! Claude sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. "Come in," he called out. The door creaked open, revealing Claire, the inn''s proprietress. She stood there with her usual warm smile, her blonde hair tied back neatly, accentuating the softness of her green eyes.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The years had touched her with the faintest lines of age, but they only added to the gentle, maternal aura she exuded. "Claude, I hope I''m not disturbing you," she began. "Not at all," Claude replied, pushing himself fully upright. "What can I do for you, Claire?" "Well," she hesitated, her hands clasping nervously in front of her apron, "I was wondering if it might be possible for you to begin tutoring my children. Is now a good time?" Claude gave her a reassuring smile. "Of course. I''d be happy to start. Just let me gather my things." Claire''s smile widened, and she visibly relaxed. "Thank you, Claude. I''ll take you to them. They''re in one of the vacant rooms, all ready for their lesson." A few minutes later, after grabbing some notes he had prepared beforehand, Claude followed Claire down the narrow hallway of the inn. They reached the room at the end of the corridor, and Claire pushed open the door. Inside, two children waited. Jean, a lanky seventeen-year-old with unruly brown hair and sharp brown eyes, sat at a small wooden table, his fingers drumming lightly against the surface. Beside him, Anne¡ªher seven-year-old frame almost swallowed by the large chair she sat in¡ªrested her head slightly to one side, her posture weary. Her brown hair framed a delicate face, and her green eyes, though large and striking, drooped downwards. Anne glanced up at Claude with a curious gaze as he entered the room. She had never spoken a word since he arrived, and Claire had explained beforehand that she was mute¡ªa malady that had baffled the local healers. "Jean, Anne, this is Claude," Claire said softly, ushering him into the room. "He''s going to help you learn to read and write." Jean nodded curtly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed Claude. There was a guardedness to his gaze, one that surprised Claude, after all, he understood that externally he just seemed to look like an average scholar. Frail. Weak. Gentle. It was with little surprise that Claude found it odd how someone could instinctively be so guarded against him. Anne, meanwhile, kept her gaze on Claude, looking at her future teacher. "Let''s get started, shall we?" Claude said, forcing a smile as he set his books down on the table. He took a seat across from the pair. "We''ll begin with the basics¡ªletters, sounds, and then move on to forming words." As the lesson progressed, Claude noticed that Jean absorbed the material quickly despite his initial reluctance. He was a sharp, quick learner. However, occasionally, Claude caught Jean glancing over at Anne, his expression softening into something almost akin to worry, before hardening once more. ''Worry?'' Claude almost thought he was mistaken. Sure, he understood Anne''s unfortunate conditions, but the way Jean acted, it was as if Anne was going to die in the next passing moment. Meanwhile, Anne followed along quietly, her small hands clutching the quill as she attempted to copy the letters Claude wrote for her. Her green eyes, though bright, seemed duller now, and there were moments when she blinked slowly as if struggling to stay focused. "Very good, Anne," Claude said gently, watching her closely. "You''re doing well, but if you''re tired you could take a quick break." Anne gently shook her head, her gaze dropping back to the paper. Her movements, though precise, they lacked the energy of a child her age. It was as if she was merely going through the motions, her mind elsewhere. As the lesson drew to a close, Claude couldn''t help but feel that the first people he ever taught were rather odd. There was something off about the children¡ª yet, Claude couldn''t quite place his finger on it. "Thank you, Claude," Claire said as she entered the room to collect her children. "They''ve learned so much already." Claude forced a smile, hiding his thoughts and nodded politely. "It''s my pleasure. They''re both very bright." As Claire led the children away, Claude''s eyes lingered on Anne. He might not be the most learned man in the world, but the child''s condition piqued his interest slightly. ''She''s mute... But isn''t suffering any other significant ailment. Is her exhaustion coming from something physical, or is it more psychological? And, why have I never heard of an illness like this?'' As the door closed behind them, these questions only kept lingering at the back of his mind. [The Little Knight] Back in his room, Claude found himself pondering that tutoring session. "A mute little girl and an annoyed young man... What a combination..." He muttered though it wasn''t the oddity of their pairing that unsettled him. ''Her eyes... They don''t seem like the eyes of a child.'' He wasn''t talking about maturity or anything so mundane. It was something deeper. He saw fatigue in them, not just the weariness of a restless night, but a bone-deep exhaustion that didn''t belong in someone so young. But why would a child feel like that? ''Whatever... I''m probably overthinking it...'' Claude brushed off the thought with a wave of his hand. After all, what were the odds of something sinister lurking beneath a mere child''s fatigue? Shrugging his shoulders, Claude prepared to head out for dinner before turning in for the night. ----- ---------- ---------------- Time tumbled by like a whimsical child, both uncertain and untamed. Two months had passed since that tutoring session, and Claude''s days had become a routine of library duties, research, tutoring, and mage practice. Each day bled into the next, a steady rhythm that brought a sense of normalcy. Currently, he was back in the library, flicking through more books, his fingers tracing the worn spines. Over these weeks, he had gained a solid understanding of the history of Arta¡ªnot too in-depth, but enough to piece together a broader picture. And within that picture, he had finally found something that might be related to Elysium. The Treaty of Zagrashir. It was a treaty between the nations of Marduk and Assur, mediated by Francia and the Xi Dynasty. The treaty established a neutral zone in the Zagros Mountains, a piece of land bordering Marduk and Assur. To create this zone, both Francia and Xi had devoted significant efforts to form this treaty, convincing Marduk and Assur to each cede some of their territory. And that was why Claude found the entire ordeal so utterly odd.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ''What did Francia and Xi hope to gain from this? A neutral zone might help trade between Assur and Marduk, but that doesn''t seem to benefit Francia or Xi¡­ unless there''s something more.'' Claude pondered briefly, ''I mean, it can''t be due to the kindness of their hearts, can it?'' Irony tinging his thoughts. Furthermore, the name of the zone stuck out to Claude like a sore thumb. Haena. It was a term from the now-forgotten Uru tongue, a word that, according to the few references he found in the library, had a very specific meaning. Magic. Or more precisely, ''magic and/or ritualistic practices''. Claude felt a twinge of excitement. Could this be the clue he was searching for? Or was he overthinking again? Sighing, he put down the books and let his mind wander. "I wonder what Mr. Pierre is doing? I haven''t seen much of him recently..." he whispered, realising how little he had seen of the elderly gentleman lately. Mr. Pierre had always been a somewhat elusive figure to him, constantly heading out on errands or some other business. "How he managed to run the library alone before I came along is beyond me..." Claude mused. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar book. The Little Knight. Its blue cover was emblazoned with its title in striking black letters. It was a children''s book, one Claude knew well¡ªa tale about a boy of short stature named Tristan who embarks on a journey to defeat the evil sorceress Morgana. But it wasn''t the story that made it familiar. "Third time this month...? Why does this blasted book keep getting returned like this?" Claude muttered, confounded. The book had been returned frequently, yet no one ever handed it over directly; it just appeared on the desk as if by magic. As a children''s book, it was typically borrowed by affluent parents teaching their young ones basic reading skills. There was no reason to return it so quickly, especially when they could keep it for up to two weeks. Moreover, there was a fee to borrow books of 2 copper coins, a sum not insignificant to the average family. Why would someone waste their money only to return it so soon? Claude glanced at the registry for the last borrower¡ªa widow of the name Margaret. "Well, I hope she doesn''t regret squandering her coins on something like that..." he shrugged. His train of thought was interrupted by the creak of the library door as Mr. Pierre entered. The elderly gentleman surveyed the pile of books on the desk before chuckling. "Ever the studious one, I see. Well, it doesn''t matter as long as you''ve done your work for the day." Claude smiled. "Thank you." "No problem," Mr. Pierre waved dismissively, then checked the time on a rusty pocket watch. "Your shift is over. You can head out now." After placing the books back on their shelves and confirming the return of The Little Knight in the library ledger, Claude set out. As he walked through the city streets, his thoughts turned to his savings. He had managed to save around 25 silver coins from his wages, each silver coin equalled 100 copper coins, with 100 silver coins equalling a single gold coin. Thanks to his tutoring work waiving most of his living expenses, he had saved enough to consider travelling. The sum was by no means vast, but it would be enough to cover the costs of a modest journey, hopefully bringing him closer to the ever-mysterious Elysium. Claude soon arrived at a more secluded part of the city, where the hustle and bustle of the marketplace faded into the background. A smile crept onto his face as he reached his destination. "Well, then... time to begin." [Stray] In a desolate corner of Littourborg, a large open space lay dormant, cloaked in a thin layer of ice that shimmered faintly under the overcast sky. Once, this place had been a bustling marketplace, filled with the lively chatter of traders and the clinking of coins. But now, it was silent¡ªa graveyard of memories, haunted by a series of mysterious disappearances that had driven the townsfolk away. No one dared to set foot in a place so steeped in tragedy. No one, except for Claude. A solitary figure darted across the ice, his form a blur as he moved. Claude''s body twisted and turned, skidding over the frozen ground. But as quickly as he moved, it was clear he hadn''t mastered the art. His control wavered, and before he could adjust, his momentum carried him straight into the unforgiving stone wall at the edge of the square. Bang! The impact echoed through the deserted marketplace. Claude''s body crumpled against the wall, and he slid down to the icy floor, now utterly still. For a moment, only the cold wind whispered through the space. "That was not a pleasant experience," Claude groaned, his breath escaping in visible puffs as he lay sprawled on the ground. The pain radiated through his body, but he managed a weak smile. "At least... there''s some progress here..." he muttered between ragged breaths. Since arriving in Littourborg, Claude had pushed himself relentlessly, driven by the memory of his encounter with Ag''ourth. He couldn''t afford to be outmanoeuvred again. And, being a sitting duck wasn''t exactly the smartest way to win a battle. The plan seemed simple enough in theory: cover the ground in ice and use it to glide. He hoped that would be enough to throw off any opponent foolish enough to challenge him on his icy terrain. But... "Why is skating on ice so damn hard?" Claude muttered under his breath, frustration gnawing at him. He forced himself to sit up, his hands trembling slightly as he placed them on the ice. The surface was smooth, treacherous¡ªunforgiving of even the smallest mistake. Claude inhaled deeply, pushing aside the pain. His mind raced, recalling the countless attempts that had ended in failure, the times he had lost his balance, the crashes, and the bruises. He rose unsteadily to his feet, feeling the ice beneath him. It wasn''t just about speed. It was about rhythm, balance, and the subtle shifts in weight that allowed him to stay upright. Perhaps treating this instead as some strange form of dance would help him achieve his goal. Taking another deep breath, Claude steadied himself. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the ice in front of him. This time, he would not rely on brute force. He would move with the ice, not against it. He pushed off gently, letting his body lean into the motion. His feet glided over the ice, his muscles relaxed, and he soon found a rhythm¡ªa smooth, almost effortless motion that carried him forward. A grin spread across Claude''s face as he realised he was doing it. He swerved, making sharp turns, and though these movements were by no means perfect, they were a marked improvement from before. Claude let out a triumphant laugh, exhilarated by the breakthrough. The pain and frustration¡ªthey all melted away, replaced by a sense of accomplishment. Finally, he had done it. As he glided to a stop, Claude looked out over the desolate square, indulging in his silence. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. He knew, deep in his heart, that the next time he faced Ag''ourth¡ªor any other foe¡ªhe would never be so helpless. ----- ---------- ---------------- Leaving behind the desolate square that had served as his training ground, Claude began making his way toward the nearby pharmacy. "I hope I can replicate some of Agnes'' potions..." he mused aloud. "Even if the herbs here are different, with enough trial and error, it shouldn''t be impossible. I just need to find herbs that share the same properties as the ones Agnes used..." The reason he wanted to replicate the potions so badly, was due to a discovery he had made regarding them. Agne''s potions she used to help the soldiers recover from training, it wasn''t as simple as relieving them of physical fatigue. No. It was able to wash away mental fatigue. And that was all too invaluable to Claude. It meant he no longer had to simply rely on sleeping to recover his mental energy. His thoughts spiralled deeper, recalling the lessons Agnes had given him. She had been eager to share her knowledge, and Claude had soaked it up like a sponge, determined to make use of it. As Claude wandered through the cobblestone streets, lost in contemplation, something unusual caught his eye. Fwoosh! A small, shadowy figure darted across his periphery, disappearing into a nearby alley. "Was that a cat...?" Claude muttered, raising a brow. The figure had moved too quickly for him to get a good look, but there was something unsettling about its speed. Did cats always move like that? He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought, but the image lingered in his mind. He could''ve sworn the figure had been moving on two legs. The idea was absurd, yet his curiosity was piqued. Compelled by an inexplicable urge, Claude veered off the main street and ventured into the alleyway. The narrow passage was tight, the walls on either side tall and looming, closing in like the ribs of a great beast. The ground beneath his feet was uneven, the cobblestones cracked and worn with age. Puddles of murky water reflected the overcast sky above. As he moved further into the alley, his eyes flicked toward a dilapidated building to his left. It was an old tavern, its wooden sign hanging askew, creaking in the wind. And, etched in faint strokes, the name of the tavern could just barely be discerned. The Blue Heron. The windows were boarded up, and the door sagged on its hinges as if the slightest touch would send it crashing to the ground. ''Is that the abandoned tavern they were talking about back at the inn...?'' Claude''s gaze lingered on the building for a moment longer, recalling the conversation he had overheard. ''Seems normal enough,'' he thought, dismissing the building with a shrug. His attention was drawn back to the task at hand¡ªthe mysterious figure that had led him here. He pressed on, heading deeper into the alley, where the creature had vanished. The alley narrowed further until it came to an abrupt dead end. There, sitting with its back to him, was the figure from earlier. Claude squinted at the small, black shape. ''It really was a cat...?'' he thought, uncertainty gnawing at him. Meow! The cat''s cry echoed softly in the confined space, dispelling some of Claude''s doubts. The creature seemed harmless enough¡ªa stray, perhaps, wandering the alley in search of food. Its black fur was matted, and its tail flicked idly as it sat there, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Satisfied that he had been mistaken, Claude turned to leave, shaking his head at his own foolishness. ''Just a cat... I must be more tired and stressed than I thought.'' But as he prepared to head back to the pharmacy, a sudden thought clawed its way to the forefront of his mind, refusing to be ignored. ''Hold on¡ª'' Claude paused mid-step, his brow furrowing in confusion. Something wasn''t right. He turned back to the cat, then glanced up at the sky above, which was still pale with the light of day. Then he looked back down at the cat. ''No... I''m not seeing wrong. It''s daytime... But this cat...'' His heart skipped a beat as realisation dawned on him. ''It has no shadow...?!'' Claude''s breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto the creature. The sun was weak, but it still cast faint shadows across the alley¡ªexcept for where the cat sat. There was something deeply wrong with this creature¡ªsomething that belonged to no mortal realm. Sensing his scrutiny, the cat slowly turned its head, its movements unnervingly fluid. At first glance, the creature''s appearance was that of a normal black cat: sleek, with glossy fur that faintly gleamed. Its eyes were a striking shade of green, wide and unblinking. They were bright. Almost too bright. But then his gaze drifted lower, to the creature''s mouth. Its lips peeled back in a grotesque grin, revealing a gaping maw filled with jagged, misaligned teeth¡ªteeth that seemed far too large for the creature''s small head. The grin stretched unnaturally wide, as if the skin of its face was being pulled back by invisible strings, forming a mocking smile. Claude clenched his fists as he watched the cat''s maw stretched even further. The cat¡ªor whatever it was¡ªstared back at him, its eyes gleaming with an intelligence well beyond that of any normal animal. It was watching him. It was studying him. For a moment, neither of them moved. The alleyway was deathly silent, bar the slow, rhythmic beats of Claude''s heart. [Intrusion] Despite the stillness in the air, Claude''s mind churned like a storm-tossed sea. "Splendid! Simply, splendid! I came to this small coastal city in search of money and information, yet here I am... dealing with a demon cat," he fumed inwardly. The creature before him, which he''d described as a cat, radiated an all-too-familiar aura¡ªeerie, chaotic, inhumane. Claude had come to associate these traits closely with one place¡ªthe subspace. His thoughts were abruptly cut short as the creature lunged at him, its maw wide open, revealing rows of jagged teeth. Without hesitation, Claude summoned a whip of water, lashing it towards the oncoming threat. Crack! The whip struck true, sending the creature hurtling into a nearby wall, denting it. Yet, the creature wasn''t dead. Instead, a thick black mist poured out from its form, shrouding it. Claude''s eyes narrowed as he coated the ground around him in ice, preparing for whatever came next. The mist slowly dissipated, unveiling the creature''s true form. It stood hunched and predatory, its skeletal frame draped in taut, sinewy flesh. Its limbs ended in razor-sharp claws. The creature''s head was an unholy amalgamation of reptilian and skeletal features¡ªa broad, flat skull with empty eye sockets, and a snout lined with needle-like teeth. A ridge of jagged, bony protrusions ran down its spine, leading to a whip-like tail tipped with a barbed point. And, unlike most creatures, this one had only two legs instead of four, its lower body hugging the ground like a serpent. The creature moved with unnerving agility, its belly grazing the ground as it dashed toward Claude. But as it neared him, its clawed feet lost their grip on the icy surface Claude had previously created, sending it crashing into another wall. Shaking its elongated head to clear the disorientation, the creature barely had time to react before a spear of water pierced its skull. Squelch! Claude watched as the creature slumped to the ground, motionless. "Well, that was easier than I expected..." he muttered. Despite its terrifying appearance, the creature hadn''t posed as great a threat as he had feared. But just to be sure...Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He conjured another water spear and hurled it at the creature''s limp form. Suddenly, the creature jerked, attempting to dodge before collapsing once more, the spear lodged deep within it. Another wet, sickening squelch echoed in the narrow alley. "It was playing dead..." Claude muttered, his eyes narrowing. His probe was a habit born from experience in his time in another world. Far too often, he had witnessed animals feigning death in that treacherous amethyst forest. And far too often, he had been deceived it. ''I underestimated its intelligence,'' he thought. Unlike the brutish Bloodborne and those strange horse monsters, this creature had displayed cunning¡ª something he hadn''t ever associated with subspace creatures other than Ag''ourth. Still wary, Claude sent another water spear into the creature. This time, there was no movement, no response. "Finally, it''s over." He exhaled, shaking his head as he rushedto leave the alley, a whirl of questions spinning in his mind. What was something like that doing here? How did it get there? And, was this city truly as safe as Mr. Pierre had made it out to be? ----- ---------- ---------------- At the inn, Claude settled into a sturdy wooden chair at a long, worn table that had seen years of use. The dining hall was lit by flickering candles and a roaring hearth at the far end. The air was thick with the mingled scents of hearty stews, fresh bread, and roasted meats. Around him, patrons chattered animatedly, their voices a mix of raucous laughter, gossip, and the occasional heated debate. The clinking of mugs and the scraping of utensils against plates filled the room, adding to the jolly atmosphere. Claude unhurriedly ate his meal¡ªa simple dish of roasted duck, seasoned with rosemary and thyme, accompanied by a thick slice of crusty bread and a side of root vegetables. The duck''s crispy skin gave way to tender meat, and the bread soaked up the rich juices, making each bite a small comfort after what he had seen moments earlier. Yet, despite the comforting meal, Claude''s thoughts were far from the herbs he had just purchased at the pharmacy, which had cost him three silver coins. His mind kept circling back to the eerie creature he had confronted earlier. "Why was a subspace creature here in this city?" he mused, chewing slowly. "They shouldn''t be able to just cross over from the subspace whenever they feel like it... If they could, this world would be teeming with them." His thoughts drifted back to the horse-like monsters that had wreaked havoc years ago, costing him so much. The same logic should apply to them, shouldn''t it? What reason did they have to appear in the village? Why had they attacked? The only explanation that made any sense to him was the Subspace Network that now resided within him. If that connection was responsible for drawing those creatures into his world... Claude clenched his jaw, unsure how to feel. If that thing had caused him to lose those he cared about and had forced him onto this path... He reflexively shook his head, recoiling from the notion. The mere thought of it was unbearable. Since transporting him to that other world, the Subspace Network had fallen silent, unresponsive to his attempts at communication. Even if he wanted to confirm his suspicions, he couldn''t. Claude pushed the thoughts away, unwilling to dwell on them further. Pondering the past only stirred up feelings of nausea and helplessness, and he wasn''t sure what he might do if his fears were confirmed. Suddenly, the door of the inn burst open with a resounding bang, jolting Claude from his thoughts. The lively chatter in the room abruptly ceased as a group of men clad in chain mail strode in, their swords hanging at their sides. Each wearing a dark-blue garment emblazoned with the unmistakable crest of Littourborg¡ªa silver lighthouse standing tall against a stormy sea. [Disappearances] "Hey! Claire, you there?" A gruff voice broke through the din of the inn as the group of armed men stepped inside. Claire, who had been tending to a patron, quickly straightened herself and hurried over to the door. "Yes, yes, I''m here." Her voice trembled slightly as she noticed the man leading the group. He wasn''t a stranger to the inn, but his presence rarely signalled anything good. "Jacques? Why are you here...?" Jacques gave a curt nod. "We''re here on official business." Claire''s face paled a bit, and she instinctively gripped her apron. "But no need to worry, we''re just asking about someone." Claire''s posture softened, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. They weren''t here to arrest anyone or cause trouble¡ªat least, not yet. "Oh, I see. Well, go ahead, feel free to ask around," she said, gesturing toward the now-silent inn. With that, Jacques and his men fanned out through the inn, approaching the patrons, and asking questions in low voices. The atmosphere grew tenser, despite the hum of conversation continuing in the background. One of the guards approached Claude, who had been sitting quietly at a table. "Excuse me?" the guard asked. "Could I borrow a moment of your time?" Claude nodded, curiosity bubbling up inside him. He had been watching the guards since they entered, trying to piece together their purpose, but so far, nothing had stood out. "Thanks," the guard said, fishing into his coat. He pulled out a rolled-up parchment and unfurled it on the table. It was a poster, bearing the image of a middle-aged woman. The charcoal sketch captured her delicate features, her soft, wavy hair tied in a simple knot, and the thin lines around her eyes. "This is Mrs. Margaret," the guard continued, pointing at the image. "She''s a widow who lived on the eastern street, not far from the city square. We''ve received reports that she went missing a week ago. Have you seen her, or do you know anything that could help our investigation?" Unbeknownst to the guard, the painting caused a wave of shock to crash over Claude. ''Do I know her? Of course, I know her?! Isn''t she the one who...?'' Swallowing his surprise, he took a deep breath, steadying his voice. "Yes... I know her. She comes to the library often. In fact, she returned a book a few days ago." The guard raised an eyebrow, glancing at the image once more before meeting Claude''s gaze. "A few days ago, you say? That''s strange..." He shook his head as if clearing the confusion from his mind. "We''ll need to confirm this information, but this might be a lead." As the guard made a mental note, Jacques and the rest of the men gathered at the entrance, preparing to leave. Yet, before stepping out, Claude noticed something odd. Jacques had paused, his gaze fixed on someone at the far end of the inn. Claude subtly turned in his seat to see who it was. Jean. The innkeeper''s son stood by leaning on the rear wall, speaking quietly to his sister, Anne who could only gesture in response. Jacques and Jean locked eyes for a brief moment, exchanging a nod that was barely perceptible. Then, as quickly as it happened, Jacques turned away, leading his men out of the inn and back into the city streets. The inn slowly returned to its usual noise¡ªchatter, the clink of mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. But Claude sat still, his mind whirling. ''Mrs. Margaret... missing?'' He frowned, thinking back to the days before. ''But that doesn''t make sense. If she went missing a week ago... who returned that book?'' His thoughts quickly honed in on the most peculiar detail: the book. The Little Knight. That was the last book Mrs Margaret had borrowed, a children''s story with nothing overtly special about it. But now, with her disappearance, Claude couldn''t shake the feeling that it was connected. ''There were others who borrowed that book, too,'' Claude mused, his brow furrowing. ''If they''re missing as well...'' As if things weren''t strange enough, his mind returned to the brief exchange between Jacques and Jean. ''What was that about? Jacques barely knows Jean, and yet... that nod...?'' He leaned back, crossing his arms. ''And then there''s Jean himself...'' Claude glanced over at Jean, who was now busy cleaning up after some patrons. His eyes drifted to Anne, Jean''s younger sister, playing quietly in the corner. She was about seven years old, but that detail only deepened Claude''s suspicion.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ''Anne is seven... but from what I have heard, Mrs Claire''s husband died over a decade ago. I don''t remember hearing about her remarrying... so where did Anne come from?'' The pieces weren''t adding up. ''And why hasn''t Jean married yet? With his stable income and the inn to inherit, he should be considered a good match in the eyes of many families in the city.'' The more Claude thought about it, the more suspicious Jean and his family seemed. Too many things weren''t aligning, and now, with Mrs. Margaret''s disappearance, Claude felt like he was stumbling into something far bigger than a mere missing person''s case. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. ''For now, I''ll focus on the book. If the others who borrowed The Little Knight are also missing, then I''ll know something''s truly wrong.'' With that, Claude rose from his seat. Too many questions needed answers. And, if left ignored, he had a gut feeling he might end up ----- ---------- ---------------- The next day, Claude found himself back at the library. This time, instead of researching Elysium in his free time, he began flicking through the library records. His fingers traced the entries in the old leather-bound ledger, the ink slightly faded from years of handling. Library Borrowing Ledger Year 4681 - 28th April Francois D''Aubigny of Rue Saint-¨¦tienne borrowed The Little Knight. Deposit of 2 copper coins paid. Book returned in good condition. Year 4681 - 4th May Marie Chastain of Rue des Tisserands borrowed The Little Knight. Deposit of 2 copper coins paid. Book returned with minor water damage. Year 4681 - 13th May Margaret Duval of Rue des Lys borrowed The Little Knight. Deposit of 2 copper coins paid. Book returned. Claude''s eyes fixed on the last entry: Mrs. Margaret Duval. She had returned the book after her recorded disappearance. He twirled the feathered quill in his fingers, lost in his thoughts. Something wasn''t right. Pulling out a freshly printed newspaper from his bag, he unfolded it and glanced at the headline: Terror Strikes Littorbourg as Two More Vanish! Littorbourg faces yet another tragedy as two more citizens have disappeared under suspicious circumstances. The victims, Mr. Francois D''Aubigny, a respected historian, and Miss Marie Chastain, a talented tailor, have both been missing for over a fortnight. Sources confirm these mark the 12th and 13th disappearances this year, all of which remain unsolved. Citizens are now raising concerns about the city''s leadership, questioning when our governor will address the escalating crisis rather than indulge in his debauched gatherings. How many more lives must be lost before action is taken? Claude pursed his lips as he read their names. Francois. Marie. Both of them had borrowed The Little Knight. Both were now gone. He slumped back in his chair, the newspaper slipping from his fingers. So they''ve disappeared too¡­ That book truly does seem to be at the heart of this issue¡­ His mind spun. Why hadn''t the city guard investigated the library? He had given them all the information yesterday¡ªsurely, they should''ve sent someone by now. Claude had even prepared himself to be questioned, perhaps even suspected of involvement. But no one had come. The library was eerily empty. Not even Mr. Pierre, the head librarian, was around. Claude clenched his fists. Dammit! Why can''t these people just do their jobs? I don''t want to be dragged into this mess! But deep down, he knew there was no avoiding it now. He couldn''t just walk away. Not with the mounting evidence staring him in the face. And with the Voidspawn he had witnessed... Heavens knew what could happen. If he truly ignored what was happening here, for all he knew a tear in reality could open, allowing an armed crusade of whatever was in the depths of the subspace to cross over. I just hope I''m wrong. Maybe this has nothing to do with the subspace¡­ he thought wearily. Standing up, he wandered through the rows of shelves, his fingers brushing against the spines of books. Eventually, his hand stopped on a familiar title: The Little Knight. He pulled it from the shelf and sat down again, turning the brittle pages. The story was simple, an adventure following the journey of Tristan, a would-be knight, on his quest to defeat Morgana, an evil witch. There was nothing unusual about it. But as he reached the climax of the story¡ªTristan''s fateful duel with Morgana¡ªsomething caught his eye. A small piece of paper stuck between the pages. Tilting his head, Claude carefully pulled it free. It was a note. At first, the note seemed blank, yet as he moved his face closer to inspect it, faint symbols began to materialise on the sheet¡ªdark, twisting shapes were soon sprawled throughout the note. Then, without warning, a searing pain erupted in his head, like a hot spike driven through his skull. He gasped, dropping the book, his hand instinctively clutching the note tighter. His vision blurred, narrowing to a tunnel as the pain throbbed with each beat of his heart. Whispers slithered into his thoughts. Not from around him, but from deep within¡ªstained with venom. "Serve him..." "You are chosen..." "Give in, and the pain will cease..." The words were not his own, yet they wove through his mind like a poison, entwining themselves with his thoughts. Yet, it wasn''t over. The whispers only grew louder, echoing through his skull like the tolling of a bell. "Obey..." "He sees you..." "You belong to him..." Tears stung his eyes as he fought to stay upright. He could feel it. Something.. something was worming its way into his mind, trying to break him, trying to control him. "He will grant you strength..." "Do not resist..." "Submit, and be free..." Amidst the swirling chaos of his desperation, something clicked in Claude''s mind. With the last vestiges of his willpower, he plunged deep into the recesses of his mind. As his awareness connected with the familiar tether of his mental energy, he felt a surge of strength returning to his body. His limbs, once sluggish, now responded to him again. Gritting his teeth, Claude tore the note from his grasp and hurled it away. It fluttered to the ground, the eerie whispers fading as swiftly as they had come. The pain dulled, but a dark, cold, haze clouded his mind. Breathing hard, Claude clutched the shelf for support, his thoughts still clouded by what had just taken place. He stared at the note lying on the floor, seemingly harmless¡ªbut he knew now that it was anything but that. "What... have I gotten myself into...?" [Investigation] Clutching his head, Claude winced, struggling to recover from the sharp pain that assaulted his mind. His breath came in ragged bursts, his heart racing as if trying to escape the confines of his chest. ''What... what was that...?'' He hesitated, reluctant to glance at the page, even though it was now just a blank piece of parchment. Something about it¡ªthe whispers, those haunting whispers¡ªclung to his consciousness. They had felt so familiar. "...The subspace," he muttered under his breath. He had heard whispers like these before. Twice, in fact. Once when he encountered those ghosts¡ªor whatever they were¡ªand again when he approached that crimson rift. Both incidents unmistakably linked to the subspace. A pit formed in his stomach. He already knew the answer to the question that had been gnawing at him for days. Are these disappearances linked with the subspace? Absolutely. Gritting his teeth, Claude forced his gaze back to the page before reluctantly plucking it from the floor. But this time, he was prepared for what was to come. When the pain came, he gripped the edges of the desk tightly, grounding himself against the onslaught. A muffled grunt escaped his lips, but he refused to let go. Through the haze of agony, the words began to form in his mind, clear now, though filled with endless malice: "Controlling life and death. The finite and infinite. He is coming. Bearing all the plagues of the world, He is coming. Trapping this world with his dominance of time, He is coming. So come, mortal. Come join his embrace. Fall into the embrace of The Afflicter, The Eternal One." Claude''s heart raced as he ripped his eyes away from the cursed script. He blinked, forcing his mind to steady itself, while his thoughts churned with the weight of the message. The Afflicter. The Eternal One. Was this another god? Could this be connected to the writing he had found in that ancient temple? One of the... Old Ones? If so, everything was slowly beginning to make sense. The papers said that none of the people disappearing¡ªMr. Fran?ois, Miss Marie, and Mrs. Margaret¡ªhad shown signs of struggle. No broken doors could be seen, and their neighbours heard no screams. It was as if they had simply vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of resistance. Upon their investigations, the city guards had chalked it up to accidents. But now? Now Claude understood a terrible truth. This wasn''t just a coincidence or a mundane crime. Those words¡ªthey weren''t even a message. They were a method of manipulation, a way to break one''s will. After all, why was this thing hidden in a book like The Little Knight? A children''s story, of all things. Mrs. Margaret, a childless widow, had no reason to buy such a book. But now he understood. The script called to those with weaker wills, ensnaring their thoughts. The book was merely the vessel, an inconspicuous cover. After all, who would ever suspect something so sinister to lurk inside an innocent tale?Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Claude''s fists clenched. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. This was why none of the disappearances made sense¡ªwhy there were no signs of struggle. The victims had simply willingly followed the call of this so-called Afflicter. Yet another question sprung up. Why hadn''t the note been found earlier? The Little Knight had been in the city library for years. Had no one else stumbled upon this? Or had they, too, fallen victim to the whispers, vanishing without a trace? Claude considered telling Mr. Pierre, the old librarian. But he stopped himself. What good would it do to involve a normal man like Mr. Pierre in something so dangerous, so utterly beyond his understanding? The man had spent his life among books, managing the library, not unravelling the secrets of the subspace. Involving him might only end in tragedy. Claude carefully folded the page and placed it back into The Little Knight. His hands slightly trembling. Whatever force was behind these disappearances, whatever god the Afflicter was, he would find a way to stop it. One way or another, he would uncover the truth. He wouldn''t allow tragedy to strike such a peaceful little city if he had the power to prevent it. ----- ---------- ---------------- Strolling under the brilliance of the noon sun, Claude paced steadily down the cobblestone street. The warmth of the day and the gentle breeze did little to calm his growing unease. He was getting closer. His heart thudded dully in his chest. Stopping abruptly, Claude looked ahead. His gaze settled on a lonely little house tucked at the end of the lane. It was small, with stone walls worn by time and weather, its fa?ade coated in a faded cream colour that had long since lost its vibrance. Its high-pitched roof, lined with wooden beams darkened from age, gave the building an almost skeletal appearance. Narrow, arched windows sat like sunken eyes on either side of a wooden door that looked as though it hadn''t been opened in days¡ªif not weeks. Claude exhaled softly, a twinge of guilt flickered within him as he considered what he was about to do. Sneaking around felt underhanded, but he had little choice. Whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªhad taken Mrs Margaret was clearly dangerous, and her house could hold answers. Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, Claude extended his arm, palm upward. A thin whip of water soon condensed and flicking his wrist, he sent the water lashing upward. The whip latched onto a sturdy iron drainpipe attached to the house. With a swift pull, Claude hoisted himself off the ground and over the low fence surrounding the yard, landing lightly on his feet on the other side. The yard was overgrown, with wild grass and weeds sprouting in all directions. The small path leading to the front door was cracked and partially covered by creeping vines. Claude stepped cautiously to the door, pressing it open with a soft creak. The house welcomed him with an empty silence. The interior was as lifeless as the exterior suggested. The furniture was plain, wooden, and functional¡ªchairs with high backs, and a table with legs carved in a simplistic style. Sunlight filtered through the dust-coated windows, casting long, pale beams across the floor. His eyes were drawn to the plants. Pots of them were scattered around the room¡ªwhat should have been lively bursts of green. But every plant, without exception, had withered to blackened husks. Leaves curled inward as though poisoned, and brittle stems that would seemingly shatter under the faintest touch. ''Odd.'' Claude thought, frowning. He''d seen the same plants blooming in the neighbour''s windows. There was no reason for them to be dead. It wasn''t winter, and no disease was spreading among the crops. Even if Mrs Margaret had gone missing, there wasn''t enough time for these plants to end up like this. Everything here¡ªevery breath of air, every darkened corner¡ªfelt wrong. He moved carefully through the house, inspecting every nook and cranny. But there was nothing out of place, no sign of a struggle or any clue that someone had recently lived here. There were no papers, notes, or anything that might explain what had happened. The entire place felt as if it had been frozen in time, untouched for far too long. A thin layer of dust coated everything, except for the plants, whose decay looked almost deliberate. Claude felt a prickling sense of embarrassment creeping over him. Am I wasting my time? He had combed through the house and yet found nothing. What was he even hoping to discover? Still, there was one place left unchecked. With a sigh, he made his way to the bedroom. As soon as he opened the door, an uneasy chill ran through him. The bedroom was darker than the rest of the house, the curtains drawn tightly over the windows, letting in only slivers of light. A large bed sat against the far wall, its sheets rumpled and unmade, as though someone had left it in a hurry. But that wasn''t what caught his attention. His eyes were immediately drawn to the wall above the bed. Scrawled in dark red, broken letters, a message had been etched into the plaster. The writing was jagged, and uneven, as if done by a frantic, feverish hand. Claude squinted, straining to make out the barely legible words, as a cold dread crawled up his spine, its icy fingers tightening around his chest. "He shall ris... Plagues b...ring thi...s rot. Eter...nal su...ffering... His grasp in...escap...able... Kneel, mort...als, bef...ore his domi...nion..." [Discovery] Claude stood in silence¡ªit felt like the world had held its breath. The bloody writing on the wall twisted into erratic shapes, each stroke violent and manic. His eyes traced the words, but they offered him no solace. Only an overwhelming sense of dread. The sharp, metallic scent of blood clung to the air, reminding him that this was more than just a message¡ªit was a warning. And one he understood all too well. This is connected to the subspace. No question. Claude''s thoughts spiralled. This new information only sprouted further questions. ''It''s all but confirmed. Whatever is happening, has something to do with this unknown entity. This unknown God.'' ''But... what does a god want with these people?'' He wondered. The missing citizens¡ªMrs. Margaret, Mr. Francois, Miss Marie¡ªdetails about them which he had uncovered floated to his mind. One was a gentle woman mourning the death of her beloved, one a soon-to-be grandfather, and the other who had a brilliant life set before her. Claude clenched his fists, anger flaring for a brief moment. The city guard had failed to do anything meaningful. No lockdown. No investigations worth their salt. And now, seeing this blood-scrawled message, he was certain they had intentionally ignored this house. The walls were both stained and reeked of blood, something that would have been impossible to overlook for anyone with half a brain. They must be in on it. His frustration mounted as he spent a few more minutes scouring the room for any additional clues, but found nothing more than the message itself. Claude sighed heavily, feeling a knot of tension build in his shoulders. His final glance at the blood-streaked bedroom was filled with a complicated mix of disgust and determination. He couldn''t linger any longer. There were too many unknowns and too many questions. And somewhere in the middle of all this chaos, the missing people were still out there¡ªwaiting for help that might never come. And this conspiracy... ''It has to be stopped...'' Claude pondered as he made his way to the back of the house. As he reached the fence, the wind caressed his face, carrying with it faint voices. His instincts kicked in immediately. He crouched low, eyes darting toward the source of the sound. The voices were too far off to make out clearly, but something about them tugged at his gut. That voice... He crept to the side of the house, pressing himself against the wooden fence. Through a narrow gap in the slats, he caught sight of the same gang member he''d seen earlier on his first day in the city. But standing next to him was someone far more concerning: the city guard he''d spoken with at the inn. Claude''s eyes narrowed. ''Why would a city guard be speaking with a gang member?'' The conversation between the two was low, their voices muffled by the distance, but he managed to catch enough. "Still no one¡¯s gotten into the house, right? Can''t afford any curious types poking around in there." The gang member was adjusting his coat, glancing warily over his shoulder as he muttered. The guard scoffed. "Of course not. We''ve had eyes on it day and night. Even the few nosy neighbors who thought to peek have been... discouraged." His lips curled into a smirk.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "Good. Last thing we need is some idiot stumbling onto... you know." The gang member crossed his arms. "Public''s been quieter lately, though. Haven''t seen as many folks asking questions." The guard nodded, his chanmail jingling as he straightened up. "The noise is dying down. People lose interest quick enough when they think there¡¯s nothing to find. That, and we¡¯ve been¡­ managing the narrative." The gang member raised a brow. "Managing how?" "Remember those family members who started raising a ruckus?" The guard¡¯s chuckled softly. "The ones who stormed the city lord''s mansion demanding answers?" "Yeah. What about them?" "They¡¯ve been dealt with. Permanently." The gang member stifled a laugh, shaking his head. "Should¡¯ve figured. Surprised they lasted as long as they did. What about that little news outlet? The one that started printing about the disappearances? Thought they¡¯d be more of a problem." "They¡¯re no longer a concern," the guard said flatly. "We charged them with sedition. Claimed they were stirring unrest and working with the Grey Falcons." "Us? Really?" The gang member¡¯s grin widened. "How clever. Bet they¡¯re rotting in a cell somewhere now." The guard shrugged. "Rotting, swinging from the gallows, makes no difference to me. What matters is that no one¡¯s spreading rumors anymore. The public¡¯s calm, and that''s what they want." The gang member¡¯s eyes narrowed. "They? You mean the ones running all this? Never seen anyone higher up. Makes you wonder¡ªwhat do they want with those missing people?" The guard hesitated for a beat. "Doesn¡¯t matter. We just do our jobs, keep things clean, and get paid. Let them handle the rest." The gang member grunted. "Fair enough. As long as the coin keeps flowing, I¡¯m not asking questions." They began walking away, their voices fading into the din of the street. Watching their fading silhouettes Claude''s mind raced, putting the pieces together. The guard was involved¡ªmaybe more than just him. The city guard and the Grey Falcon Gang, working together. But for what purpose? Could it just be greed or power struggles. This had to tie back to the disappearances, to Mrs. Margaret, to the bloody writing in that house. He wanted to confront them, to demand answers right then and there. But he knew that would only put him at risk. He had too little information and no backup. A confrontation was an unnecessary risk. These two may not pose a risk to him, but, those behind the duo might. Claude didn''t hesitate. He vaulted over the fence as he had before, landing quietly on the other side, and started tailing them from a distance. He followed as they turned down a busy street, the market square bustling with the noise of merchants and customers. Claude cursed under his breath. The crowded space offered too many places to lose track of them. And then, just as he feared, they vanished into the throng of people. "Damn it," he muttered, his hands balling into fists. He scanned the crowd, eyes flicking from face to face, but it was useless. They were gone. Only the chatter of the crowded marketplace echoed in his ear whilst the dense sea of people flooded his vision. He stood there for a moment, battling the rising frustration that threatened to cloud his thoughts. He''d lost them, but not everything. Two new leads had emerged¡ªthe Grey Falcon Gang and the city guard. He knew now that this wasn''t just some disorganized series of events. There was a coordinated effort at play, something large enough to involve both criminal elements and the very forces sworn to protect the people. ''But what''s the connection?'' He wondered. ''How deep did this conspiracy go?'' Contemplating these discoveries, Claude made his way back to the inn. The sun was setting, and the city was beginning to settle into the quieter rhythms of the evening. His mind was still racing as he approached the inn''s entrance, trying to make sense of everything he had seen. As he neared the inn, he felt it again¡ªthat peculiar sensation, like a low hum vibrating in his ears. His body tensed, his instincts flaring. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note from the library. This time, though not assaulted with pain, Claude felt something else. Something was different about the note. It was warm. Claude''s heart skipped a beat. The parchment was now radiating warmth. He stared at it, bewildered, as the faint hum in his ears grew stronger. The note was reacting to something¡ªsomething inside the inn. Don''t tell me¡­ He shoved the note back into his pocket and glanced toward the inn, the once-familiar building now brimmed with uncertainty. Was it the inn itself? Or someone inside? He hadn''t considered before that the inn might hold more than just temporary shelter for some travellers. Claude gritted his teeth, as he crossed the threshold into the inn''s dimly lit interior. The faint murmur of conversation filled the room, but his mind was elsewhere. His eyes flicked around trying to find anything out of place, but it all seemed as it should be. It looked like a normal scene one could find in inns throughout the empire. The pieces were falling into place, but the puzzle remained incomplete. And whatever lay at the centre of it all¡­ may be closer than he had guessed. [Mad Dogs] "Tsk!" Claude clicked his tongue, fingers drumming impatiently on the arms of the worn chair. The dim light from the lantern in his inn room flickered as he stared at the air before him with hollow eyes. "Two weeks..." he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping into his voice. "Two weeks and I''ve found absolutely nothing." His eyes narrowed. "None of the inn''s visitors seem remotely suspicious." He shook his head, trying to banish the gnawing doubt that had begun to cloud his judgment. Despite the mysterious note''s reaction, his leads were paper-thin, almost non-existent. That cursed note all but proved that someone¡ªor something¡ªwithin the inn was tied to it. By extension, they had to be linked to the subspace disturbances and disappearances plaguing the city. Yet, every face he studied, every whisper he overheard, led him nowhere. It was like he was chasing smoke. "At least no one''s disappeared in the meantime¡­" he sighed, leaning back in the chair as his gaze wandered to the ceiling. "That''s something, I suppose." His time hadn''t been entirely wasted, though. Between his careful investigation of the inn''s guests and his discreet talks with the locals, he''d managed to learn a great deal more about the undercurrents of the city''s criminal world. "Grey Falcon Gang," he muttered, rolling the name over his tongue as if testing its weight. "Established seven years ago, close ties to the current Lord of the city... dominant force in the underground." It was a lead, at least. One that hadn''t brought him closer to solving the mystery of the note, but one that might uncover something else equally useful. "And¡­" Claude muttered, glancing at a grey cloak he had recently gone out and bought. "The Mad Dogs." ----- ---------- ---------------- The streets were bathed in moonlight, casting a silvery sheen over the abandoned alleys as Claude made his way through the shadows. The wind was biting, and he pulled his cloak tighter around him, his breath visible in the cold air. His destination? A crumbling part of the city, long forgotten by the authorities. Now overrun by the remnants of the Mad Dog Gang. Once the most feared force in the city''s underworld, the Mad Dogs had fallen from grace. Their leader had mysteriously passed away years ago, leaving the gang fractured and weak. The Grey Falcons, sensing blood in the water, had steadily begun to devour their resources, seizing control of territory that had once belonged to the Mad Dogs. Claude had learned of a skirmish tonight, a chance to observe the remnants of the Mad Dogs in action¡ªand more importantly, their leader. He arrived just as the battle erupted in the streets. From a distance, concealed atop a rooftop, Claude watched the scene unfold below. Two groups of men collided, their bodies crashing together in a tide of flesh and blood. Steel flashed under the moonlight, whilst a cacophony of shouts and screams reverberated in the alley. The smaller group, whom he assumed to be the Mad Dogs, fought with a vicious tenacity, and despite being fewer in number, they pressed the foes hard. In the chaos, Claude''s eyes were drawn to a figure standing at the forefront of the Mad Dogs'' forces¡ªa young man barely in his twenties, with a jagged scar running down his left eye. A name instantly floated to Claude''s mind as he saw the young man''s appearance. Thibault¡ªthe son of the former Mad Dog leader. Even from his vantage point, Claude could see the raw anger and resolve in the man''s every movement, each strike filled with bitterness and hate. The Mad Dogs had the upper hand, pushing the Grey Falcons back, but just as they were on the verge of crushing their enemies... Thibault signalled a retreat. Confusion rippled through his men, but they obeyed without question, scattering into the shadows as quickly as they had emerged.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Claude narrowed his eyes, a question lingering in his mind. Why retreat now? Afterall, they were at an advantage. Why not press their foes further? As the dust settled, Claude slipped from the rooftop and followed the Mad Dogs through the twisting backstreets. Keeping his distance, he trailed them silently until they arrived at the headquarters, a ruinous mess of buildings that haphazardly dotted the street. Thibault eventually broke off from the group, heading deeper into the building alone. ''Perfect,'' Claude thought, following from behind. As Thibault entered what appeared to be his office, Claude condensed an ice pick in his palm. With a flick of his wrist, the icy construct vanished, reappearing in front of Thibault. It hovered inches from the man''s neck, stopping him in his tracks. Thibault froze, his throat bobbing as an icy chill stabbed at his neck, rooting his feet in place. "Who¡ªwho are you?" Thibault''s voice was sharp with fear, though he tried to mask it. "Have you been sent by those Grey Falcon rats?! Come on, then! Kill me if you want. I don''t care!" He gritted his teeth, his eyes darting around the room. Low and hoarse, Claude''s voice rang out from behind him. "Don''t worry about that." The ice pick inching closer against Thibault''s skin. "I''m not with them. I just need you to tell me everything you know about the Grey Falcons." Thibault''s jaw clenched. "Why the hell should I tell you anything?" In response, Claude flicked his wrist, and several sharp and deadly ice spears materialized in front of Thibault, their tips glistening as they angled toward him. Thibault''s defiance cracked as a bead of sweat swimming down the side of his temple. "Damn it!" he hissed, his eyes darting around, searching for an escape. "You''re one of those freaks, aren''t you?" Claude remained silent. To him, this silence could stretch for an eternity. He was in no hurry. After all, it wasn''t his throat about to be slashed. Huff! Huff! Huff! The only sound that remained was Thibault''s breathing, short and uneven bursts breaking the silence. Yet, this silence endured even less time than the brawl Claude had just witnessed. Thibault spat on the ground, piercing the stillness in the air. "Fine. I don''t know why you''re against them, but I''ll talk." He took a deep breath, then spoke through gritted teeth. "The Grey Falcons¡­ they''ve got people with powers. Real monsters, though. Not like you¡ªworse. They don''t even look human anymore. That''s why I pulled my men back. We could have finished them off, but I didn''t want to expand the fight and attract those things'' attention." "Monsters?" Claude''s interest was piqued. "You''re sure?" "I saw them with my own eyes. Twisted and unsightly they were. Those plucked chickens have been using those monsters to keep other gangs in check, even to scare the city guards. They come in only when things get really ugly. It''s why no one''s touched the Falcons directly, no matter how much territory they''ve grabbed." Claude''s mind raced, piecing together the puzzle. These creatures could be linked to the subspace. They may even be a type of Voidspawn. If so, it was worse than he thought. He let a moment of silence hang between them, then spoke. "If you can deal with the Grey Falcons, I''ll help you with these monsters." Thibault''s eyes narrowed. "How do I know this isn''t some trick? You expect me to believe a freak like you is willing to help us out of the kindness of your heart?" "I''m not doing this for you." Claude''s voice was cold. "But those creatures? They''ll kill you eventually, and if I don''t stop them, this city will fall apart. You can play it safe and wait for your death, or we can eliminate the Falcons together. It''s your choice." Thibault stood there, tense, his fists clenched. He clearly didn''t trust Claude, and who could blame him? But the reality was unavoidable. If he did nothing, the Grey Falcons¡ªand whatever those monsters were¡ªwould swallow him whole. There was no way in hell they would just let bygones be bygones and ignore all their previous conflicts. After a long pause, Thibault''s shoulders sagged in reluctant acceptance. "Fine. I''ll do it. But don''t think for a second I trust you..." Claude stepped back, the ice spears melting into nothingness. "You don''t have to trust me. Just stay alive long enough to finish the job." Thibault turned around, seething in rage, but made no move as Claude left. Yet, his words, drenched in venom, reached Claude''s ears as he faded into the night. "Damn abomination¡­ just wait!" Claude didn''t respond. He didn''t need to. Thibault''s anger was irrelevant. All that mattered now was the fight ahead. The Falcons¡ªand their monsters¡ªwere the true threat. And Claude wasn''t about to let them have the upper hand. ----- ---------- ---------------- Claude returned to the inn under the cover of darkness, his thoughts focusing on the confrontation he''d had with Thibault. Yet, the tension that had coiled in his chest during the night''s events refused to unwind. He still did not know if what he was doing was right? Or, if he should even bother to take part in this farce. There was still too much at play¡ªtoo many unknowns, too many dangers. He had resisted the temptation to storm the Grey Falcons'' headquarters tonight. Thibault''s warnings of those twisted creatures, combined with his own lingering suspicions, had been enough to stay his hand. Caution, for now, was his ally. Charging in without understanding the full scope of their power would be suicide, and Claude wasn''t one to gamble recklessly. Not when the stakes were this high. As he slipped quietly into the dimly lit corridor of the inn, he still remained alert. Something was off. The faint creak of a door caught his attention, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted two figures moving furtively toward the back exit. Jean and Anne. The innkeeper''s very own son and daughter were sneaking away into the night. Claude''s eyebrows creased. What could they be up to at this hour? He''d been living under the same roof as them for weeks now, and though they both seemed a bit odd, he didn''t really plan on looking too deep into it. But... The note''s odd reaction clawed its way out of his memories, jumping onto his chain of thought. [Gang War] ''What in the world are those two doing so late at night...?'' Claude narrowed his eyes, as his thoughts turned to the odd reaction the note had earlier. ''I may have to look into what these two are doing here...'' The thought nestled at the back of his mind. After all, what if the answer had been in front of his eyes all this time? What if the cause of the note''s reaction wasn''t a patron in the inn¡­? ----- ---------- ---------------- Creak! "Thanks again, Claude." Claire''s voice was soft as she gently closed the door behind her. "No need for that. It''s not like I''m doing it for free." Claude chuckled, though the humour barely reached his eyes. His gaze flickered momentarily to the door behind them, mind already flitting back to his memory from a few days ago. Claire hesitated, her fingers brushing against her skirt nervously. "Can I ask how they''re doing?" she asked, her tone much more serious than before. "They''re both doing well. Jean has caught on very quickly. He can now read most simple sentences with ease." Claude paused, his own curiosity gnawing at him. "Regarding Anne..." His voice trailed off. "What? Is something wrong?" Worry immediately stained Claire''s voice. Her maternal instinct flaring at the slightest hint of trouble. "No, no. Her reading skills are essentially on par with Jean''s," Claude reassured her. "It''s just... unusual, that''s all. She''s still so young, but she''s picking up things incredibly fast, almost unnaturally fast." "Maybe she''s just gifted...?" Claire murmured absently, her gaze wandering. "Maybe..." Claude nodded slowly, but his mind was similarly elsewhere. He had noticed Claire flinch earlier, ever so slightly, at the mention of Anne. It reminded him of the time she''d stiffened in the presence of the city guard. Perhaps, it was more than just Anne''s muteness that troubled her. Claire had always been so hopeful about Anne finally being able to express herself, even if only through the written word. The girl had been mute for as long as anyone could remember, her silence a constant reminder of her ailment. Yet, Claire felt a sense of worry nibbling away at her thoughts. On the bright side, now Anne can communicate with others using a small notepad she carries with her everywhere. For the first time in who knew how many years, Claire had seen Anne smile. But... she knew better than to believe that smile would endure. Waving Claire off, Claude made his way back to his room, his mind drifting over everything he had uncovered in the past week. He couldn''t shake the feeling that something strange was afoot, especially when it came to Jean and Anne. They disappeared every few nights, only to reappear the next morning, offering vague explanations that never quite satisfied his curiosity whenever he inadvertently asked. ''There''s something weird going on with those two,'' he thought, unlocking his door and stepping inside. The moonlight filtered through the small window by his bedside, casting a soft glow over the space.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Tonight should be the night¡­ Claude pulled the grey cloak off his bed and draped it over his shoulders. The fabric whispered against his skin as he fastened it securely, a faint glimmer flickering in his eyes. His doubts regarding the pair could remain unsolved for now. He had more pressing matters to attend to. ----- ---------- ---------------- Clang! The sound of swords clashing echoed through the desolate streets of Littorbourg, where two groups stood locked in fierce combat. "Damn it, Thibault! Why are you attacking us?!" a thin man shouted, parrying an incoming blow with all the strength he could muster. He was the same man who had greeted Claude on his first day in the city, but now his face was twisted with fear and frustration. "Isn''t it enough that we''ve left you alive this long? Why do you insist on pushing us into a corner?" Thibault''s eyes blazed with fury as he swung his blade in rapid succession, merciless in his assault. "Oh please!" he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "Were rats like you not the ones who poisoned my father with your vile witchcraft? You think I''ll forget that?!" Each strike of his hits harder than the last. The thin man stumbled back, barely able to hold his own against Thibault''s relentless onslaught. One fuelled by a hatred seared into the very marrow of his bones. After all, his father had been everything to him. A figure of strength. A figure of wisdom. A figure he admired. But all of that had been ripped away from him, twisted and shattered by the cruel hands of some unknown devilish force. Thibault had spent years searching for answers, and now, he stood on the brink of revenge, consumed by his desire to right what he believed was an unforgivable wrong. Steel clanged against steel, the fight filling the empty streets in a grim symphony. Yet, before anyone could anticipate what was coming next, a deafening bang reverberated through the alley. A figure had plummeted down from the sky, landing with such force that the very ground beneath them split apart. The combatants froze, their attention now focused entirely on the monstrous thing that had appeared before them. It was hideous. Vaguely human in shape¡ªtwo arms, two legs, a head¡ªbut at the same time... it was anything but human. Its rotting, greyish skin hung in loose folds, as though the flesh itself was sloughing off the bones. Patches of flesh had peeled away to reveal sinew and bone beneath, and from every orifice¡ªits eyes, nose, mouth, and ears¡ªpus seeped in sickening streams, bubbling and oozing down its disfigured face. Its eyes, if they could be called eyes, were sunken deep into its skull, glowing faintly with an unnatural, milky-white hue. And, its mouth was twisted into a grotesque grin, yellowed teeth jutting out at odd angles, and as it exhaled, a thick, black vapour billowed from between its cracked lips. The monster let out a wet, guttural laugh, its voice a rasping, echo that reverberated inside the skulls of those who heard it. It took a lumbering step forward, and as it did, the ground beneath its feet seemed to wilt. It turned its gruesome head toward Thibault, its sunken eyes locking onto him with malicious glee. "Do you wish to join your father, boy?" it croaked, voice slurred by the constant dribble of filth from its mouth. "He''s waiting for you... in His embrace." "Shut it you freak!" Thibault screeched at the monster seemingly without fear, yet his eyes jutting about betrayed his truest thoughts. "Tell me, I''m curious. Why do this? You could have lived a little longer if you didn''t start this attack. Do you simply want to die of your own initiative?" The monster hummed. "Whatever, it''s not like that matters anymore." A gleeful smile stretched across its face. Thud! Thud! Thud! The sound of the inhuman thing lumbering toward the Mad Dog gang was all that Thibault could register in his mind. He could only hope that the freak that contacted him days prior wasn''t lying. And soon his prayers were met. Whoosh! A spear of ice pierced through the air before thrusting into the monster''s abdomen. "Oh?" Yet it seemed unfazed. "Who''s there?" Its head seemingly disjointed from its head spun around slowly, scanning its surroundings. Slowly it found a shadowy silhouette hiding away on a rooftop nearby. "Well, what do we have here? A Brother of Silence? No, they aren''t active in Francia¡­ A Priest of Nox? Also, no. Those hypocrites would never attack a Plague Bearer, they''re just a bunch of overly cautious fools¡­ " It muttered, yet its voice sounded in everyone''s ears. "So that leaves¡­ a mage?" A glint shone its eyes as a bloodthirsty grin crept onto his face. It leapt towards the figure it had just seen. When it lands on the rooftop, caving it in, it realises that no one is around. Looking behind him, he sees a figure leaping through the streets using a whip-like instrument to manoeuvre about. "Why bother running?" It groaned before chasing after the figure. [Plaza Brawl] In a familiar, quiet plaza, bathed in pale moonlight, Claude stood alone. His eyes remained fixed on the cobblestones beneath his feet. Staring. Lost in thought. Boom! The ground quaked beneath him as a monstrous figure slammed into the earth, its massive form sending jagged fissures spiralling outward like cracks in a broken mirror. Dust and loose gravel were thrown up into the air. The air grew thick with the nauseating stench of spoiled meat and stagnant water. From every orifice of the creature¡ªits sunken eyes, nose, mouth, and ears¡ªpus oozed in sickening streams, staining the stone streets beneath its feet. Claude stood, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the creature. His thoughts raced as he analysed the creature, its putrid stench, and its pale, milky-white eyes. A thick black vapour billowed from its mouth as it spoke, its voice gurgling. "You must be brave, mage," it sneered, its twisted grin revealing yellowed, jagged teeth. "Brave¡­ or foolish." Claude didn''t answer. He just waited. Patiently. The creature lunged, forming a blur of rotting sinew and bone despite its decaying appearance. Its claws slashed downward, aiming to cleave Claude in two. Yet, it wasn''t fast enough. With little hesitation, Claude condensed water around him. The liquid spun into a shimmering dome just as the monster''s claws connected, the impact sending ripples through the dome but not penetrating it. Claude''s eyes flicked to the creature''s limbs, watching as the mucous-like substance dripped onto the water''s surface, creating small hissing bubbles that sizzled and popped. He inhaled sharply, focusing. ''Acidic properties in its fluids. Direct contact with it would be... unfavourable.'' The creature''s sunken eyes gleamed with frustration as it smashed both clawed hands against the barrier, its rotten flesh quivering with the effort. Pus bubbled from its wounds, splattering against the shimmering water, but the dome stayed strong. Then, without warning, the dome exploded outward. Water shot in every direction, transforming into whips of liquid that lashed out, wrapping around the monster''s arms and legs, like a serpent. The liquid tightened, pulling the decaying creature to its knees. Snapping its head toward Claude, black vapour continued to spill from the monster''s gnarled mouth. "Impressive... but not enough." Before he could react, the creature''s muscles bulged, and with a loud crack, its limbs tore themselves free from the water bindings. Claude took a step back as the severed arms hit the ground with a sickening thud, oozing black sludge. Almost instantly, the rotting appendages began to bubble and writhe, splitting open. From the ooze, new figures emerged¡ªsmaller versions of the original creature, their bodies equally rotten, their skin peeling away in places to reveal sinew and bone beneath. They rose from the slime, their glowing white eyes fixated on Claude. Five. There were five of them now. A wave rose in Claude''s heart, though his expression remained calm. He had seen many ridiculous things over his years, but this was certainly a first.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The five newly formed creatures lunged at once, as they slashed at him with their clawed hands, black mucus trailing behind them. Claude reacted swiftly. The puddles of water from previous spells soon spread thin across the floor as they crystallised into ice. Using the ice beneath his feet to slide effortlessly out of reach, Claude avoided the closest creature''s claws by mere inches. Instantly, tendrils of water sprang to life, lashing out and wrapping around the closest creature''s legs. He yanked them back, sending it crashing to the ground. But the others kept coming. Claude ducked beneath a sweeping strike, narrowly avoiding a claw that sliced through the air where his head had been a moment before. He retaliated. With a flick of his wrist, a rotating disc of water appeared. It flew through the air, aimed directly at one of the creatures'' heads. Squelch! The disc cleaved through the decaying flesh, severing the head from its body. ''There!'' A bright light flashed in Claude''s eyes as he realised that the clones weren''t able to clone themselves. But what if...? An icy spike erupted from the ground, piercing through the feet of the monsters, rooting them in place for an instant. Without hesitation, he launched another disc¡ªthis time aimed directly at the original. Futilely, the creature tried to lumber out of the projectile''s way but wasn''t able to dodge it completely. Squelch! Thud! Another abhorrent grey limb dropped to the floor. And, within his expectations, the limb did not spawn another entity, much to Claude''s relief. Yet, it was unsurprising. ''If it was able to replicate infinitely, this thing would have already gone on to conquer the continent.'' Claude jested in his thoughts, but he knew the situation still wasn''t finished. He could feel his mental energy reserves dwindling¡ªthis fight had to end soon. Without wasting another moment, he slammed his foot into the ground, and a wave of ice surged upwards, catching the monsters off-guard. The monsters collapsed onto the icy ground like felled trees, before swiftly being encased in prisons of ice. The close were all completely frozen, their eyes still glowing beneath the ice. But the original monster remained partially free. It''s head unfrozen. Milky-white eyes locked onto Claude as he began to advance nearer. Claude approached the original, its head still free of ice. Surrounding the creature''s skull, he conjured spears of water that hovered around it, poised to strike. Yet, the monster''s eyes narrowed ignoring the threat hovering near it, instead studying the countenance of his approaching foe. "A mere boy?" it spat, the words laced with disdain. "This is who I''ve been fighting? Pathetic. Go on, finish me. Do you think this changes anything? Do you think you can stop Him?" But there was something else in the monster''s gaze¡ªsomething beyond its arrogance. A flicker of recognition. Its eyes, wild moments before, now seemed to widen in... shock? Claude ignored the creature''s odd reaction. He had questions. "How many of you are there in the Grey Falcon Gang? Where are you taking the missing people?" The creature grinned, teeth bared in defiance. "You think I''ll betray Him? You think your petty tricks scare me?" Claude''s expression darkened. A spear of water shot forward, piercing the creature''s left eye. A spray of grey pus burst from the wound, splattering the ice below. The monster howled but still refused to yield. "Do what you want," it rasped. "In a few weeks, we''ll succeed. Everything you love will burn and crumble. This city, this country, this damn world. We''ll-" Claude grimaced, realising that nothing more could be gleaned from this. With little hesitation, another spear sliced through the creature''s neck. Its head hit the ground with a dull thud, and the frozen clones began to melt away, dissolving into thick, grey puddles. The plaza fell silent once more, save for Claude''s soft panting. He stood amidst the carnage, his mind spinning with questions left unanswered. The creature''s final words echoed in his thoughts. Just a few more weeks... ''How much time do I have left?'' Claude''s breathing steadied. ''And, if I fail to stop whatever they are doing... what will happen?'' Claude did not know. And, that was all he needed to keep going. He could not play around with his life and leave it to the machinations of fate or the plans of some cultists. Yet his pondering stilled as he glanced down at the now-frozen and headless corpse. His vision blurred for a moment, narrowing as he took in the sight of the figure before him. It wasn''t a monster anymore. It was a person. Claude''s breathing quickened as his eyes flicked to the side, where that head had been moments prior. The breath caught in Claude''s throat. This... this was someone he knew. [Plans] Tap! Tap! Tap! The drumming of Claude''s finger against the rough wooden surface of his desk was the only sound breaking the heavy silence of the dead night. His room was dimly lit by the flickering glow of a single candle, casting writhing shadows across the clutter of papers and books surrounding him. His jaw tightened. "Damn it." His voice was low, barely more than a growl, as if speaking louder might cause his sanity to falter. "How could it be him?" His mind spun back to the moment. That frozen figure. That head. They unmistakably belonged to Mr. Pierre. But as Claude tried to move closer, the corpse had dissolved¡ªmelting away into a sickly puddle of black sludge, just like the clones he had faced before. He had stood there, unable to move, the icy air around him stinging his skin. Was it real? Or an illusion? If it was real¡­ was Mr. Pierre a part of this cult all along? Or had he been forced into it? A puppet, perhaps? Questions swirled in his mind, thick and relentless. Though Claude wasn''t close to the man, he nevertheless, was grateful. Grateful for the help he had given to him in this unfamiliar city. And now, that same man had been lying down as a corpse in place of that monster. The realisation made Claude''s stomach churn, a sickening twist of emotions he didn''t want to acknowledge. But there were more pressing matters at hand. The edges of his lips remained still, betraying none of his thoughts. He could mourn Mr. Pierre later. Or perhaps never at all. What did it matter, in the end? A dead man was just that¡ªdead. Claude had to keep moving, keep thinking. He had to. Yet, the final words of the monster¡ªno, of Mr. Pierre¡ªechoed in his mind like the tolling of a funeral bell. "Just a few more weeks, and we''ll succeed..." What in the world had he meant by that? Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, pieces of the puzzle clicked together in Claude''s mind. The possibility of sacrifices. Those twisted humanoid creatures. The presence of the subspace. It all felt familiar. Too familiar. It was almost a mirror of his experiences in that other world. "No way¡­" His breath caught in his throat, eyes widening in the dim light of his room. "Are they¡­ summoning something?" His thoughts raced. He couldn''t be sure. Maybe it was a coincidence¡ªmaybe his previous experience had nothing to do with what was happening now. But if it was true¡­ What were they trying to summon from the subspace? And why? In that other world, something had kept the subspace entities in check¡ªa glowing, golden figure he had only glimpsed at the edge of his vision before it vanished.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. He could only theorise that was what allowed him to enter that portal whilst stopping those from the other side from using it. A guardian of some sort. Perhaps even the remnant ghost of Solhart himself? But here? In this world? Claude had no idea if there was anything strong enough to keep those horrors at bay. Running a hand through his hair, he muttered. "Dammit! I''ll have to do this one step at a time..." ----- ---------- ---------------- In a dimly lit study, the faint scent of parchment and candle wax filled the air. The flicker of a dying flame illuminated a figure cloaked in grey, hunched over a desk cluttered with papers. Thibault entered the room with a hesitant knock, pushing the door open slowly, his footsteps uneven, his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes darted around the room half-expecting to find something lurking in the shadows. It wasn''t his first time here, but the suffocating atmosphere in this room was ever so unfamiliar. The reason? Thibaults eyes flicked to the cloaked figure by the desk. That damned monster. The resentment boiled beneath his calm exterior, anger swelling at himself for being subjugated to this role, forced to obey like a trained dog. "Sir." Thibault''s voice was carefully impassive as he offered the bundle of papers. "Thank you, Thibault." The cloaked figure didn''t look up. Thibault turned to leave, then hesitated, glancing back. He wanted to know something. No, he had to know. "Is something troubling you?" the cloaked figure asked, without moving. "W-when..."Thibault swallowed his Adam''s apple bobbing. "When will we strike against the Grey Falcons?" A stifling silence stretched between them following his words. "They''re vulnerable," he continued, animatedly gesturing with his hands. "You''ve taken down monsters before. Surely, you could handle this." A beat passed, and the figure''s head tilted slightly. "Thibault¡­" "Yes?" "Get out." Thibault almost couldn''t control his contorting facial expression upon hearing that. He mumbled something incoherent before fleeing from the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Finally, alone, the figure released a slow breath. He reached up, pulling back the hood to reveal Claude''s familiar face. He turned his attention back to the papers spread out before him, tapping his finger against the desk once more. Claude knew very well what Thibault was after. But Claude was not about to sacrifice his life to further the ambitions of some low-life thug. Shaking his head, he focused on the topic at hand and sorted through the papers. Through the Mad Dogs, he had confirmed that Mr. Pierre had not been seen in this last week, not at home, not even attending meetings of his little intellectual circle. Claude could all but confirm that the creature was indeed formerly human, moreso, formerly Mr. Pierre. Since Mr. Pierre''s death, the city has turned a blind eye. No investigations. No questions. The library had been shut down as though none of it mattered. As though Mr. Pierre''s existence had been wiped from the city''s memory. Claude was jobless now, but not idle. If anything, the chaos had given him more freedom. More time to pursue the truths buried beneath the city''s surface. He had aligned himself with the Mad Dogs, or rather subordinated them¡ª their recent victory had given them some control of the city''s underworld, allowing him access to intelligence he could never have obtained before. Most of his time now was spent sifting through documents. Reports. Snippets of information. All pieces of a much larger puzzle. The Grey Falcons had not sent anyone to interfere with the Mad Dogs'' newfound control. Understandable, considering what had happened to the last poor soul they''d sent to meddle in the Dogs'' affairs. Claude smirked. And then there was Mr. Pierre. Thibault had managed to unearth a crucial detail. It was regarding the circle of friends Mr. Pierre had. More specifically, the intellectual circle he had been part of. Order of the Timeless. A group that met up regularly every Saturday evening to discuss ideas relating to and around mortality. More specifically, the order believed mortal decay to be an unholy process. As it was where one''s body and soul would return to the grasp of nature, avoiding the grasp of the heavens. Yet, as peculiar as that was, it was the members that were of Claude''s concern. Mr. Pierre. Jacques, the city guard captain. Bertrand, a tavern owner. Benolt, the city governor. And, many more. Their numbers have only been increasing in recent years, their current numbers clawing towards the one-hundred mark. A smirk crept onto Claude''s face. These clues have given him a direction, a clear path on where to look. Just a bit more. As long as he uncovers whatever is happening, he will be able to prevent anything drastic from happening, leave the city in one piece and carry on his search for Elysium. Just a little bit more... [Ritual] Once again draped in his trusty, grey cloak, Claude walked through the silent streets of Littorbourg. It was leaving behind nothing but empty buildings and deserted alleyways. "It really is empty..." he muttered, his voice low as his eyes darted across the darkened windows and shuttered doors. He glanced down at his cloak and sighed in frustration. "I''m supposed to be a mage," he grumbled, tugging at the cloak. "So why am I always sneaking around like a thief in the night?" But deep down, he knew exactly why. "Damn cultists," he spat under his breath, his fists clenching instinctively. "Why can''t they live like normal people? Now we''ve got disappearances, deaths, and... a possible subspace summoning." His voice dropped to a whisper, "At this rate, I wouldn''t be surprised if I woke up in the middle of a war against a horde of demonic creatures." His cynical musing was abruptly cut short by a soft, faint glow from his satchel. He paused, a flicker of confusion spinning in his mind as he pulled out the source of the light¡ªa note. More specifically, it was the note that he had found in the library, inside The Little Knight. The parchment was old, the edges frayed and worn, but the letters that began to crawl across its surface were as dark as ever, twisting unnervingly into words: HE IS WATCHING. Claude barely had time to process the words before the note disintegrated in his hands, crumbling to ash that was quickly carried away by the cold sea breeze. His hand remained frozen midair, the sensation of the ash lingering on his skin. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips, his left eye twitching. "That... that''s not an omen, right?" His eyelid twitched as he glanced around, paranoia gnawing at him. Was something truly watching? Was someone... keeping track of him? He shook his head forcefully, trying to dispel the creeping unease, but it clung to him like a second skin. A quick glance at his surroundings, caused his senses to flare. An alley. Claude had found himself in an alley, but this alley was all too familiar to him. This was the very place where he had fought that strange, cat-like creature just days before. "Odd," he murmured, the silence unsettling him further. He ran a hand through his hair, lost in thought. "Where was Jacques meeting again? Oh, right... The Blue Heron Tavern." He rubbed his chin. "Isn''t that place abandoned?" His thoughts raced as he turned down a narrow alley that led toward the decrepit tavern. It loomed ahead, its wooden structure barely holding together under the weight of neglect and age. Just as he was about to approach the tavern, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Two figures, cloaked in shadow, slipped inside the tavern''s side entrance. "Jean and Anne?" he whispered, his pulse quickening. His eyes narrowed as he watched them disappear into the darkened building. What are they doing here? It didn''t unsettle him, though¡ªif anything, their presence confirmed his suspicions. Whatever plot Jacques was involved in, Jean and Anne were in on it too. This could be his chance to kill two birds with one stone¡ªto uncover the connection between them and the city guard, and finally expose Jacques. Quietly, he moved forward, his footsteps barely audible as he approached the entrance. His heart raced with anticipation. This was it¡ªthe moment he had been waiting for. All the clues, all his suspicions, had led to this. Claude paused briefly at the door, taking a deep breath. His journey to Elysium could wait. First, he had to deal with this. He had to find out the truth. "All''s well that ends well... right?" he whispered to himself, more for reassurance than anything else, as he slipped inside. ----- ---------- ---------------- In a dark, musty room, an altar stood at its centre, illuminated only by the flickering glow of candlelight. Scattered around it lay several collapsed bodies, their twisted forms contorted in unnatural angles, as though drained of life. At the edge of the chamber, more figures stood cloaked in shadow. Some leaned against the damp, cracked walls, their faces obscured by hoods, while others paced with impatience. The air was thick with dread, and soft murmurs filled the silence as they waited. Creak! The door creaked open, pulling all eyes toward the entrance. Two figures entered, their arrival halting the pacing figures and stilling the murmurs. A young adolescent boy and a little girl stepped into the room.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. "Tsk!" One of the figures leaning against the wall clicked their tongue in irritation. "Took you long enough to get here. What''s up with the delay, boy? You regret your decision?" "Shut it, Jacques," the boy replied, his tone flat. "You know we''re both too far gone to regret anything now." He cast a brief glance at the girl beside him. "And it''s not like Anne can wait any longer." "Come on, Jacques, no need to stir up trouble," came a voice from one of the pacing figures¡ªan old man with a weathered face. "Look," the old man continued, "Sentinel Hughes has been sent by headquarters. He''s here to make sure nothing goes wrong this time." The mention of the Sentinel caused Jacques and Jean, who had remained near the entrance, to exchange tense glances. Sentinels¡ªindividuals blessed by Him, tasked with enforcing the Plague Bearers'' will. Known for their bloodlust, they were feared even among the cult''s ranks. The room fell into a deep, uncomfortable silence as they peeked at the Sentinel, a figure standing at the far end of the chamber. He stood tall and gaunt, wrapped in ragged, blood-stained robes and patchwork armour. His skeletal frame was shrouded in a foul, black miasma, clinging to him like a living shadow. The presence of the sentinel alone was enough to cow the others into silence. The old man cleared his throat, breaking the stillness. "The Lord Sentinel isn''t much for words. We just need to perform the ritual. Let him observe." One by one, the figures in the room nodded reluctantly. Their hesitation was palpable, yet none dared oppose the order. As preparations began, Jean spoke up. "Before we start¡­ has anyone seen Pierre? Do we need to wait?" The old man scoffed. "Haven''t you heard? Wonderboy Jacques over there sent Pierre to settle a gang dispute. The fella''s been missing since." Jacques snorted in response. "He''s not missing. We investigated. He fought a mage¡ªa strong one." Jean''s brow furrowed. "The Inquisitors from Elysium? So, they''re already here? Seems like starting the ritual early was the right call." Just as Jean was about to announce the beginning of the ritual, a small hand tugged at his shirt. Jean glanced down to see Anne, her green eyes wide and shimmering. In her hand, she held a notepad. She scribbled quickly, her hand shaking as she wrote: You don''t need to do this... I don''t need this... The messy, childlike handwriting made Jean pause. His grip on her shoulder tightened as he suppressed a grimace. "Anne¡­ you know very well without this, your illness would end you." His voice cracked slightly as memories of the past flooded back. His twin sister, once pale and frail, lay bedridden, waiting for death. Desperate, he had sought any means to save her, and that desperation had led him here¡ªto the Plague Bearers. "If it wasn''t for that ritual I performed, you wouldn''t be alive," Jean whispered harshly. "It froze both you and your age for nearly a decade, but its effects are fading. We don''t have time." His voice broke as he continued. "We''ve already wasted a year. Stop being disobedient... This ritual is different. With His grace, you could be healed¡ªcompletely. You know how much your death would affect our mother¡­ and me¡­" Anne''s gaze fell, her hand loosening from his shirt as she resigned herself to his words, her silence more sorrowful than any scream. She stood by his side, her spirit seemingly drained. Just as Jean prepared to start the ritual, the Sentinel''s voice cut through the heavy air. "Have you ensured the effects of previous rituals have been eliminated?" Jacques pushed off the wall, intrigued. "What do you mean?" "Headquarters believes past failures were due to lingering interference from previous rituals," the Sentinel explained. "The effects radiated outward, corrupting the environment, both flora and fauna." "Wait. Those monstrous animals wreaking havoc nearby..." Bertrand, the old man, looked around incredulously. "They weren''t planned by any of you?" The figures around the room shook their heads in dismay. "Curse it!" Bertrand growled. "If we''d known these rituals would cause problems like that, we could''ve prepared better! Maybe we wouldn''t have attracted the attention of those knowledge-seeking freaks!" Jean narrowed his eyes. "The Inquisition has been culling the anomalies, but there''s no guarantee they''ve gotten them all. Still, no one here has performed a ritual in over a year." After a pause, the Sentinel nodded. "If it''s been that long, and no major lingering effects remain, then we can proceed." As the cultists gathered, circling the altar, Jean''s voice echoed through the room as he began to chant. The other figures joined him, their voices a haunting chorus as they encircled the glowing altar. The altar''s light intensified, casting eerie shadows on the walls as anticipation filled the air. Bertrand''s face twisted with hope, his thoughts desperate: Please! Please come back to me, dear... Jacques, on the other hand, watched the light with barely contained fervour: Yes, yes. Once He comes, I''ll gain His favour! Power, wealth, and fame... They''ll all be mine! Jean''s expression was more complicated, a mix of fear, hope, and despair swirling in his eyes. Perhaps¡­ perhaps this time, she''ll be healed... Outside the circle, the Sentinel remained cold and indifferent, his eyes scanning the participants. Anne stood by his side, her small frame trembling as she watched the tendrils of white light snaking toward the bodies on the altar. There was no joy in her eyes¡ªonly a quiet, resigned mourning. Suddenly, just as the ritual reached its peak, spears of water shot through the room, impaling several of the participants. Screams of shock and pain filled the chamber as the ritual was violently interrupted. "Who dares?!" The Sentinel''s voice thundered, whipping around to face the entrance. Claude stood in the doorway, his maroon hair dishevelled, his eyes bulging and bloodshot. He scanned the room, taking in the bewildered cultists, the twisted bodies near the altar. A shadow passed over his face as he looked upon the scene¡ªa shadow darker than mere anger. "All this time¡­" he muttered, his voice barely audible. His gaze fixed on Jacques, his eyes narrowed. "I told myself it was an accident." He took a step forward, fists clenched. "You don''t know how many years I''ve spent believing that lie. Telling myself that no one was to blame¡ªthat it was just some cruel twist of fate. But you¡­" His voice shook. "You''re the ones who caused it." For a moment, his face remained placid, his memory trailing to his past. The village. The meadows. The people. Then, his expression hardened, replaced by an icy rage. All of it was gone... "All of you rats¡­ hiding here in the dark, scheming and taking lives." He took a deep breath in. "Did you think you could keep hiding? That no one would ever know?" The room fell silent, the cultists staring at him, unnerved. Claude''s shoulders tensed as he let out a short, humourless laugh. "Emotions? I thought I had long lost them. All that was left... an empty void in my chest¡­" His gaze flicked to the twisted bodies strewn around the altar. "Now I see I was wrong..." He raised his hand skyward. "Come be my sacrifices!" He spat. "Fuel my apotheosis." The mental energy that resided in his mind, normally serene and gentle, began to writhe and bubble. "You will help me release the chains of humanity that bind me!" [Hysteria] "Teacher¡­?" A confused voice called out. Jean, standing at the other end of the room, stared wide-eyed at the intruder. "Boy! You know who this is?!" The sentinel''s voice was a harsh bark, his attention snapping to Jean. "He-He is our¡ª" Jean''s mumbling response was cut short as dozens of water spears materialized out of thin air and hurtled toward him with deadly precision. "Curse it!" Jean cried out, pulling Anne behind him, shielding her from the attack. As the water spears barreled forward, everyone other then Anne began to morph. Their bodies twisted and contorted, grotesque transformations overtaking them until they stood as towering grey giants. Their pulsating grey skin, the sickly smell of noxious breath¡ªClaude recognized them all too well. These¡­ things. These monsters! Jean, too, had become one of them. The barrage of spears struck the giants, piercing their flesh, but their twisted forms healed quickly, the water leaving only superficial wounds. Worse, they began to replicate, creating more of the hideous creatures. But Claude? He paid no heed. His eyes gleamed with a manic light as the puddles of water formed by his attack scattered and thickened into a dense, enveloping mist. "I wish you all a wonderful journey¡­" Claude spoke, his tone impassive, nevertheless, his eyes dripped with malice. "To hell." Hiss! The mist began to bubble and boil, the room filling with an unbearable heat. Screams of agony pierced the air, violent and guttural, like animals caught in a snare. They wailed and howled, their cries rising in pitch until they broke into rasping coughs, their lungs were blistering from within. The sound of claws scraping desperately against stone followed¡ªpanicked thrashing in a vain attempt to escape the searing pain. Guttural cries. Wet, raspy breaths. The gurgle of choking lungs. Claude''s lips curled into a grin as he watched. He knew from experience that these creatures'' internal organs were not resistant to extreme temperatures. Their twisted exteriors may heal, but their insides, would not. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow, but Claude didn''t care. There was nothing left to care about. No satisfaction, no pleasure. Where was the victory? Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Where was the sweet release of revenge? All he found was emptiness, a vast and hollow void, stretching endlessly within him. The mist dissipated. Where there had once been looming giants, only distorted, crimson-streaked corpses remained. Their skin had bubbled and burst, flesh atrophied and sloughing off like melted wax. Faces twisted into grotesque masks of agony, mouths open in silent screams. Eyes, now milky and lifeless, stared into the void, their features unrecognizable, as if melted by the heat. Except for one. In the centre of the room stood a single grey figure, swaying, barely able to hold itself upright. The tattered remains of clothes fused with its burnt flesh gave away its identity. Jean. His body quivered, trembling from the effort it took just to stand, but still, he held something in his arms. His last, desperate act of defiance. As he collapsed, a small bundle tumbled from his grasp. Claude froze, his breath catching in his throat. It was Anne. The little girl, somehow alive, crawled toward her brother''s fallen form, her wide, terrified eyes locked onto his still body. "No¡­ no, no, no¡­" Her voice cracked as she shook him, tiny hands clinging to his burnt skin. "Jean, please¡­ get up." Claude took a step forward, his heart a conflicted knot. "Step away," he commanded, his voice hollow. Anne didn''t move. She was trembling, but even so, she clung to Jean, her head shaking furiously. Her gesture grew firmer as Claude approached, more defiant. Mia¡­ The name drifted to the surface of his mind, unbidden. He saw her again. A seven-year-old girl with big, curious eyes, tugging at his sleeve, begging him to teach her something new. She used to follow him everywhere, laughing, full of life. Claude clenched his fists, shaking away the memory. Mia was dead, and so was any trace of the quiet village life he had once cherished. That life was over. Without another word, Claude summoned a hand of water and flung Anne away, sending her small frame skidding across the floor like a discarded doll. Now, nothing stood between him and Jean. "So, this was it¡­" Claude muttered, his voice low, detached. "Things like that¡­ they don''t just appear out of nowhere." His thoughts spun, a mix of anger and clarity. The horse-like monsters¡­ Jean and people like him had invited it all, for what? To satisfy their own desires? So what if Jean had done it all to save his sister? Why did that matter to him? Claude''s heart was cold, his mind colder still. Why should he suffer for someone else''s mistakes? For their sins? All he had ever wanted was a simple life. A small, peaceful existence surrounded by friends and family. But that was gone now, a dream as distant as the stars. Water pooled around Claude''s hand, swirling into a sharp, shimmering blade. With a simple thrust, he plunged the blade toward Jean''s motionless body. Squelch! But it didn''t just pierce Jean. A tiny figure, standing between them, had taken the hit. Claude stared down, his heart stopping for a brief second. Anne¡­ She had thrown herself in front of her brother. The room fell into a suffocating silence. Claude''s hand trembled. He stared at the impaled child, her eyes wide with shock, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. She fell, collapsing in a crumpled heap next to Jean, her small body limp and lifeless. The void within Claude grew, swallowing him whole. This should have meant something. He should have felt something¡ªsorrow, guilt, regret. Anything. But there was nothing. Just an endless, hollow emptiness. Whizz! The sound of steel slicing through the air broke the stillness. Claude barely reacted as a blade came swinging toward him, but with a flick of his wrist, a disc of water formed, deflecting the attack with ease. "Really?" His voice was calm, unnervingly so. Whilst his mind was slow to react, his body was not, it turned to face the assailant. "You think I wouldn''t notice the absence of your corpse? Right¡­ sentinel?" [Sentinel] The Sentinel, still disturbingly human, was the only one left untransformed amidst the chaos. His raven-black hair framed a face etched with hatred, his black eyes empty of pupils and teeming with rage. His lips parted as if tasting something sour. "Mage." Claude''s gaze remained indifferent, barely flickering with interest. Before he could fully register the threat, the Sentinel''s legs bulged as he launched himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the crushing force of Claude''s water-formed fist that hammered into the ground, cracking stone with each brutal impact. Claude''s face stayed impassive as he redirected the watery hand, sending it crashing down again and again. The Sentinel dodged each strike, moving in blurs of desperate speed. Then, with a snarl, he spat out a toxic green ball of sludge that sizzled as it flew. Claude raised a thin disc of water to block, but the fumes seeped through, choking his lungs. Nausea coiled within him, and a faint, corrosive burn began to spread in his chest. Yet even as the toxin twisted his insides, Claude kept attacking, striking blow after relentless blow. Each impact made the chamber shudder, leaving nothing in his mind but the need to destroy, or be destroyed. Smash! Crash! Bang! The Sentinel staggered, and this time, Claude''s water fist caught him mid-leap, slamming him down, his body twisted into a broken pulp. But Claude''s expression remained impassive; he stared down with a detached gaze as the Sentinel''s mangled flesh writhed and pulled itself back together, knitting broken pieces back together. "Damn blasphemer!" the Sentinel hissed. "I''d have crushed you if I''d had just a bit more power." His eyes grew wild, his laughter shrill and edged with hysteria. "But so what? I''ll still make sure you don''t walk out alive!" A crack split down his chest, stretching vertically, as a twisted, inhuman form began to tear its way out, shedding the body like a cocoon. Claude took a step forward, intending to strike, but he was too slow... or perhaps just indifferent.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "You''re about to learn why your kind fears us, you damn rat!" The Sentinel''s voice was twisted and monstrous now, his form elongating as twisted, clawed limbs pushed free. What emerged was a writhing shadow layered in sinew and rotting flesh, its surface seeping acidic black fluid. Viscous tendrils thrashed from its sides, each dripping a foul, bubbling slime. Its head was an indistinct, fractured mass, only its eyes clear¡ªtwo orbs of hate, glowing like coal. Then, it screamed. The sound that worming its way into Claude''s mind, muffling his thoughts, pressing in like a dark fog. He barely blinked as the creature barreled toward him, and before he could react, it slammed into him with impossible force, crushing him against the stone wall. Pain seared through him, bones shattering, but his face remained calm, even as blood pooled in his mouth. "This seems familiar¡­" he muttered to himself, almost amused. Indifferent to his own suffering. His vision blurred, and his spine felt as if it was ground to dust. Yet the thought of death? It was distant, a vague whisper that neither intrigued nor disturbed him. The creature struck again, its twisted arm thrust forward, impaling him through the chest, lifting him off the ground as though he were nothing. Claude''s head tilted back, his mouth filling with blood, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips. "So¡­ this is it, then¡­ death¡­" With a shuddering exhale, his fingers closed around the creature''s arm, his grip like steel despite his weakening body. Ignoring the agony in his lungs, he summoned his last reserves of energy. The nearby puddles quivered, then rose, spiralling into razor-sharp tendrils of water that latched onto the monster. They twisted and slashed, ripping through its black flesh in silence. The creature let out a final, guttural shriek before dissolving into a pool of acidic sludge that splattered onto Claude, burning his skin with every searing drop. He didn''t flinch, even as his flesh bubbled under the ichor''s touch. He slid down the wall, panting, his eyes glazing over as he stared into the wreckage around him. Debris and fragments lay scattered across the room. Gouges in the walls, fractures spidering through the stone floor, remnants of corpses tossed aside like broken dolls. The rank smell of scorched stone and sulfur hung thick in the air. Then he noticed something¡­ strange. There was no blood. No grey sludge from the cultists'' strange transformations, no black blood from the monster the Sentinel had released, not even a vivid, seeping crimson. The thought barely flickered in his mind, dimly nagging as his vision wavered. "Who...?" His words drifted into silence as the cacophony of shouts beyond the room broke through his reverie. But he felt no spark of curiosity, no fight. His vision grew dim, and his body slumped as though even the act of breathing was too heavy a burden to bear. In that final moment, he welcomed the darkness that folded around him. He knew he was about to escape from the prison he called reality. [Eternity (Vol.1 End)] The door burst open, and a tide of shadows poured into the chamber, their footsteps heavy against the cold stone floor. At the head of the group stood Thibault, scarred and grinning, his eyes sweeping over the room. His laughter, sudden and wild, shattered the silence, reverberating off the walls like a maddened echo. "Haha!" The laugh was jagged, unhinged. His gaze darted from one face to another, taking in the sight of the bodies strewn across the floor, some dead, some clinging to life. Then his eyes fell upon the corner¡ªupon Claude. Thibault''s grin widened, his scar twisting grotesquely on his face as he advanced. "Finally..." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The madness that had been bubbling beneath the surface burst forth, and he raised his voice in a triumphant shout. "Finally!" The word rang out, filled with cruel satisfaction. "You''re all dead!" He moved toward Claude, who lay slumped against the wall, his body limp, eyes closed and dead silent. To anyone else, he was a broken figure, a victim like all the others, but Thibault knew better. He had seen first-hand the consequences of the boy''s power. ¡®That plaza¡­¡¯ He thought to himself, clawing through his memories until he found what he was searching for. It was a plaza. Jagged scars remained ethched onto the ground, ice coating the area like a thing blanket and ruptures in nearby walls. Carnage. That was all Thibault could think to describe it. Yet here, the culprit of that destruction lay helpless, weak and at his mercy. Thibault''s glee slowly turned to something darker. He crouched beside Claude, his sneer widening as he reached out with a boot to nudge the motionless body. "Look at you now," he hissed, his voice low, filled with mockery. "I told you it would end like this." He spat the words, each syllable dripping with disdain. Thibault''s mocking gaze swept over Claude''s limp form, and a cruel smile curled his lips. He delivered a sharp kick to Claude''s side. "Where''s that sharp mind now? Where''s that witchcraft you were so proud of?" The blows came harder, his fist slamming into Claude''s face, but still no response. Claude''s head lolled to the side, blood trickling from his lip, but his body remained lifeless, just as Thibault had hoped. Thibault''s laughter returned, low and bitter, as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against Claude''s bruised face. "Nothing but a sack of meat and heap of bones," Thibault growled. He grabbed a fistful of Claude''s hair, yanking his head up to meet his gaze. "You''re pathetic." He let go with a rough shove, watching Claude''s head slump back, satisfied with his display of dominance. But just as Thibault turned to stand, a glimmer of movement caught his eye. A twitch¡ªbarely perceptible¡ªfrom Claude''s fingers. Before Thibault could react, Claude''s eyes snapped open, sharp and cold. There was no fear there, no pain¡ªonly focus. In an instant, a single droplet of water, no larger than a pebble, formed in the air and shot forward with a force that defied its size. It pierced Thibault''s skull with a sickening crack, the water embedding itself deep, shattering bone and brain alike. Thibault''s eyes widened in shock, his body seizing before collapsing beside Claude with a dull thud, blood pooling beneath his broken skull. The room fell into stunned silence. Thibault''s men, who had once charged forward with a mix of bravado and fear, now froze in their tracks, their breaths held, watching as their leader''s lifeless body crumpled. Panic rippled through the crowd like a wave, some ready to rush Claude, others rooted in place, paralyzed by the horror unfolding before them.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Then, it happened. The air in the room shifted, corrupted with an oppressive force that pressed down on every soul present. A horrible weight descended, like a hand squeezing the life from the room itself. It was an unforgiving, suffocating pressure that none could explain, but all could feel, deep in their bones. The blood¡ªThibault''s blood¡ªbegan to move. It flowed unnaturally across the floor, winding like rivers of crimson towards the altar at the room''s centre. Soon, the other Mad Dogs could only watch in a depressive silence, as the blood that flowed through their beating hearts began seeping out of their skin. The men''s screams pierced the air as they watched the liquid leave their veins and through their flesh, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. The altar seemed to pulse with a life of its own, drawing in the blood, consuming it with an insatiable hunger. One by one, the men collapsed, their bodies drained of life. Their screams turned to gurgles, then to silence, until only Claude remained. He watched, his vision dimming as his own blood joined the crimson tide, snaking across the floor to feed the altar''s dark thirst. And then, above the altar, a rift appeared¡ªcrimson and jagged, like a wound torn open in the fabric of reality. From that rift, something emerged. An eye, vast and unblinking, filled the space, staring down at the carnage below with an indifferent gaze. It belonged to no mortal. No man could ever carry such a gaze, that, Claude was certain of. The air grew still, as if time itself held its breath. The eye gazed upon the room. It was not a creature of this world but of something far older¡ªsomething that had watched the rise and fall of time itself. Claude''s mind buckled under its gaze. He felt himself pulled from the present, hurled through the vastness of eternity. Past, future¡ªtime unravelled before him, stretching into infinity. He saw it all¡ªhis life, his death, the countless possibilities of what could have been and what would never be. And then, the endless cycle of time, repeating, folding in on itself, an eternity that was both beautiful and tragic in its futility. His consciousness fractured under the weight of it, his very being crumbling as he was swallowed by the vastness of the eye''s gaze. His body, battered and broken, could no longer hold on, and he felt himself slipping away. As the darkness closed in, the final whisper of his thoughts escaped his shrivelled lips, barely audible: "Eternity... how beautifully tragic..." And then, silence. ----- ---------- ---------------- The heavy scent of blood still lingered in the air as another group arrived at the scene. The elderly man heading the group was clad in pristine white robes, the fabric glowing faintly in the dim light. At the centre of his chest, embroidered in shimmering silver threads, was a symbol¡ªa sprawling mountain with jagged peaks, cutting against the background like the fangs of a great beast. At its summit, a radiant star gleamed, its many pointed rays curling outward like tendrils of light, grasping at the heavens. The man surveyed the room. His eyes flicked over the bodies strewn across the floor, the twisted remains of Thibault''s men, their blood long since drained and absorbed by the altar. The stench of death was thick, but the gentleman seemed unfazed. His attention, however, was drawn to the rift above the altar¡ªthe rift from which the great eye still watched. The being within remained indifferent, its gaze piercing through the veil of reality, unblinking and vast. The Arbiter''s brow furrowed ever so slightly as he looked up at the eye. It was not fear that crossed his face, but something closer to anger. "Cursed be the old gods..." he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible to those around him, but filled with unmistakable disdain. ¡°The Afflicter¡­¡± Behind him, a group of knights¡ªclad in the steel¡ªshifted nervously. They had seen many things in their time serving under the man, but nothing like this. The air itself seemed to hum with malevolence, and the presence of the eye sent shivers down their spines. One of them, the bravest, or perhaps the most foolish, stepped forward. "Sir Arbiter¡­?" the knight''s voice wavered, betraying the fear that he tried to suppress. Without turning, the Arbiter raised a hand, silencing him. "Worry not," he said, his tone even, unwavering. "I will deal with this." The knights exchanged glances, uncertainty in their eyes, but none dared question him further. The Arbiter lowered his hand and continued; his gaze still locked on the rift. "Just get any survivors out of here. And be quick about it." The knights hesitated for only a moment longer before reluctantly nodding, their armour clinking as they moved to obey. This was not something they could participate in. [Arbiter] A sharp, relentless ringing filled Claude''s ears as he stirred from unconsciousness. Every sound felt distant, muted under the thick, throbbing hum that gnawed at the edges of his mind. He cracked his eyes open, vision swimming in fractured shapes and blurs of light. Slowly, the colours resolved into dull hues, and the rough outline of trees and sky took shape above him. "Hey, kid?" a voice cut through the haze, dragging his focus to the right. There, standing in worn armour that looked like it had seen far too many battles, was a knight. His hair was dirty blonde, streaked with strands of grey, and he had a scruffy, almost unkempt look. His eyes were half-lidded and his expression bordered on apathetic, as though he''d rather be anywhere else. The knight''s hand rested loosely on the pommel of his sword, and he shifted his weight lazily as he sized up Claude. "You awake, kid? Looks like you took a real beating back there." Claude nodded slowly, still trying to shake off the haze in his head. The man''s relaxed manner and drawling tone made it hard to tell whether he was friend or foe, but the knight''s nonchalance was nevertheless grounding. He understood that at least for now, he was out of immediate danger. "What¡­ where am I?" Claude''s voice was raspy. "You''re just on the outskirts of Littourborg," the knight replied, scratching the back of his neck. "City''s been evacuated. You''d think they were expecting the end of the world, the way folks scrambled out of there." Claude only half-heard the knight''s words. As he moved, he noticed that his injuries¡ªbroken ribs, torn muscles, the searing burns from acid¡ªhad all but disappeared. His body felt¡­ whole. But how? The knight''s lazy eyes narrowed as he noticed Claude''s distraction. "Don''t think too hard about it. Lord Arbiter took care of your injuries," he added, shrugging as though it were a trivial detail. "Seems he took a real interest in you. Lucky kid." Claude''s expression shifted slightly. "Guess I''m s''posed to bring you to him," the knight continued, stretching and cracking his neck before extending a hand down to Claude. "He''s probably waiting to meet you." Claude took the hand, rising to his feet, eyes still clouded with questions he didn''t yet care to voice. ----- ---------- ---------------- The knight led Claude through the dense forest until they reached a secluded clearing. There, an old man stood, his skin tanned and clothed in a flowing white robe adorned with silver-threaded symbols that shimmered faintly in the afternoon light. "Ah, you''re awake," he said, his accent foreign to Claude. The old man examined Claude with a curious, discerning gaze. "I must say, it''s rare for a mere Mage Apprentice to disrupt the plans of the Plague Bearers," he added. "You may not realise it yet, but you''ve done Elysium a considerable service." The elderly man continued, "Olivier was a Sentinel, someone we''ve been tracking for years. For him to fall here¡­" He trailed off, shaking his head before he continued. "He was once part of the revolt in Saint-Aub¨¦ry, the duchy that tried to overthrow the boy-king Louis VII. Well... we all know how well that turned out." After a moment, the old man''s expression softened, as if he''d remembered something. "Ah, but where are my manners?" He offered a small, formal bow. "I am Zal, an Arbiter mage from Elysium. Graduate of the School of Biomancy. Now serving with the Inquisition."If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He studied Claude, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, boy¡ªhow did you come to possess magic? Elysium has all but unified mage society, yet you¡ªa stranger to us¡ªbear our power." His gaze sharpened. "Who taught you?" Claude remained silent as he weighed his options. He knew little of mage society. Too little. Was it smart to reveal Raymond as his mentor? Claude was unsure. But, if he didn''t, what else could he say? He also couldn''t afford to keep silent, not now, not with... that still fresh in his mind. A flicker of memory¡ªthe barest glimpse of what he''d seen that day¡ªbrought a glint to his eyes. He wanted¡ªno, needed¡ªto know more. "Raymond," he said finally. At the mention of the name, Zal fell into an immediate silence. "Raymond¡­" he murmured, the name lingering on his tongue. "Yes, I know of him. A mortal. Unable to tread the path of magic. Recruited from the capital, Val¨¦ronne. A rare talent in the royal academy eventually brought into Elysium''s fold." "What happened to Raymond?" Zal asked. "Why is he not with you¡­?" "He''s dead," replied Claude, the words leaving his lips almost without his own realisation. As they settled in the open air, he felt a strange, dizzying sensation, his mind flitting through memories¡ªfragments of all that he had endured. All the things he had overcome. Subspace anomalies. Journeys through realms unknown. Battles against a cultist conspiracy. Yet, as this unsettling realisation took hold, the flames that burned within him only blazed hotter, fiercer. He understood that he was still too weak. He needed strength, enough strength to protect himself. Enough strength to allow him to learn about the nature of this world. The subspace. And, that... eye. Meanwhile, Zal stood motionless, the weight of the words crushing him as if the air itself had turned to stone. Raymond is gone. The thought echoed in his mind, hollow and ceaseless. Memories surged forward¡ªa younger Raymond, a younger him. Their joys. Their sorrows. And, their fervour for knowledge. The Arbiter clenched his fists. Raymond was not just a friend¡ªhe was a confidant, almost like a son. But this accursed world had robbed him of the last person that he could consider family. Zal''s fists clenched, his sorrow turning briefly to anger. At the world, at fate, at himself. He should have been there. He should have protected him. ''I should not have let him leave Elysium to chase that childish dream of his!'' But as quickly as the anger flared, it dissolved, leaving only the hollow ache of loss. And as Zal''s gaze lingered on Claude he resolved to himself. ''I will not let your memory fade, Raymond. I will see that your death was not in vain. Your student... I will do my best to protect him.'' Using his years of experience, he recomposed himself and looked at the Mage Apprentice before him. The boy''s calm demeanour, that stillness in his eyes¡ªtraits uncommon in one so young, especially after encountering a bunch of cultists and having lost their loved ones. How could someone his age appear so unaffected? He thought of how the boy in front of him had almost encroached on the pinnacle of mage apprentice. It typically took decades of disciplined study to achieve even a fraction of it, even he himself only became a pinnacle apprentice in his mid-thirties. The only other possibility surfaced in Zal''s mind¡ªa method so seldom used it had nearly slipped into obscurity. Painful. Suicidal. Pointless. These were the words most often uttered by those who knew of it. The method in question? Stimulating mental energy through battle, forcing the mind to its limits in the thick of battle, stretching one''s strength at the expense of mind, body, and sometimes even sanity. Few dared to pursue it. Why would they, when the peaceful, tried-and-true path of steady study promised the same power with none of the scars? Zal did not want to even imagine what kind of life this boy had led up till now. "I have seen many walk the path of magic." He sighed as he realised what he ought to do. "Some with unyielding resolve, others consumed by ambition. Few, however, possess the raw potential I sense in you. What you have accomplished at this young age of yours is rare¡ªalmost unbelievable." Opposite him, Claude remained indifferent. All he just wanted to know was... What would happen to him now? "I am not sure whether Raymond had time to explain Elysium to you." Zal exhaled, his tone softening. "Elysium is a sanctuary for learning, a bastion of knowledge. It is a place where those with potential are cultivated. But it is not without its dangers¡ªits demands. I can offer you the chance to join, though this decision will ultimately be left to you." Claude''s silence stretched between them. Zal allowed it, giving Claude the space to process his words. And then, finally, he pressed on. "Come to Elysium. There, you will find the answers you seek. And perhaps... you may find peace within yourself." The boy across him gave a small nod, much to the relief of the Arbiter. Having the boy in Elysium would allow him to monitor Claude and ensure he was stable of mind. Yet unknown to Zal, Claude''s thoughts were spiralling in an entirely different direction as he realised that he might soon be embarking on a new path. A path that could explain what he had seen. Eternity. Perhaps... I could...? [Elysium] Claude observed the scene as people bustled about, the soldiers guiding evacuees back into the city after spreading the word that a bandit attack had been imminent. Obviously, it was only an excuse. He noticed Guillaume¡ªthe indolent knight he''d first encountered upon waking¡ªnow leading the rest of the knights and soldiers with an unexpectedly focused demeanour. "Ready?" A voice sounded beside him. Claude turned to see Zal, who had returned after ensuring all traces of the ritual had faded. "We''re leaving now? But what about the knights? And, how will¡ª" "Don''t worry about them. They''re not children; they can handle their tasks," Zal cut him off briskly. But Claude''s real question wasn''t about the knights. How were they getting to Elysium? Before he could ask aloud, he felt something envelop his body, and without a second''s warning, he and Zal shot into the air. ----- ---------- ---------------- Claude''s eyes ached, struggling to keep up with the blur of his surroundings as they hurtled through the air. Despite travelling at a speed that would humble any bird, he felt oddly unaffected. Is it because of this? he wondered, squinting at the strange layer¡ªa translucent film of air that seemed to coat his body like a protective shell. Looking ahead, something began to emerge from beneath the clouds, a shape distinct from the bright sky. A mountain range. It was a sprawling, rugged expanse of towering peaks and deep, shadowed valleys. The rocky terrain was an earthy brown, streaked with sparse vegetation. Yet, that was not all. As Claude''s gaze shifted from the rugged peaks below, he noticed something hovering above them. Claude blinked, squinted his eyes, and looked again. But no, the vision persisted¡ªan enormous structure suspended in the air, unaffected by the howling winds that ran through the mountain range. It wasn¡¯t a bird, nor a cloud, nor any natural phenomenon he could recognise. ''An island¡­?!'' His half-formed exclamation was silenced by sheer wonder as the colossal floating landmass fully revealed itself. It was a vision that defied everything he knew about the natural world. The island was circular, cradled in lush, verdant forests that cloaked its perimeter in a deep green. Rising around the edges were four colossal stone spires, they surface as dark as storm clouds. At the heart of the island lay a majestic structure¡ªa sprawling building of pristine white marble, its massive archways, towering stained-glass windows, and open courtyards. Between this central marvel and the four massive towers lay a bustling city, woven with manicured gardens and crystalline fountains. Whoosh! They began to rapidly descend, landing before a massive gate. At the gate stood guard a pair of knights, clad in bright, silver armour polished to a mirror sheen. "Your Excellency Zal!" the knights shouted in unison, their armour clinking as they raised their arms in a crisp salute. Zal acknowledged them with a nod and strode forward, Claude trailing a step behind, eyes darting around, trying to absorb every detail. "Wonder why we didn''t directly enter the city?" Zal''s hands were clasped behind his back as he strolled ahead, his head tilted toward Claude. Not waiting for an answer, Zal continued, voice filled with a faint amusement. "Remember those four massive towers you saw at the corners of the island?"You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Claude nodded, curiosity gnawing at his thoughts. "Those are the mage towers belonging to the High Council, headed by the Four Mage Lords, who stand at the helm of all mages. Mortal gods, they''re sometimes called¡­" Admiration flickered in Zal''s eyes as he mentioned the Mage Lords. ''Mage Lord? Is that a higher level of mage?'' Claude wondered silently. But his thoughts paused, his attention drawn back as Zal went on. "Each Mage Lord has their own specific tower, where they conduct their personal research. Anyone entering the city from above may be deemed a spy, gathering information on these towers¡­ and let''s just say, those who ignored the warning did not exactly make it back down in one piece." Zal''s voice dropped as he strolled forward. But just as Claude''s mind began to spin with questions, Zal clapped his hands. "Ah! We''re here!" Zal''s voice pulled him back to the present. They stood at the threshold of a city, no longer in an idyllic forest. A sprawling vista lay before him, bustling with activity yet brimming with an unusual calm. The streets are paved with smooth, polished stones, and buildings shaped from ivory-hued stone, looming overhead. Lush gardens interspersed among the buildings were filled with beautiful, exotic flora. People strode the streets, garbed in robes bearing odd insignias, while children hurried from one building to another, their eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. They finally arrived at a modest structure nestled between two larger buildings. Unlike the exquisite facades around it, this building was plain, and made of sturdy wood and stone. A sign bearing the inscription "Task Registry" hung above the entrance. As Claude followed Zal inside, they found a young man seated at a desk near the entrance, lost in a daydream. His slender frame was draped in flowing robes, accentuating a warm olive complexion. The man''s eyes were almond-shaped and raven-black hair was pinned up with jade combs. Hearing their footsteps, he snapped out of his reverie, standing to attention. "Your Excellency Zal?" He greeted, surprise leaking into his words. "Yes! Chang Wei," Zal replied. "I need your help to register a new apprentice." Chang Wei''s brow arched slightly, a hint of doubt crossing his face. "Oh? But isn''t the college graduation due in a few months? Isn''t this a bit¡­ unusual?" "Don''t worry," Zal assured him. "I''ll explain it to the council. This is a unique situation." With a resigned shrug, Chang Wei turned to Claude, smiling. "Good morning, sir." He held out a small notepad and quill. "I just need a bit of your information to get you registered. Let''s start with your name?" A brief silence followed before Claude cleared his throat and answered. "Claude¡­ Claude de Laval." ----- ---------- ---------------- "Damn it!" The words escaped in a voice thin and brittle. A fist struck the smooth wooden table, shuddering the stacks of parchment and jars of ink. The voice''s owner, cloaked in a blue robe that obscured all but his thin, bony hands, had a face shadowed by the deep hood he wore. Yet, the fine lines tracing his knuckles and the translucent skin that clung to his joints gave away his aged exterior. "Calm down." A gentle voice drifted from across the table. "You shouldn''t be so emotional¡­ Remember who we are." They sat in a room encased by darkened stone walls, lit by the dim flicker of torchlight. A large, arched window overlooked a mountain range, where the peaks of distant mountains pierced the clouds. Across the table that sat in the centre of the room, the two figures faced each other. The man was tense, his bony hands balled into fists. Opposite him sat a woman. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with strikingly brilliant blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Clad in a dark robe that draped down her arms, sleeves pooling onto the desk, she had sharp blue eyes that were magnified by her round spectacles. "Don''t be emotional?!" The old man shouted, his voice seething with fury. "Damn it, woman! Do you understand the consequences of this?!" "A whole year!" he continued, slamming his hand once more. "For a whole year, we stalled the Inquisition. We gave those plague bearers a year to cast their vile ritual! And now what?!" The target of his rage merely adjusted her glasses, her face placid as she let his anger wash over her. She rested her chin upon her stacked hands, her elbows firmly planted on the desk. "And?" she replied, a wry smile touching her lips. "What can we do? Nicolas is already growing suspicious of my true intentions. At least you remain beyond his suspicions for now." The old man grumbled, though his shoulders slumped with resignation. His anger seemed to falter, his words sputtering into silence before he exhaled in a long, defeated sigh. "I understand," the woman said softly, her voice as smooth as silk. "You feel uncertain¡ªyou doubt the feasibility of our plan... But have faith; our pawns in Assur have succeeded. A new era lies ahead if we are willing to seize it." The old man gave her a long look. Then, with a nod, he muttered a low farewell, his voice. He lifted a hand, and with a flick of his fingers, the air before him twisted and shimmered. A dark tear shredded through the air before him, it soon grew in size and formed a stable circular form, its depths shifting in shades of indigo and black. He stepped forward, and as he vanished into the churning darkness, the odd tear closed with a quiet hiss, leaving no trace of his presence in the room. The woman watched him disappear, her gaze thoughtful. "Oh my, seems he''s picked up a trick or two." She chuckled softly. Leaning back in her chair, she stretched, arms raised high above her head as she stifled a yawn. For a brief moment, her facade slipped, revealing an almost childlike satisfaction. "Who was it that caused the Francia operation to fail¡­? Claude, was it?" Her lips curled into an odd smirk. "How very interesting." [Cataclysm] Claude sat in silence, his gaze dropping to his own robes, the black fabric hanging clean and neat. On his chest, embroidered in bronze thread, was a six-pointed star encircling a small circle¡ªthe symbol of a Mage Apprentice. Beneath this symbol lay his silver badge, marked with Claude de Laval, Department of Energetics. Amidst the silence, his mind turned back to earlier. After registering as a Mage Apprentice, he''d been presented with the choice of departments to join. Although there were four departments in total, only three were open to new apprentices, while the fourth was slightly more... unique. Zal had urged him to join the Department of Energetics. It was the same department that Raymond had once been a part of, working as an associate professor. And, the choice seemed natural; every spell he''d learned thus far fell under Energetics, and his grasp on the fundamentals would serve him well. With a sigh, Claude leaned back, eyes scanning the modest yet unfamiliar room. It was bathed in a warm, golden light that filtered through tall, latticed windows framing the spires of Elysium against the afternoon sky. Polished wooden floors gleamed faintly, while a dark oak table sat at the centre, its surface bare. He shifted, feeling the cushions beneath him seemed to mould to his form. "So... this is a sofa?" he muttered, fidgeting slightly. "Elysium really has quite a few nifty things¡­" The fabric was softer than he''d expected, yielding to his weight yet springing back just enough to cradle him comfortably. The house, provided by Elysium was his accommodation for now. He had a month to settle in, but after that, Elysium would assign him a mission to complete. It was a part of the price to pay for the accommodation. In the future, even more missions will be assigned, one every three months, as a way for him to pay back his use of Elysium facilities. And yet, the thought didn''t bring the dread it might have once; rather, it brought determination. His gaze drifted to the badge again. After everything that had happened¡ªthe conflicts, the long nights spent sleepless and on edge¡ªhe was here, finally. But he couldn''t afford to grow complacent. He had questions, and he would find answers. An abundance of questions remained in his mind, yet now he was in a place where real knowledge, the kind he''d only ever dreamed of, was within his reach. As he considered this, Zal''s last words echoed in his mind: "For now, get adjusted to life here. I''ll inform the council about you. You should be fine, but expect an observation period." Claude frowned slightly, gripping the badge tighter. ''I just hope this will go fine,'' he thought. Yet, deep within him, a small spark of confidence flared¡ªhe had come this far, and whatever lay ahead, he would face it. He had to. ----- ---------- ---------------- Rustle! The faint sound of parchment echoed through the vast space as Claude moved deeper into the library''s aisles, one of many in a sea of shelves that seemed to stretch endlessly. This was the Qasr-e-Vehem¡ªan amalgamation of college, archive, and library.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. It had once been the grand Royal Library of the Uru Kingdom. Left to ruin in the aftermath of the War of the Faithless¡ªthe devastating conflict that brought Uru to its knees. After being rebuilt, it became a library and a temple for the mages of Elysium. A reservoir of knowledge, a bastion of faith. The library walls were lined with thick tomes and scrolls, some stacked haphazardly, others displayed with meticulous care in glass cases. The towering shelves held knowledge from every known corner of the world. As the scent of parchment and ink drifted into Claude''s nose, a wave of memories washed over him. Bringing him back to his days as a library assistant, back in that small coastal city in Francia. Only months ago, he had been assisting in managing a library, dreaming of finding Elysium. And yet here he was. Fate had spun its web, and now he stood not as an assistant but as an apprentice mage. Nevertheless, his ruminations were shattered by the memory of what had just transpired. His expression darkened as he recalled the image that had branded itself into his thoughts¡ªa vast, watching eye. And beyond that¡­ Eternity. He had glimpsed it¡ªa path, a way to transcend, to reach the fabled realm of immortality. An answer to the question that had lingered in the back of his mind since that night in the village. Would he also die? Just like Raymond? Would his body be devoured by the Earth, becoming a mere echo of the past? Yet, if he was to pursue this goal, he needed more understanding and knowledge beyond what he''d yet encountered. He returned a book to the shelf, scanning titles as he walked further down the aisle, hoping for even the faintest hint of a lead. His eyes stopped on a thick, leather-bound tome, embossed with faint golden letters that shimmered faintly. Subspace: Mysteries and Truths, by Charlotte Dupont. He lifted the heavy book from the shelf and opened to the introduction, his eyes narrowing as he read. Introduction: The Subspace was first known about during the War of the Gods. When Asteria, Queen of the Gods, went missing, a power struggle erupted. In this turbulent time, the divine throne lay vulnerable, and the first hints of subspace began to taint the mortal world. Only now do we understand that these gods fell not to one another, but to the creeping corruption that came from within subspace itself. But subspace corruption is not indiscriminate; it has a purpose and a direction. Over time, we learned that even gods are vulnerable to it, becoming twisted, and unrecognisable. A single seed of this corruption can ripple outward, tainting those who offered their faith... This corruption thus, spread and spread until IT happened. Claude''s eyes narrowed as he continued to read, feeling that he was getting closer to understanding at least some of the questions he had. Cataclysm: And then He came. Called forth from the deepest reaches of subspace, a being arrived¡ªnot as an incorporeal presence but in a physical form, a terrible manifestation summoned to this fragile world. His arrival marked the true onset of the Cataclysm, a calamity so vast and unfathomable that the world would never recover. History itself began to unravel in His wake; time seemed to twist and fragment. Records vanished, stories warped, and truths dissolved into myth. The Gods, the empire, and every great power that had once stood tall¡ªeverything disappeared, as though swept away by an unrelenting tide. The skies bled, the earth convulsed, and the seas raged as He moved across the lands, an unstoppable force. A malevolent force. Nations crumbled beneath His shadow, their borders erased, their people scattered. The world writhed and reshaped itself as if reality bent to accommodate His will. When the chaos finally settled, it was as if the remnants of creation had fallen into new and unfamiliar patterns. The continents, fractured and reshaped, bore the first traces of the world we know now¡ªa crude prototype of its current form, Arta. Yet, as mysteriously as He had come, He vanished. When He left¡ªor how¡ªremains a riddle buried in the tides of time. The few texts that have survived from the Lost Millennium speak only in fragments of His departure. Some whisper that He was banished, others that He simply withdrew, his purpose fulfilled. All that is certain is this: with the Cataclysm¡¯s end came the fall of the Age of the Gods. The divine beings who had once walked alongside humanity disappeared into obscurity, leaving no trace but ruins and relics. With their departure, the golden age of humanity faded, leaving the survivors to rebuild amidst the ashes of a world forever scarred. The age that followed was one of silence and confusion, where history itself transformed into an untrustworthy storyteller. From this, the civilisations of today began to rise. But even now, the echoes of that terrible presence linger... [Lesson] The lecture hall buzzed with murmurs as Claude sat alone, tapping his finger against the desk. Tap! Tap! Tap! The rhythmic sound was drowned by the hushed conversations that rippled faintly through the grand amphitheatre. Its tiered rows of desks curved around the central stage, drawing the eye toward the smooth, well-worn blackboard plastered there. A soft glow illuminated the room under the light of a grand chandelier hanging from above, its glass orbs casting warm hues over the room. Claude barely noticed the hum of voices or the shuffling of students finding their seats. He was instead filled with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. This was his first lecture at Elysium. Despite these lectures being geared toward fresh academy graduates just beginning their journey as mages, Claude knew they were a necessary step for him. While others might see it as beneath them, Claude knew he couldn¡¯t afford to let pride interfere with his pursuit of knowledge. His foundation in magic was still hollow, as he had never been officially taught in magic. Each department in Elysium had its own lectures, tailored for them: Biomancy, Energetics, and Subspace Studies. Students could technically attend any lecture, though they were advised to focus on one discipline to avoid overextending themselves. Claude thought about the Energetics Lecture he was currently waiting for, he could only hope he would learn something new. Something to bridge the gaps in his knowledge. He needed more power... more knowledge. A voice broke through his thoughts. "Excuse me?" Claude looked up to see a boy about his age, with hair like fire and vivid green eyes, smiling as if they were old friends. "Is anyone sitting here?" Claude glanced around at the empty seats scattered across the hall and sighed. "...Sure," he said, closing his eyes again. "Great! Thanks. I''m Charles, by the way, from La For¨ºt-Rouge, over in western Francia." Charles leaned in slightly. "I hear today''s lecture is being given by a visiting professor from the Royal Academy." Claude raised an eyebrow. "Visiting professor?" "Yeah, Madam Garnier. She''s one of the few non-mages Elysium brought in for research. They say she''s an expert in Magical Entropy and works as an assistant to a Mage Lord," Charles said, leaning back with an air of excitement. Magical Entropy. The term piqued Claude''s interest, it was not something he had ever heard of. Creak! The door to the hall opened and a hush fell over the room as an elderly woman took to the stage. Claude''s gaze shifted to her: she had hazel eyes, and silver hair, her expression gentle. She cleared her throat, her voice as genial as her appearance.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Welcome," she began. "Today''s lecture will be an introduction to Magical Entropy, something that is crucial to understanding the limitations of magic itself." Turning to the blackboard, she drew a small circle with a piece of chalk. "Entropy," she continued, turning to the class, "is a measure of disorder or randomness within a system. In mundane terms, it explains why a tidy room tends to become messy over time¡ªor why a lit candle will eventually burn out. Left unchecked, all systems move toward greater disorder. This fundamental principle also applies to magic." She tapped the circle she had drawn. "Here, a simple Tier 0 spell¡ªWater Orb. I believe many of you in Energetics have already practised this one, so we won''t go into spell mechanics." "Now, tell me¡ªwhat do you think happens when the mental energy maintaining this spell ceases?" The room was silent. She waited a beat, then turned and drew an arrow from the orb to a puddle. "The orb collapses into a puddle," she said. "But does it stop there? No. That puddle will eventually evaporate, returning to the air as vapour. Has anything fundamentally changed since the spell''s casting?" She glanced around at the still silent hall, seeing no answer, she just sighed to herself. "Never mind, the answer was..." She wrote the words Mental Energy on the board and continued. "Where did the energy for that spell come from?" "From us," Charles sitting beside Claude muttered out loud, caught up in the explanation. "Exactly." She chuckled, pleased someone finally engaged in the lesson, whether unintentionally or not. "Your mental energy is an extension of your consciousness, renewed during rest, and fortified through knowledge. Her Eminence Catherine discovered that brain activity spikes when mental energy is expended in this way." She gestured to the chalkboard. "This process isn''t free¡ªit''s tied to your body. The energy your body uses to maintain this heightened brain activity will always produce a byproduct: heat." She wrote on the board: ¦¤S = ¦¤Q / T "Now," she continued, "let''s break down this equation. ¦¤S represents a change in entropy, ¦¤Q the change in heat, and T the system''s absolute temperature." She turned back to the students. "Entropy, or disorder, is the inevitable result of energy transformation. A stable spell is momentary. Mental energy imposes order, but that order cannot last. Entropy always wins." "When mental energy is used to increase order¡ªwhether it''s forming a Water Orb or any other spell¡ªit is always at the cost of eventual entropy. As the mental energy dissipates, the disorder is naturally restored. The energy you spent organizing the spell returns to the world as heat, and that heat contributes to the rise of entropy." "Here''s something to remember," she said, her voice dropping slightly. "Wherever mental energy creates order, it strengthens the fabric of reality. But chaos always seeks to undermine it. The energy left behind acts as a beacon to subspace¡ªwhich feeds on the very concept of disorder. Practising magic extensively outside of Elysium only serves to weaken the barriers between our world and subspace." The term "subspace" sent a murmur through the hall, but Madam Garnier remained unaffected. "That is why magic practice outside these grounds is restricted. Here, we have Mage Lords to safeguard against¡­ unwanted intrusions," she said with a smile, her tone light but her gaze heavy. The students sat in stunned silence, revelling in her words. "Thank you for your attention," she concluded, giving a small smile. "I''m afraid I may have gone on a bit, but I hope it was helpful." Clap! Clap! Clap! The applause started hesitantly but grew, filling the hall as she left the podium. Claude sat back, his mind churning. A question wormed its way into his thoughts. Claude could not be certain... but he always felt like this simple lesson hinted at something else. ''Do spells just increase entropy...? Then, why did she call it a limitation of magic?'' [Spark] After the lecture had ended, Claude swiftly left the lecture hall, and the student''s chatter faded into a muffled hum behind him. Charles hustled to keep up from behind, a stream of questions tumbling out of his mouth. "Whoa! I didn''t realize Entropy was so fascinating! And did you hear what she said? About Her Eminence? So it''s true¡ªshe''s linked to a Mage Lord!" His eyes sparkled with excitement. "Why aren''t you freaking out? This is a Mage Lord we''re talking about! The pinnacle of magic!" "No matter how impressive a Mage Lord is, it has little to do with us," Claude plainly answered. Charles deflated slightly, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah... I guess you''re right." He paused, then brightened again. "Hey, wait. I just realized¡ªI never got your name." Claude glanced at the crimson tufts of hair bobbing in his peripheral vision and sighed. From his time with the village kids, he''d learned that disinterest was the quickest way to douse their enthusiasm. Yet, as Charles continued to prattle on, Claude felt he may have been mistaken. ''Why am I even likening him to a child?'' He shook his head. "Claude. That''s my name." "Claude, huh? Nice name. You''re from Francia, too? Same as me! How come I''ve never seen you around before?" Charles rattled on, seemingly oblivious to the lack of engagement. Claude offered little more than the occasional nod, hoping his silence would eventually signal that the conversation was over. But to his growing dismay, Charles seemed immune to subtle hints. By the time they reached the centre of Qasr-e-Vehem, Claude had resigned himself to the one-sided dialogue. The field before them stretched wide, a verdant expanse of emerald grass swaying gently in the breeze, dappled with warm afternoon sunlight. Charles stopped abruptly, looking around. "Hey, what are we doing here?" Claude raised a brow. We? He sighed inwardly, his patience thinning. "It''s field practice. They say we''ll be learning spells here." "Field practice...?" Charles''s laughter turned uneasy. "Maybe we should¡ªHey! Wait up!" He stumbled forward, scrambling to catch up as Claude walked ahead without waiting. ----- ---------- ---------------- A large group of students gathered in the middle of a field. And, in front of the group stood a middle-aged man with greying hair, tanned skin, and piercing eyes that appeared almost black. His semi-formal attire¡ªa fitted tunic of deep navy with silver embroidery at the cuffs and collar, paired with dark trousers and well-worn boots¡ªonly heightened his air of authority. Claude stood silently amidst the crowd, whilst beside him, Charles fidgeted restlessly. "No way! It''s Mr. Cyrus!" Charles whispered, his mouth agape. "He''s a retired Inquisitor!" Claude barely acknowledged the stream of trivia Charles provided, though one word snagged his attention. Inquisitor...? The title stirred memories of Zal. From what Claude had gathered, the Inquisition was a specialized task force operating directly under the Mage Council and was the elusive fourth department of Elysium. Its primary role was to locate and neutralise major subspace invasions or corruptions in the material world. Every Inquisitor had to be at least an Official Mage, leading a squad of trained knights in their missions. Yet, Claude''s thoughts were interrupted by Cyrus'' voice. "Listen up!" Cyrus barked, his voice sharp. "You all know why you''re here, so I won''t waste time on introductions." His gaze swept over the apprentices. "Today, you''ll be learning a newly developed spell from Elysium."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. And, with a swift raise of his arm, a sudden, sharp crackle split the air as a bright, white spark leapt into existence above his palm. The spark hissed and sizzled, the sound somewhere between a high-pitched crackling and the low rumble of distant thunder. "This," Cyrus announced, "is the Tier 0 Spell: Spark." He let the spell dissipate with a flick of his wrist. "Of course, as apprentices, you won''t be able to perform it to this level just yet." He paced slowly, his boots pressing into the earth. "The principle behind this spell is static electricity¡ªsomething you should be familiar with if you''ve paid attention to lessons at the Academy. It''s a simplified variant of the Tier 1 Spell: Lightning Manipulation." Claude''s brows knitted together. Static electricity? The term was foreign to him, as was the mention of electrons. Most of his knowledge was rooted in the pressure and steam-based technologies he had studied in the ruins'' library. "Psst! You''re not from the Academy, right?" Charles leaned in. "Static electricity is when certain materials build up an electrical charge on their surface. It happens when you rub two objects together¡ªlike wool and glass, or even your shoes on a carpet¡ªand it knocks around these tiny particles called electrons." He gestured animatedly. "Electrons carry a negative charge, and when they move from one object to another, you end up with one thing that''s got too many negatives¡ªmaking it negatively charged¡ªand another that''s missing some, making it positively charged. That imbalance is what we call static electricity." Charles grinned. "It''s the same thing that makes your hair stick up when you take off a sweater, or when you touch a doorknob and get that little shock. Now, for this spell, you''re using your mental energy to strip electrons from the air molecules, creating a similar imbalance." "One area gets a positive charge, another gets a negative one and boom¡ªelectrons jump from the negative end to the positive end. It happens when they try to balance out again." Claude nodded. He extended his arm, focusing his mental energy. Then, he reached out, grasping for the concept Charles had clumsily explained earlier. Negative charges, positive charges. A pull and a push. Imbalance creating motion. He inhaled deeply and visualised the particles aligning. A faint violet glow flickered in the air before him, accompanied by a soft crackle. But just as quickly as it appeared, the spark fizzled out. "Focus, Claude," he muttered to himself. Charles, standing nearby, winced as he observed. "Hey, no shame in it! First tries are always the hardest¡ª" Claude ignored him, his mind narrowing in on the sensation. Trying again, he rubbed his fingers together, recalling the sensation of friction and how Charles had described it. Electrons. Particles stripped from one surface and pushed to another. Another glow flickered into existence, faint but more stable this time. The crackle was sharper, louder, and it lingered for a heartbeat longer. "Better," Claude murmured. Charles leaned closer, peering at the dissipating spark. "Man, that¡¯s progress! You¡¯ve got¡ªuh, what¡¯s the phrase? Potential?" Claude¡¯s only response was a sharp glance that silenced Charles instantly. He extended his hand once more. Casting the spell again. He repeated the process. The sparks growing brighter, sharper, and more defined, in each following attempt. And, finally, after several attempts, the electricity didn¡¯t just fizzle and vanish. A bright purple spark burst into life before him, crackling and snapping as it hovered steadily in the air. Glowing like a tiny star. Charles, watching intently, blinked in astonishment. "What on earth...?" He started counting on his fingers, muttering under his breath. "1, 2, 3... 9?! 9 spells! You''re not a beginner Mage Apprentice, are you?" Claude turned, raising a brow. "Why are you even here?" Charles whispered in disbelief. "Advanced Mage Apprentices usually lock themselves away in research for decades to advance." Yet, before Claude could respond, Cyrus approached, his dark eyes gleaming with interest. "Well, I''ll be damned!" he said with a smirk. "You''re rather quick-witted to pick up this Tier 0 Spell so fast." He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "But if you keep that up, you''re setting yourself up for trouble." Claude tilted his head. "Trouble?" "Yes, trouble," Cyrus confirmed. "I''m talking about how you cast spells¡ªspecifically, your reliance on gestures." He crossed his arms, his tone turning grave. "Using gestures can help focus your energy and increase spell potency. But in combat, it''s a liability. Anyone familiar with magic will watch your movements and predict your next move. By the time you finish casting, you could already be dead." Cyrus''s gaze hardened. "And, even with our enhanced physical strength and manipulation of mental energy, we are far from invincible. Never, and I mean never, engage in close combat unless you have no other choice. Our bodies are too fragile in the grand scheme of things." Claude absorbed every word, yet, a small doubt lingered in his mind. Anyone familiar with magic will watch your movements and predict your next move. Cyrus hadn''t said familiar with mages. He said familiar with magic. Claude''s eyes narrowed. He''s not talking about cultists or Voidspawns. Does he mean... other mages? [Mission] Time passed swiftly, and it had already been three weeks since Claude arrived in Elysium. Though the novelty of the floating city still struck him occasionally, he had begun to settle into a steady routine. Most of his days found him rotating between lectures, spell practice and the library. Today, he had found himself in the library. Despite the bustling figures who wandered its aisles, rifling through shelves, the space maintained an almost sacred quiet, broken only by the occasional rustle of parchment. This time, however, Claude wasn''t alone. Flip! The soft sound of a turning page drew his attention to the seat beside him. Charles sat there, as he so often did these days, completely engrossed in a book titled "The Nature of Flames and Volatile Substances" The title alone was enough to make Claude suppress a sigh. Three weeks. Hasn''t he found something better to do than shadow me everywhere? Claude''s gaze lingered on Charles for a moment longer, noting his furrowed brow and the slight tilt of his head as he read. With a shake of his own head, Claude pushed the distraction aside and returned his focus to the book before him. The title, "Effects of Long-Term Exposure to Mental Energy in Humans," piqued his interest¡ªperfectly suited to the questions that had begun to occupy his mind. He ran his fingers lightly over the parchment as he read: "For millennia, the effects of mental energy on the human body have been hotly debated. With this work, we aim to contribute to the growing body of knowledge... Our findings indicate that prolonged exposure to mental energy leads to heightened neurological activity in both mages and non-mages. However, the degree of enhancement is notably greater¡ªapproximately fourfold¡ªin mages." Claude leaned in closer. A small diagram on the adjacent page illustrates the various relevant neural pathways. "This discrepancy may be attributed to a mage''s innate affinity for mental energy, though this remains speculative and warrants further study." He turned the page, his eyes drawn to another illustration, this time comparing muscular development in two figures. One¡ªa mage¡ªstood strong and robust, while the non-mage beside it was frail, almost skeletal. "Yet, there are significant caveats: non-mages subjected to prolonged exposure often develop severe muscular atrophy and suffer from markedly reduced lifespans. Conversely, mages exhibit the opposite effect¡ªshowing increased muscle and bone density, as well as extended lifespans." The contrast was stark, almost cruel in its disparity. Claude''s brow furrowed as he continued reading. "Overall, our data suggest that the impact of mental energy varies significantly between individuals, influenced by their inherent affinity and physical constitution." Claude let out a slow breath as he closed the book, his fingers drumming lightly against its cover. His thoughts began to wander back to his previous world. He hadn''t lingered long, but... Had his use of mental energy left behind any unintended consequences? ''If I can¡­ I should probably go back to check.'' Yet even as the thought formed, another followed close behind¡ªthe Subspace network within him. For weeks now, it had remained stubbornly silent. No matter what he tried, it refused to respond. ''What do I need to do to travel again?'' He sombrely thought.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The question gnawed at him. His first journey had been crucial, granting him knowledge and power far beyond what he had ever imagined. The thought of discovering new worlds, each with its own secrets to uncover, was a temptation he found difficult to resist. But for now, those thoughts would have to wait. Bong! Bong! Claude glanced up, his attention caught by the massive clock that dominated the library''s central hall. It was a towering grandfather clock carved from dark oak. The polished brass pendulum swung back and forth with a rhythmic inevitability. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The sound filled the space. Claude stared at the clock for a moment longer before shaking his head. Is it time already? Closing the book, he stood up. The chair scraped lightly against the floor as he pushed it back. "Claude? You leaving?" Charles''s voice broke the silence, his head lifting from his book. "Yes." Claude tucked the book under his arm and gave a small wave. "I have somewhere to be." Charles''s eyes followed him as he turned to leave. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at Claude''s lips¡ªone Charles wouldn''t see. ''Finally! I no longer have a tail following me about.'' Suppressing the thought, Claude made his way to the library''s doors. ----- ---------- ---------------- Standing before a counter, Claude allowed his gaze to sweep over the gilded archways of the administrative hall. Behind the counter stood a familiar figure: Chang Wei, impeccably dressed as always, whose eyes gleamed as he noticed Claude''s approach. "Good afternoon, Chang Wei," Claude greeted with a polite nod, as his boots knocked on the marble floor. "Have they decided on my mission?" Chang Wei''s lips curved into a small smile. Without a word, he slid a finely crafted wooden box across the counter. "Indeed, they have," Chang Wei replied smoothly. "Your task is to investigate reports of the potential presence of a Voidspawn in a village in Marduk." Claude''s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of Voidspawn, yet still reached for the box. His fingers brushed over the cool, polished surface of the box, noting its surprising weight. "And this?" he inquired. "That," Chang Wei said, his smile growing a fraction wider, "is a tool to aid you in your task. The specifics are outlined in the documents inside, so I recommend you review them carefully. And, Claude¡ª" his tone lowered slightly, "I suggest you handle it with caution. It''s not your average equipment." Claude''s interest spiked, though he refrained from prying further. He nodded as he lifted the box with both hands. A faint clicking sound echoed inside. Perhaps a device? A weapon? He suppressed the urge to examine it immediately, deciding instead to check its contents later. "Understood," Claude replied simply before turning around and heading out. As he reached the heavy oak doors, Chang Wei''s voice rang out again, stopping him mid-stride. "Oh, Claude¡ªone more thing," Chang Wei called out, his expression betraying a hint of mischief. "You won''t be going alone. For this mission, you''ve been assigned a partner." Claude froze, his shoulders stiffening almost imperceptibly as he turned to face Chang Wei. A partner? He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word, the door swung open behind him. "Claude!" a familiar, overly enthusiastic voice rang out. Claude turned slowly, already dreading what he would see. Sure enough, there stood Charles, grinning broadly. "Looks like we''re working together!" Charles declared, his bright tone practically bouncing off the walls. For a moment, Claude could do nothing but stare, his jaw tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. The cheerful gleam in Charles''s eyes was as unrelenting as the midday sun. "Of course," Claude forced himself to return the smile. "Why wouldn''t it be you?" If Charles noticed the underlying tension in Claude''s voice, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he strode forward, clearly delighted by the arrangement. Chang Wei, meanwhile, observed the exchange with a barely concealed grin, clearly enjoying the irony. "You''ll find Charles''s insights invaluable," he said smoothly. "He''s rather knowledgable for an apprentice, as I''m sure you''ve noticed. Think of this as an opportunity to learn from one another." Claude''s lips twitched, though he resisted the urge to respond. Learn from one another? More like learning to tolerate him. "Well," Charles chirped, oblivious to Claude''s internal struggle, "I''m ready whenever you are! Shall we go over the details of the mission together? I''ve been reading up on Subspace phenomena¡ªthere''s this fascinating paper on dimensional overlaps that I think you''d love!" Claude closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. "Let''s¡­ focus on the mission briefing first," he said curtly, adjusting the box under his arm. "Absolutely!" Charles nodded enthusiastically, falling into step beside him as they left the hall. Chang Wei''s amused chuckle followed them out, echoing faintly behind them. As the heavy doors closed behind them, Claude cast a sidelong glance at his unwanted companion. Charles was already muttering something about Subspace phenomena. Suppressing a sigh, Claude turned his thoughts to the task ahead. Subspace corruption, he reminded himself. That''s the real threat here¡ªnot Charles. Just stay focused. [Lamp of Misery] The auditorium was a cavernous chamber, modelled after the grand legislative halls present in empires of old. The structure was tiered, with rows of seats rising steeply from the floor to the towering ceiling. From the highest balcony to the ground below, numerous silhouettes remained perched in their seats. The sounds of shuffling and whispers softly echoing the grand hall. And, at the apex of the room, four elevated chambers loomed, their tinted windows glinting faintly, reflecting the light of the flickering torches mounting the walls. Zal stood alone on the central stage as swirling shadows danced around him. This suffocating silence was broken by a voice from one of the chambers above. "Arbiter Zal, may I ask what prompted you to initiate this council meeting? I trust it is of utmost importance¡ªfor your sake." The voice of a middle-aged man reverberated in the hall. "I am here to demand an explanation." Said Zal, his eyes trained on the chambers above. "Regarding the mission assigned to the mage that I had recruited earlier this month." "Ah, yes. Claude, was it?" A woman''s voice floated down from another chamber, light and silky. "The one who thwarted the summoning of The Afflicter?" Murmurs rippled through the audience below like waves crashing on a distant shore. Every shadowed figure seemed to bristle at the mention of that name. "Yes," Zal replied, his tone clipped. "I need to understand why you entrusted him with such a mission. You all know the disturbances in that village cannot be attributed to a mere Voidspawn. This reeks of involvement by cultists." "Ridiculous!" Barked an elderly man from another chamber above. His raspy voice brimming with indignation. "So what if it is? You know full well why we did this!" A long, drawn-out sigh echoed from the first chamber. "Zal, he isn''t entirely wrong. You claim this boy stopped the ritual, but what evidence do we have beyond your word? We cannot ignore the possibility that this was a ruse by the Plague Bearers. To believe he uncovered and disrupted such a ritual, in the presence of a Sentinel, no less¡ªit stretches credibility." Zal''s sneer was visible even in the dim light. "So, you devised this brilliant plan to throw the boy against the same cult he just fought? To test his allegiance, you sent a rat to shadow him? Did none of you pause to consider the risk? What if he''s innocent and perishes in this reckless gambit¡ªor worse, falls into their hands?" The woman''s voice chimed in again, colder this time. "Your concern is duly noted, but let us not forget the precedent. It has been over a century since we recruited a mage raised outside Elysium. The last time we did so... you remember how that ended." Zal''s fists clenched at his sides. He took a long, steadying breath before speaking. "Fine," he muttered, his voice a low growl. "I see this argument is futile." Straightening his spine, he stood tall. "I will vouch for this boy." A tense silence followed, broken only by the faint creak of the tinted windows above. The middle-aged man''s voice cut through. "You know the gravity of such a pledge, Arbiter?" Zal''s gaze swept over the chambers, his eyes burning with a defiance that seemed at odds with his age. "I do. Let this surveillance cease. I will assume full responsibility for the boy''s actions." "And if he proves to be a cultist?" The woman''s voice dripped equal parts curiosity and cruelty. Zal remained silent for a moment before speaking. "Then I will end him myself!" -----If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ---------- ---------------- "Hmph!" Charles grunted, hefting thick branches from the forest floor toward Claude. His arms trembling as he managed a grin and dumped the load in front of his companion. "There!" Charles clapped his hands together, a futile attempt to rid his palms of the damp soil caked into them. "Come on, Claude, do the honours," he said, stepping back as he wildly gestured with his arms. Claude gave him a flat look before turning his attention to the haphazard pile of wood. Crackle! A spark of lavender-hued electricity bloomed into existence, dancing across the branches. In an instant, the pile ignited, the small flame rapidly growing as a soft breeze teased it to life. The campfire settled into a steady burn, its golden light flickering across their faces as they took their seats nearby. "So," Charles began, leaning back on his elbows. "Surprised to see me here? Don''t blame me for keeping it a secret¡ªI didn''t know about this assignment any earlier than you did!" He raised his hand, like a mischievous child swearing an oath. Claude sighed softly, brushing stray embers from his tunic. "It doesn''t matter. We''re a day away from our target. Let''s just rest here for the night." "Yes, yes. You''re right." Charles nodded, but his curiosity quickly resurfaced. "Hey, do you know what''s in the box they gave us?" "No," Claude admitted, his gaze shifting to the box resting by his feet. He hadn''t found a good opportunity to inspect it¡ªuntil now. The box was small and rectangular, crafted from dark wood with iron reinforcements along its edges. Claude slid the lid open with a faint creak, revealing its contents. Inside lay an oil lamp, its surface blackened and weathered, along with several neatly folded sheets of parchment. The lamp''s brass handle was tarnished with age, and faint carvings of intertwined serpents adorned its base. "A lamp?" Charles raised an incredulous eyebrow. "They gave us a lamp? For a mission to investigate the presence of a Voidspawn?" Claude removed the parchment and scanned the top sheet. "Apparently so," he said, his brow furrowed. He held up the document so Charles could see. Anomalous Object #279: Lamp of Misery Background: This lamp originates from the Assur province of Ancient Uru, where a young couple fled persecution from their clans. Their forbidden love led them to the Marduk desert, where they took their vows under starlight, using this lamp to illuminate the barren sands. Tragically, their journey ended when they encountered a void spawn. The lamp, infused with subspace energy during their deaths, has since retained unique properties. Ability: The lamp emits a crimson glow in the presence of a void spawn. Extensive use requires the recitation of a chant to maintain stability. Chant: "In the shadows of love, we sought our escape, Under stars of despair, our vows did take. O lamp of sorrow, guide us no more, Stay thy wrath, and light restore." Warning: Failure to recite the chant regularly when using Anomalous Object #279 (Lamp of Misery) may result in unpredictable behaviour. The lamp may cease to signal the presence of Voidspawn altogether, rendering it unreliable. In certain instances, it may even emit irregular, frantic azure flashes¡ªbehaviours that, paradoxically, seem to attract Voidspawn rather than ward them off. Such reactions are believed to be a manifestation of the lamp''s anger, though the exact nature of this anomaly remains unclear. Proceed with caution. Charles read the parchment aloud, his lips twitching "You''ve got to be joking. I''m not reciting that. Especially not to a lamp." Claude''s expression didn''t waver. "You''ll be in charge of carrying it¡ªand keeping it stable." "Nope." Charles shook his head vehemently. "No way am I singing some tragic love poem to a lamp." Yet, his attitude was short-lived and crumbled the moment his eyes met Claude''s gaze. "Fine," he muttered, snatching the lamp and muttering under his breath. "It''s just you and me, buddy," he said, addressing the lamp. To his shock, the lamp flickered with a soft, yellow glow, almost as if responding. Charles stared at it, slack-jawed, while Claude faintly shook his head. The pair resumed their journey at dawn, the forest gradually giving way to the outskirts of their target village. As they neared, the sound of giggles reached their ears¡ªchildlike, innocent. "Looks like the village kids are doing well!" Charles remarked, his grin broadening. Claude shot him a scathing glance. "Did you even read the mission briefing?" "What?" Charles shrugged. Ignoring the antics of his companion, Claude pressed onward towards the village. As they stepped into the clearing marking the edge of the village, a group of villagers spotted them. Yet, the villagers regarded them with a detached indifference, their expressions blank. Eyes lingered on Claude and Charles only long enough to assess them before quickly shifting away. "That''s strange," Charles muttered. "Didn''t they request help? Why are they acting so¡ª" "Something''s wrong." Claude raised a hand, silencing him. "Stay alert." What had appeared to be a normal village slowly twisted into something different, something darker. It was as if the very earth beneath it had opened into the gaping maw of a malevolent beast, one both hungry and waiting. [Goose Chase] Claude and Charles strode through the village, their every step drawing glances from the inhabitants. Yet, if their watchful gazes were meant to discomfort, they failed miserably, at least for Claude. His attention instead riveted on the familiar charm of his surroundings. The village sprawled in a disorganized yet picturesque array. Mud-brick cottages and their domed roofs painted in sun-baked hues of sand. Climbing vines spilt over walls, bursting with small, vivid flowers. It all reminded Claude of home¡ªor at least a dream of home. But even amid this seemingly idyllic setting, a hollow absence gnawed at him. The silence. It was all-consuming, swallowing even the faintest whispers of life. Earlier, he had caught the laughter of children, but now it was gone, leaving only quiet. Claude then paused mid-step, his sharp gaze sweeping the streets. "Where are the children?" he murmured, half to himself, half to the stillness around him. There were none. Not a single young face darting through alleys or peeking from doorways. Instead, only adults watched them, their stares vacant, their movements rigid. Yet, their eyes tracked every motion Claude and Charles made. "Psst!" Charles leaned in, his voice hushed but urgent. "Claude, do you feel it? Like we''re being watched?" Claude glanced at him, unsure if this was another of Charles'' attempts at humour. "I don''t mean them," Charles whispered, tilting his head toward the villagers. "Someone else¡ªout there. Someone... lurking." The suggestion made Claude perk up. His eyes scanned the corner of his vision, the edges of rooftops, the winding alleys. But try as he might, he found no sign of an unknown observer. "Focus," Claude said, having found nothing. "We still have a mission." By then, they had reached the largest structure in the village, a house slightly taller and wider than the others. Its entrance was adorned with faded blue tiles. Charles stepped forward, rapping briskly on the wooden door. "Hello? Mr. Rashan," Charles called, adopting a genial tone. "We''re with the Albor City Council. We were informed of a missing persons incident here." The door creaked open, revealing a frail old man with deeply tanned skin and silver-grey hair. His weathered face was framed by a short, uneven beard. "You''re with the council?" the elder asked, his voice as unsteady as his gait. "Yes," Charles replied, "we''re here to assist." "Oh, I''m terribly sorry," Rashan muttered, scratching the back of his head, his eyes darting to the side. "We''ve already found the missing child." Charles blinked, momentarily taken aback. "That''s¡­ good news?" He scratched the back of his head. "I think?" Nevertheless, someone present was not at all impressed with what was taking place. Claude stepped forward. "That''s strange," he said, his eyes on the elder. "We were informed there were seven missing children. Are you telling us they''ve all been found?" "W-Well, yes. All seven." Rashan''s face darkened. "W-what... what more d-do you w-want?" His words stuttered. "That''s a miracle," Claude said as he pressed on. "But we''ll need to confirm this. Show us the children." The old man''s expression twisted with frustration, but he grudgingly complied. He led them to a modest house a short walk away, where a weary-looking couple greeted them and brought them inside.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Claude stepped inside, his sharp gaze immediately taking in the surroundings. The couple''s home was modest, its furnishings worn but well-kept. "Your child has returned?" He asked after brief introductions. "Yes," the father replied, forcing a smile that did not reach his eyes. "He''s playing in his room with his favourite toy, he loves his little spinning top." Claude''s gaze flicked to a nearby table. "Favourite toy? Spinning top? Do you mean this one?" He asked casually, gesturing to where he was looking. Soon the eyes of everyone in the room concentrated on the table, where a lone spinning top lay motionless on its surface. A think layer of dust staining the little toy. The mother stiffened, her hands wringing the hem of her apron. "Yes, that''s right," she said hurriedly. "He¡­ loves that toy." This time Charles stepped forward, his face scrunched. "That''s odd. I thought you said he was playing with this. And," he said, picking up the spinning top and giving it a lazy spin. "It''s awfully dusty for something he loves to play with." The couple exchanged a panicked glance. The father coughed nervously. "Oh, I¡­ I must have remembered wrong," he stammered. "He''s playing outside with his friends. Yes, that''s it." Charles cocked his head. "Outside, is he? With his friends? Could we know where exactly?" The mother shook her head quickly. "W-We don''t know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don''t know?" A biting laugh escaped Claude, who had been watching the situation play out. Yet, he soon wore a deathly serious expression. "Please cooperate with us, we need to confirm the current situation." Said Claude. "Tell us where your child is! Or are they still missing?" He glanced at Rashan as he spoke the latter half of his words. The couple froze. "It¡­ it wouldn''t be proper," the father said, his tone faltering. "The children¡­ they don''t like to be disturbed." "We insist," Claude said coldly, his voice cutting through their feeble protests. "Now." The father hesitated, glancing toward the mother, silently pleading for some support. She shook her head imperceptibly, her eyes filled with an unspoken meaning. "Please," the father said at last, his tone almost begging. "Just let them be. They''re safe, I swear it." Claude and Charles exchanged a glance, their suspicion mounting. The atmosphere in the room grew ever more oppressive. Finally, Claude stepped back, his expression blank. "Very well. That is how it is going to be," he said before turning around and speaking to Rashan. "We''ll go and check with the other families.." Claude exchanged a glance with Charles, his sharp gaze flicking toward Rashan, who stood at a distance, his expression guarded. They visited more homes, each with similar accounts: children returned, now playing with their friends outside. Yet none of the parents volunteered to bring the children to them. Outside the village, the two men stood on a low hill, gazing back at the settlement. "Dammit!" Charles exclaimed, raking a hand through his hair. "We''ve been running for over a day, and this whole thing''s a waste! A wild goose chase!" He sighed heavily. "Guess it''s back to Elysium, this mission''s a bust. Let''s hope our next isn''t another false alarm." Claude, however, remained silent, his brows furrowed in thought. Something gnawed at him. "What is it?" Charles asked, noticing the intensity in his companion''s expression. "The lamp," Claude said slowly. "Why didn''t we check the lamp inside the village?" Charles frowned. "Probably slipped our minds. Can you blame us, though? With how this turned out¡­" "No," Claude muttered, almost to himself. "We also failed to properly press those parents on their obviously contradicting words. And, after they refused to say anything we just accepted it and left?" His hand reached into the satchel slung over Charles'' shoulder, retrieving a wooden box. Opening it, he pulled out a sheet of parchment bearing the details of their target. Void Spawn: The Maskworn Attributes: The Maskworn is a highly adaptive parasitic entity capable of mimicking human appearance. It can dull cognitive and emotional responses in prey, subtly manipulating behaviours to avoid detection. While it excels at outwardly replicating a human form, its mimicry is limited to physical appearance; it cannot imitate memories, personality, or complex emotional nuances. Habits: The Maskworn predominantly prey on children, as their developing neural tissue is considered a delicacy by the creature. Despite this preference, the Maskworn is not bound by exclusivity; in a state of starvation, it will feed indiscriminately on any living creature within its vicinity. Its predatory behaviour is opportunistic, driven by survival. Weaknesses: The creature is notably inept in direct physical confrontations. Its survival instincts are governed by extreme cowardice, often choosing evasion and deception over aggression when faced with a threat. This vulnerability makes it highly dependent on subterfuge and stealth. Detection Protocols: Effective identification of the Maskworn relies on a detailed analysis of behaviour in comparison to the individual it is attempting to replicate. Discrepancies in personal history, emotional responses, or behavioural patterns are reliable indicators of its presence. Caution is advised, as the creature may attempt to manipulate or obscure such inconsistencies through psychological interference. [Granary] Charles'' eyes widened as he glanced at the paper, then at the silent Claude holding it. "You¡ª" he stammered. "You don''t mean to say that the moment we stepped into the village, we were already being affected by the... Maskworn?" Claude''s only response was a nod. His eyes swept across the forest surrounding them, its towering trees and tangled underbrush encircling them. Charles followed his gaze, peering into the dense lattice of trees and shadows. He squinted, but the depths of the forest revealed nothing but darkness. "The forest," Claude murmured. "The what?" Charles turned to him, confusion etched on his face. Claude''s placid expression barely shifted as he glanced at Charles. "The forest. Do you not remember what we heard when we first arrived?" Charles blinked, his mind scrambling. Then, as if a spark ignited within him, realisation dawned. "Yes! That laughter! But if there are no children in the village, who was laughing out there? Was that when we got affected?" His voice rose and he clenched his fists. "We have to investigate¡ª" But his words trailed off as he noticed Claude was no longer standing beside him. Spinning around, he caught sight of Claude''s figure slipping deeper into the woods, his silhouette fading into the murky distance. "Wait! Hold up! I''m your partner! You can''t just run off without me!" Charles cried, his voice laced with indignation as he gave chase. In his haste, he stumbled over a protruding root, nearly faceplanting before righting himself with a yelp of frustration. By the time Charles caught up, Claude was walking at an unhurried pace, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The two pressed on in silence, weaving their way through the labyrinth of trees in search of the laughter that had greeted them upon their arrival. Charles carried the Lamp of Misery, its dim light almost extinguished by the afternoon sun filtering weakly through the canopy above. Every so often, he muttered softly to the lamp: "In the shadows of love, we sought our escape..." Suddenly, Charles'' startled gasp broke the quiet rhythm of their footsteps. Claude spun around to find Charles frozen in place, staring at the lamp in his hands. Its pale yellow glow had deepened, now suffused with a faint crimson hue. "Woah!" Charles'' eyes widened. "It''s glowing red! We were right! There is something weird going on around here." "Hush!" Claude hissed, raising a finger to his lips. His gaze silenced Charles, who bobbed his head in understanding, though his excitement was evident in his fidgeting fingers. They ventured deeper into the woods, the trees towering higher and the sunlight thinning until the forest floor was bathed in darkness. As they moved, the lamp''s glow intensified, the crimson light bleeding onto their faces.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Charles swallowed hard. "Claude, do you think¡ª" "Quiet," Claude whispered, glancing at the Lamp of Misery, whose glow deepened to a fiery red. As they pressed on, the outlines of a large structure emerged through the trees¡ªa weathered building with a thatched roof, its wood darkened by the relentless march of time. It was an old granary. Yet, it was not the granary that caught the pair''s attention. Instead, it was the silhouettes of several children standing before the building that grasped their vision. Eight in number, their small figures unnaturally still, backs turned to the duo. Crack! Charles stepped on a twig, the sharp sound slicing through the silent air, causing the children''s heads to jerk in unison, as they turned to face them. The children appeared to be between five and ten years of age. Some were boys and some girls, some with brown eyes, others with blue. Each had distinct features, but something about them felt eerily generic. Charles'' breath caught. "They''re the missing children that were reported..." "Who¡ªWho are you? What are you doing here?" one of the boys asked, his blue eyes darting nervously between Claude and Charles. "Damn," Charles muttered, gripping the crimson lamp tighter. "Their disguise really is... flawless." Claude hummed in agreement. Without the lamp''s indication of Voidspawn in the vicinity, it would have been impossible for them to discern the truth. That these weren''t children¡ªthey weren''t even human. "Why are you ignoring us?" A girl shouted, curling a strand of raven-black hair around her finger. "We''re going to tell our parents!" Yet, her shrill words were interrupted by a sharp whistle through the air. Whoosh! A droplet of water pierced her arm. A red mark bloomed for an instant before fading, replaced by a small, oozing wound. The liquid dripping from it wasn''t blood but a viscous, murky purple. Charles swallowed hard. "Damn it. Do we have to fight them?" His voice quivered despite himself. The sight of their childish faces, even knowing their true nature, stabbed at his resolve. But, time offered no respite. The children in front of them understood that their disguise was seen through and the injured girl''s companions let out guttural cries, their faces twisting with rage. As they surged forward, their human forms began to warp. The sclera of their eyes turned an abyssal black, their skin greying and splitting like aged leather. Nails extended into jagged claws, and their lips peeled back into unnatural, too-wide grins. Claude''s mind raced, but a sudden sluggishness overtook him. His thoughts felt burdensome as if they were dragging a massive log behind them. He glanced at the creatures'' glowing black eyes as he remembered their target''s traits. Inhibition of neural processes. Manipulation of a victim''s behaviour. ''So that''s it...'' Claude thought grimly. He tightened his focus, sinking deeper into his mind. Ice spread from his feet, and he propelled himself backwards to evade the monsters'' swipes. With a thought, he conjured several spears of water and hurled them forward. The creatures dodged, their speed like a flash of lightning, six of them splitting off toward Claude while the remaining two charged at Charles. Yet, before the six could reach Claude, their movements stilled. They glanced down in confusion as ice crawled up their legs, locking them in place. Their grins faltered as more spears of water materialized above them, suspended for only a moment before hurtling downward. Squelch! The creatures dropped, their human exteriors dissolving into grotesque, lanky forms. Their grey skin clung tightly to spindly limbs, their elongated jaws filled with needle-like teeth hanging open. Hollow, glowing eyes stared lifelessly as lavender ichor seeped from their wounds. Boom! Behind Claude, a deafening roar split the air. He whirled around to see an inferno raging where Charles had been. "Claude?! Claude?! Help!" Charles'' frantic voice rose above the crackle of flames. "I''m trapped!" Claude sighed, his lips pressing together. Speechless, he condensed a large orb of water above the fire and let it crash down. ''What a waste of mental energy...'' He thought. Hiss! As the flames extinguished, smoke curled into the air. A charred corpse lay smouldering on the ground, its features barely discernible. Beside it was Charles on one knee, drenched but unharmed, his face pale. He offered Claude a sheepish grin. "Thanks..." Charles mumbled as he staggered to his feet holding up the Lamp of Misery as its crimson glow dimmed... [Familiar Foe] "What was that?" Claude''s voice cut through smoke and chaos, glancing at Charles, then at the ravaged land surrounding them. Smoke curled lazily upward from the scorched earth, the acrid smell of charred flesh lingering in the air. Charles exhaled heavily, raking a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "It was just a small trick..." His gaze drifted to the blackened craters and ash-covered debris. "At least it worked. Somewhat...?" Claude''s senses caught a faint scent carried on the breeze, reminiscent of the drinks served at the Red Rooster Inn. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the flask hanging from Charles'' belt. The polished surface was smudged with soot, but the faint gleam of liquid residue around the lip was obvious. ''So that''s how it is...'' The pieces clicked together in Claude''s mind. Charles must have thrown the contents of the flask at the enemy and then ignited it¡ªperhaps with a spell similar to Spark. But why? Why would Charles resort to using such a crude spell? Claude''s thoughts swirled with possibilities, but he swept them aside. He had more important things at hand. Cautiously, they moved among the corpses strewn across the battlefield. Most of their forms now warped into lanky, grey creatures. Their spindly limbs jutted out at unnatural angles, and their eyeless faces bore a blank expression. Claude knelt beside one of the smaller ones. "So this is what became of them," he murmured, more to himself than Charles. He knew these weren''t the children''s corpses, but the fact that the Maskworn had been able to clone them pointed to one simple truth. The children were no more. Nearby, Charles hovered over a larger corpse¡ªthe one he''d blasted apart during the skirmish. It was notably different from the others, its size almost double, its musculature far more defined. "It was clever," Charles muttered. "Pretending to go after you, all the while aiming for me." "Clever, yes." Claude rose to his feet, brushing ash from his hands. "And unsettling..." Other than his encounter against Ag''ourth, this was the only time he had seen Voidspawn display intelligence. Charles nodded, his expression grim. "If that thing was the Maskworn, though, shouldn''t the villagers return to normal? They would no longer be under its control." "That''s the logical conclusion." Claude folded his arms, his brow furrowed. "If the Voidspawn that was warping their minds is dead, their mental anomalies should fade. But..." He trailed off. "But what?" Charles pressed. Claude shook his head, his voice lowering. "It was too easy. The way it targeted you instead of fleeing or fighting to its full strength¡ªit felt like... it wanted to die." His eyes darkened. "And the villagers... their behaviour still doesn''t make sense. Something''s wrong." ----- ---------- ---------------- The two arrived back in the village as the sun began to below the horizon, amber light climbing over the thatched-roof homes. Claude immediately sought out the village chief, who greeted them with the same stiff reluctance he''d shown since their arrival. ''He is still the same...'' Claude pondered. Was the Maskworn truly dead? Or is something else responsible for their behaviour? Regardless, "Gather everyone in the square," ordered Claude. The chief hesitated, his gaze darting around. "Is this truly necessary? Everyone is ready to go rest for the evening..." His words trailed off as he met Claude''s gaze. Sighing and, with evident reluctance, the chief complied. The village bell soon rang out, its hollow reverberation summoning the townsfolk. Slowly, they congregated in the square, murmurs of confusion rippling through the crowd. Claude''s eyes scanned the gathering. "Where are the children?" The chief fidgeted under his gaze. "They''re playing in the woods," he said hastily. "It''s hard to recall them on short notice." Claude stood still, his eyes boring into the chief, yet his mind was anything but calm. ''There were only seven missing children, so where are all the other children...?'' Confusion gnawed at him. After all, a village like this would not just have a handful of children. Charles stepped closer to Claude, lowering his voice. "What are you planning to do?" Claude didn''t answer immediately. "Take out the Lamp of Misery." Charles froze. "W-why? Is everything not back to normal now¡ª?" "Shut up!" Claude interrupted. "Just do what I say." With visible confusion, Charles retrieved the artefact from his satchel. Soon, The Lamp of Misery emerged, its crimson glow particularly piercing in the now shadowed village. ''I knew it...'' Claude sighed. From his understanding, the lamp did not merely indicate the presence of Voidspawn, rather it signalled the presence of anything contaminated by the subspace. And, that would include... cultists. Wasting no time, Claude raised a hand, summoning a tendril of water to ensnare the village chief. The man struggled against the watery grip, shouting in outrage. "This is witchcraft!" Rashan bellowed, his voice cracking. "Release me at once, or I''ll have you reported to the city magistrate!" Claude ignored him, as he conjured another tendril, smaller in size, to pinch at the man''s face. The reaction was immediate. The chief screamed, thrashing violently as the tendril tugged at his skin. Then it happened. With ease, the flesh peeled away. The face beneath was unfamiliar¡ªa middle-aged man with pale, almost waxy skin and striking auburn hair. His lips twisted into a mocking smirk as he ceased his struggling. His demeanour shifted from panic to amusement. "Well, well, well," he drawled. It looks like you figured it out, " he sneered. "Not that it''ll make a difference. All you''ve done is hasten your own demise." Around them, the villagers began to shift. Their faces contorted, skin rippling and reshaping as their true forms emerged. What had once appeared human was now a sea of twisted, unfamiliar faces¡ªeach one alien, each one cold. The auburn-haired man threw his head back in a maniacal laugh. "What did you expect, you meddling scourge? You delayed His descent and thought you''d be spared? Fool! You''ll pay for your sins in blood!"Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. One by one, the crowd''s forms twisted and writhed, their human facades peeling away like molten wax. Their skin turned a sickly, mottled grey and they themselves soon turned into masses of corrupted flesh. Claude recognized these horrors¡ªjust like the ones in Littourborg, their faces unholy to the senses and their frames a plague to the sight. Charles staggered back, clutching the Lamp of Misery as its crimson light intensified, flickering wildly in response to the changing situation. From within Claude''s watery grasp, the auburn-haired man''s body began to crack. A glowing fissure appeared down the centre of his torso, spilling out a pulsating, black ichor. Claude''s pupils dilated in recognition as an eldritch horror clawed its way free. Its form was an amalgamation of jagged limbs and undulating tendrils, its body covered in a carapace that shimmered like liquid obsidian. Multiple glowing, iridescent eyes blinked across its uneven surface, each one staring in a different direction. A gaping maw opened at its stomach, displaying a set of spiral of razor-sharp teeth. "Not again," Claude hissed through clenched teeth, condensing some water around him. He shaped it into a blade and hurled it at the creature''s centre, hoping to end it before it could fully emerge. The blade struck true, slicing into the creature''s midsection¡ªbut the wound closed almost instantly, the inky carapace sealing itself as if mocking his efforts. The monster leapt forward, its tendrils whipping toward Claude, who threw himself backwards; narrowly avoiding a strike that shattered the cobblestones where he''d stood moments before. Soon, the other monsters lumbered forward, the ground rumbling under their towering frames. As Claude took the sight in, he could feel his heart hammering away in his chest. Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Biting his lip, his mind raced to find a way to defeat these cultists. No, perhaps even just survive. Yet, time did not wait for him. Crack! Another tendril from the eldritch horror struck Claude, causing him to leap aside. Yet, the monster did not rest. Again. And, again. It kept striking Claude. Soon, amid his flurry of dodges, he was unable to cope. Another monster''s fist slammed into his flank like a battering ram, driving the air from his lungs. Pain radiated from the point of impact, a searing ache that clawed up his ribs and made his vision blur. Boom! "Heugh!" Claude groaned as a concoction of light-headedness and nausea assaulted him. ''Damn!'' Each shallow breath felt like a dagger pressing between his ribs, but he forced himself to stay upright, teeth gritted against the pain. Taking a deep breath, a glistening field of ice erupted around him, its surface shimmering like polished glass. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Claude''s boots skimmed across the ice; narrowly evading the thunderous fists of the grey giants as they crashed down, shattering the frozen ground in their wake. Crash! Another tendril of the eldritch monster lashed out, causing Claude to lean into a sharp turn. His momentum carried him just out of reach as the tendril struck, leaving a jagged scar on the ice. He pivoted on one foot, his body low, sliding under another massive swing from the giants. Claude then summoned a whip of water, lashing at one of the creature''s legs, causing it to fall onto its knees with a deafening crash, but the others pressed on. A sharp pain flared in his side as a glancing blow from another giant sent him sprawling. Gritting his teeth, he rolled to his feet, blood trickling from a shallow cut. He needed to thin their numbers¡ªfast. He staggered as he tried to steady his gait, recovering from the blow. The injuries he sustained though few were only causing a growing sense of pain, causing his movements to stiffen. His death seemed too inevitable. ''Think Claude! Think!'' Irritation gnawed at his thoughts. ''There has to be something...'' Should he freeze them like he had done in the past? Or, would that waste too much mental energy? After all, he was dealing with dozens of foes here. Claude glanced at the abomination that had crawled its way into reality, he could almost feel its mocking gaze from its numerous eyes. It was toying with him¡ªrelishing the sight of his desperate dance, his futile struggle, his frantic squirming. Despite a sense of humiliation choking him in both body and soul, Claude remained calm, he understood he could not just give up here. At least... not like this. And, then, it clicked into place. A sudden thought snapped into existence. Spreading like weeds in a garden. Stubborn and relentless. ''Wait! I don''t need to freeze them!'' His eyes flicked to the forest behind him. ''I could...'' Without hesitation, Claude dashed on the ice, his boots skidding slightly as he adjusted his stride. The biting wind cut against his face, but he pushed forward, his icy domain constantly encroaching deeper into the forest. The monsters soon followed after, surging forward like an indomitable tide of flesh. Claude''s mind spun, desperate to flesh out this makeshift plan of his. ''The Battle of Alder''s Pass...'' Crack! The sound of a tree falling snapped Claude from his thoughts, as he glanced behind. He saw a tide of grey charge at him, felling any and all obstructions between them. He grit his teeth. ''Come on Claude, you have to think!'' He forced himself back to his thoughts. Back to a story Raymond had once told him. The Battle of Alder''s Pass. It was the night before the Battle of Alder''s Pass. This battle was to decide the fate of the Saint-Aubery Rebellion. Prior to the battle, the Duke''s men had their food stored in a big granary near the battlefield. It was full of sacks of grain, piles of hay, and everything they needed to win the fight. Watching over the granary was a Viscount. Viscount Thierry. A rather high-ranking noble. While the soldiers prepared for battle, the Viscount decided he needed a little break. He left his post, lit his pipe with a match, and leaned against the granary wall, enjoying a moment of peace. Yet, one tiny spark from his match fell to the ground. So small, he didn''t even notice. Yet, the dry hay did. The spark fuelled by the hay grew into a flicker, the flicker into a flame. And the moment the flame licked the grain dust lying nearby, it morphed into a roaring inferno. And, before anyone could stop it, the whole granary went up in a blazing explosion. The soldiers rushed to put out the flames, but it was no use. The food was gone, burned to ash. The next day, when the Duke''s army marched to battle, they were tired, hungry, and discouraged. And, the royal army? They were well-fed and full of energy, allowing them to emerge triumphant in that fateful battle. The Saint-Aubery rebellion fell. Along with the Duke''s ambition, dreams and life. With that tale in mind, Claude soon arrived at his goal. The granary¡ªstill half-rotten and leaning, but perfect for what he needed. Claude threw himself through the doorway, slamming into a support beam to regain his balance. Dust motes swirled in the dim light, disturbed by his sudden entrance. Amid his panting, he surveyed the granary. And, to his relief, he soon found stale grain littering the floor, its sickly sweet scent hanging in the air. A guttural roar pulled him back to the present. The monsters thundered toward the entrance, crashing through the doorway, splintering wood as they came. Their milky, pustule-ridden eyes locking onto him. Claude spun around, his mind racing. He bolted deeper into the granary, not even bothering to glance behind him. Then, with but a thought an orb of water formed in the air before him before he hurled it towards a nearby wall. Bang! The force of the impact exploded outward, scattering planks and debris. Faint silver rays peeked inside as Claude''s escape route opened. Without looking back as he sprinted for the opening, but he could hear the inhuman snarls behind him. After escaping the granary and maintaining a safe distance, Claude turned around sharply, raising his hand once more. "Go to hell!" he whispered, conjuring a small, crackling spark. The spark leapt from his fingers, landing amidst the swirling cloud of disturbed grain dust. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, the air seemed to ignite in a sudden, deafening roar. A fireball erupted, engulfing the creatures in a searing inferno. The force of the explosion hurled Claude forward, sending him sprawling into the forest surrounding the granary. He scrambled to his feet, the heat from the flames warming his body, chasing away the chill of the evening dusk. Turning, he saw the granary consumed by fire. The old structure gave a faint groan before it collapsed inward, sealing the fate of this entrapped within. Before Claude could catch his breath, the now familiar eldritch horror lunged at him, its tendrils spreading wide. And, unlike before, Claude could feel rage in its attacks. He dodged to the side, sending a jet of pressurized water at the creature''s exposed flank. It reeled, but one tendril snapped out, catching his leg and pulling him to the ground. "Darn vermin!" Claude growled, forcing the tendril away with a burst of water. He rolled to his feet, his gaze locking onto the monster''s myriad eyes. He had to end this, and fast. Drawing on the last reserves of his strength, Claude conjured a spiralling torrent of water, wrapping it around the monster''s form. The beast thrashed, its piercing screeches echoing as the water constricted tighter and tighter. But the creature wasn''t done. With a shuddering roar, it shattered the watery prison. In mere moments, a tendril struck Claude, sending him hurtling along the forest floor. Dazed, Claude struggled to his feet, fighting the pain that had set his chest ablaze. Was it merely a fracture? Or a punctured lung? Claude did not know. What he did know was that this was not over. He had to fight. He had to live. Lying on the ground, he raised a trembling arm above. Pulling every droplet of moisture from the air, he created a massive sphere of water above the creature lunging towards him. Claude slammed the sphere down, engulfing the creature in a crashing wave. As the thrashing creature settled into the heart of the ball, Claude summoned another spark, brighter and hotter than before. "Die," he spat, before hurling the spark into the pool. The resulting explosion illuminated the forest that had been forsaken by the retreating sun. Arcs of lightning danced across the creature''s body as it writhed in agony. Its screeches grew weaker, its movements slowing until, finally, it collapsed in a heap of smouldering flesh. This fight... was finally over. [Disguise] The sound of Claude¡¯s ragged breaths filled the air, heavy and uneven, a stark contrast to the stillness around him. He lay sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ground, his chest heaving as pain lanced through his body. Forcing trembling hands against the dirt, he pushed himself up as his panting slowed, though the burn in his muscles persisted. Yet, as he stood, a faint sound drifted into his ears. Thud-Thud! Parting his tousled hair from his eyes, Claude looked up to see Charles rushing toward him. ¡°Claude?! Thank the stars!¡± Charles called out, similarly panting. ¡°You''re okay!¡± Claude didn¡¯t respond. His lips remained sealed as his eyes locked onto Charles. A strange silence stretched between them. The stillness broke when the air near Charles began to warp and twist, as a spear of water materialised beside him. "Woah!" Charles staggered back, hands raised defensively. "What are you doing? You can''t just kill your partner!" Like a silent executioner, the water spear hung in the air, its tip aimed squarely at Charles''s chest. Claude''s shoulders heaved, and his chest rose and fell in uneven gasps. Sweat trickled down his temple, but his eyes, darkened by exhaustion, stayed locked on Charles. "The Maskworn..." he muttered, his voice almost drowned by the pounding in his ears. Charles tilted his head, frowning. "What about it?" "It was described as cowardly..." Claude licked his lips. "And...?" Charles answered, and a dash of unease danced across his features. "Then why did it charge at us? Why did all its clones rush headlong into battle like that?" Claude''s voice rose, each word tempered by a growing clarity. "A Voidspawn like that... it doesn''t fight. It runs. And yet, it attacked us." The spear inched closer as Charles let out a strained chuckle, glancing at it nervously. "We found eight children near the granary," Claude continued, his voice tightening, "but only seven were reported missing." Charles opened his mouth, but Claude didn''t stop. "Not only that..." His gaze bore into Charles, who took an involuntary step back. "But, you haven''t cast a single spell since that fight. Not even against these cultists." Again. Silence. Heavy silence consumed the space around them as Charles stared at Claude, his face morphing between confusion and worry. But, no words ever came out of him. "And finally that lamp¡­" Claude''s eyes flicked towards the scarlet lamp still held by Charles. "Could you explain why it remains lit?" "I think you''re just tired." Charles took a slight step back. "You should take this chance to rest, I''ll try and check the surrounding area for any other cultists." As Charles turned around and began to leave, Claude''s words made him freeze in his tracks. "You have been saying you an awful lot." Claude''s voice dropped. "Tell me Charles¡­ What''s my name?" The air froze. Charles''s eyes widened, then narrowed, his brows knitting together before his lips slowly curled into a smirk. His lips curled into a grin and a laugh erupted from him shattering the fragile silence. "Oh, how clever!" He clapped his hands mockingly. "Truly, you''re sharper than I give you credit for." Claude didn''t flinch, though his chest burned with fatigue. "But look at you," Charles sneered, taking a step forward, his grin widening. "Exhausted. Barely standing. It must be taking everything you''ve got just to keep that little trick of yours going." He gestured to the hovering spear.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Almost in response to his words, Claude''s knees wobbled, his vision blurred, and with a ragged gasp, the water spear collapsed. It splashed to the ground, forming nothing more than a puddle at his feet. Charles''s laughter exploded, wild and unhinged. "See? What did I tell you?" Claude''s fists clenched as he stared at the puddle, yet remained silent as Charles edged closer. Splash! Droplets of water scattered in chaotic arcs as his boots dipped into the puddle, his steps slow, savouring the moment like a predator closing in on cornered prey. But then¡ª Crackle! Lavender sparks exploded in a violent burst before him, arcing across the puddle. Charles barely had time to register the danger before the electricity coursed through his body. He convulsed, collapsing into the water. His once-human form twisted and shifted. His smooth, youthful complexion gave way to a charred, ashen surface. Burn marks etched jagged trails across his body, his flesh scorched black. Charles'' face, now devoid of any human features, revealed hollow eye sockets and a gaunt, skeletal frame. Smoke hissed faintly from his limbs as his body twitched involuntarily. Claude watched from a distance, his breath ragged. "That..." he groaned. "...was a close one." He had bluffed. The Maskworn had underestimated him¡ªperhaps it had assumed Claude could no longer cast any more spells. Yet, Claude wasn''t sure he could have delivered a fatal blow with just a single spear. After all, his opponent was no fool; it wouldn''t simply stand and await its demise. With a grunt of effort, Claude forced himself upright, every muscle protesting. His injuries screamed for rest, but he had no time for such luxuries. His gaze turned toward the forest, the place where the Maskworn and its clones had first appeared. "The lack of blood..." Claude murmured, limping forward, "...and the short window it had to replace Charles... It''s possible he''s still alive." Claude pressed deeper into the forest. His mind buzzed. Each step was a battle against his fatigue and pain. He scanned the forest floor until, at last, his eyes found what they sought: Charles, sprawled and unmoving amid the underbrush. Claude approached cautiously. With but a thought, he summoned a massive hand constructed of water that glided forward, flipping Charles onto his back. The sight made Claude''s stomach churn. Charles lay bloodied and broken. However, fortunately, or unfortunately, his chest was heaving faintly. Charles was still alive. Blood pooled beneath him, staining the dirt, and his limbs were bent at unnatural angles. His face bore deep cuts, and the exposed bone of his shattered arm gleamed under the faint moonlight. Charles coughed violently, crimson spilling from his lips. His unfocused eyes blinked up at the figure looming over him. "Claude...?" His voice was barely a whisper. "Is that you...?" A heavy silence hung between them. The only thing echoing in the gloomy twilight of the forest were painful grunts and ragged gasps. With a soft sigh, Claude answered. "Yes." His words broke the quietude that had encompassed them. That single word seemed to carry the weight of the world as Charles'' lips curled into a bitter smile upon hearing them. "These wounds..." Charles gasped, choking back another cough, "...are too heavy. That damned monster... it didn''t have time to kill me, so it flung me away during the explosion." Claude remained silent, his eyes fixed on the injuries. There was no saving Charles¡ªhis wounds were far too severe. Blood continued to seep from Charles'' mouth, staining his chin. He ignored it, his voice growing faint. "You don''t like me, do you?" He paused for a moment before continuing. "And, you''re not the type to dislike someone for no reason... so, how long did you know it for?" Once, again. A short silence ensued. Brief. Piercing. "Since we met..." Claude muttered, yet it was loud enough to reach Charles who laughed weakly, the sound more pitiful than joyful. "I knew it..." Charles mumbled, his eyes now cast towards the gloomy sky above. Pitter-Patter! Rain slowly began to fall, at first a trickle. Then to a storming downpour. "I''ve always had little talent, you know." Charles¡¯ voice trembled. "Struggled with even the simplest spells. Weak. Cowardly. Greedy... that''s all I ever was." He paused, a faint, bitter smile flickering across his bloodied face. "Then one day, the council came to me. Of all people... me. Poor. Incompetent. Me." He let out a ragged breath, his chest heaving. "They promised me... if I watched you¡ªif I kept an eye on you¡ªthey¡¯d help me." "And they did. For once, I could finally cast something. Just one spell. A simple, useless little spell..." His voice broke as he coughed, crimson spilling from his lips. "Even knowing how dangerous it was, I didn¡¯t care. It was mine. I was finally... a real mage." "But... I regret it," he whispered hoarsely, his tears mingling with the rain and blood on his face. "I should¡¯ve been content. I should¡¯ve stayed where I was. And now..." He let out a shuddering, almost hollow laugh. "Now look at me. Dying in some forgotten village... like this." His gaze turned upward, empty and distant. "I should have..." His voice faltered, the words lingering unfinished as the light faded from his eyes. His words faltered, his breath hitching. Claude watched in silence as Charles'' body grew still. The rise and fall of his chest stopped. His eyes, once brimming with regret, stared glassily at the night sky. Charles was gone. [Report] Claude walked through the streets of Elysium, a small wooden box tucked beneath his arm. His black robe, frayed and torn, fluttered lightly in the wind. Dried blood clung stubbornly to the fabric, leaving dark, crusted patches across his attire. As he moved, he was accompanied by sidelong glances from the passerby. Some looked on with open curiosity; others quickly averted their eyes upon seeing his pathetic appearance. Claude ignored them all. Before long, he stopped before a familiar structure. Above its arched doorway, a faded inscription read: Administrative Hall. With a heave, Claude pushed the heavy doors open. Creak! The sound echoed through the hall, drawing the attention of its sole occupant at this hour. Behind a desk stacked with ledgers and documents, Chang Wei looked up from his work. "Oh?" Chang Wei''s sharp eyes widened slightly. "Claude? Back already? As expected of someone vouched for by Arbiter Zal¡ª" His words faltered as his gaze settled on Claude''s figure. "You''re battered," Chang Wei finally muttered, though the word barely seemed adequate. Claude''s face was pale, almost like ivory. His tousled hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his knuckles were stained with blood¡ªhis own or someone else''s, Chang Wei couldn''t tell. But what struck him most wasn''t the injuries or the grim state of his clothing. It was something else. Claude was alone. "I''ve completed the mission," Claude said flatly, his face blank of all expressions. "I''m here to report." Chang Wei pressed his lips together, gesturing for Claude to continue. "Charles and I arrived at the village where the missing persons were reported. Upon our arrival, the village head claimed there had been a mistake¡ªthat all the missing children had been found." Claude paused briefly as if sorting through his thoughts. "We investigated further, speaking to families who had reported the disappearances. They all corroborated the same story: the children had returned. But something felt... off. Unsatisfied, we expanded our search to the surrounding forest. It was there that we encountered the Maskworn." Chang Wei''s palm tightly gripped against his desk as Claude pressed on. "We fought it, killed it, and returned to the village. That''s when we were ambushed by several Plague Bearers. I... managed to take them down. Barely. But during the chaos, I realised Charles had been replaced¡ªby the Maskworn. It had taken his form earlier, and I hadn''t noticed." For the first time, Claude''s face flickered with emotion¡ªshock, guilt, or perhaps neither? Chang Wei was unable to discern the truth. "We then fought. And, once it died, it reverted to its true form, I found Charles. The real Charles. He''d been gravely injured... and he didn''t make it."This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Silence poured into the hall, filling every corner, every crevice and pressed down like water in a sealed chamber Chang Wei swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I''m sorry, Claude," he murmured. Claude blinked, briefly caught off guard by the sentiment. But before he could respond, Chang Wei shook his head and straightened his posture, forcing composure back into his voice. "You should rest. I''ll forward the mission details to the council." Claude nodded, exhaustion engraved into every inch of his body. Placing the wooden box onto the desk, he turned to leave. "Goodbye..." A soft farewell floated to his ears as he held the doors. With his back still turned, he raised a hand in silent acknowledgement before slipping out of the hall. "And... good luck." Unfortunately, the latter half of his words were not able to reach the intended. ----- ---------- ---------------- Chang Wei moved through the hallways of Qasr-e-Vehem. His stride an uneasy compromise between urgency and normalcy. The corridors, dimly lit by flickering gas lamps¡ªrecent marvels of the School of Energetics¡ªtwisted and turned like veins through a beating heart. At last, he stopped before an unassuming door¡ªidentical to the dozens he had passed. Knock! Knock! "Come in." A deep, weathered voice called from within. Hearing the words, Chang Wei opened the door and stepped inside. The room was modest. Shelves filled with books lined the walls, their spines marked with symbols from a dozen forgotten languages. A single window at the rear offered a view of the central fields of Qasr-e-Vehem, where apprentices currently practised their spells under the watchful eyes of instructors. At the centre of the room sat a large wooden desk, its surface cluttered with scrolls, and ink-stained notes. Behind the desk sat an aged man, his silver hair falling in thin strands over his shoulders. "Arbiter Zal," Chang Wei said, bowing his head respectfully. "Rise," Zal replied, waving a hand dismissively. "No need for formalities. I''m just an old man teetering on the edge of the grave." Chang Wei chuckled lightly, though he knew better than to take the Arbiter''s self-deprecation at face value. The man before him was no ordinary mage. He was a Mage Grandmaster, one of the few who stood at the apex of magic¡ªa figure both revered and feared. "Now," Zal continued, his eyes never leaving the parchment before him, "what brings you here, Chang Wei?" Chang Wei cleared his throat, stepping forward. "This concerns Claude," he began. "The one you brought from Francia?" At the mention of the name, Zal''s hands trembled. "Of course, I remember." Slowly, he raised his gaze. "Speak. What has happened?" Chang Wei recounted every detail of Claude''s mission. "I will submit an official report to the council soon," he concluded, "but I thought it best to inform you first." Zal leaned back in his chair, his expression darkening. "Plague Bearers¡­" he muttered. "They''ve never had an abundance of Sentinels. For them to deploy another... Have they gone mad?" He reached for a scroll on his desk, one that stood out among the rest. Unlike the others, its seal was broken. The title read: Presence of The Brotherhood in Assur. "I thought this mission, though dangerous, would not be life-threatening," Zal continued, his voice heavy with frustration. "Voidspawn are bound by the restrictions of the material plane. Their strength is greatly diminished. A Maskworn should have been manageable for even an apprentice mage..." He trailed off, his gaze falling to the desk as his thoughts turned inward. "Yet, a Sentinel¡­" Zal''s lips pressed into a thin line. He searched for words, finally settling on an expression more suited to their world. "Why loosen a ballista to swat a fly." Unnecessary and wasteful. He exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. ''At least Claude is alive,'' Zal mused silently, relief tempered by the weight of guilt. ''Otherwise, I would never have been able to answer to Raymond in the afterlife¡­'' As for Charles? Zal''s expression hardened. The boy''s death did not trouble him in the slightest. Charles had merely been a spy, planted to watch over Claude. Sparing him had already demanded the last vestiges of compassion Zal possessed¡ªcompassion eroded by years spent as both a mage and an inquisitor. "Thank you for informing me, Chang Wei," Zal finally said, his voice curt. "I will handle this matter personally. You may go." Chang Wei hesitated for a moment but ultimately bowed and left the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind him. Left alone, Zal leaned forward as he stared at the cluttered desk. The Brotherhood in Assur and the sudden surge of activity among the Plague Bearers¡ªit all pointed to something far more sinister brewing beneath the surface. "The future seems as uncertain as it does ominous..." [Reflection] Silence. A piercing stillness enveloped Claude''s bedroom, broken only by the faint creak of wood and the slow, laboured rhythm of his breathing. He lay motionless, his face marred by a frown. The steady rise and fall of his chest served as the only sign of life in the dim room. "Tsk!" Claude clicked his tongue as memories stirred to life in his mind. His thoughts drifted, pulling him back to the events after burying Charles. Most of the houses were modest structures, their thatched roofs sagging slightly under the weight of age and neglect. Worn wooden beams framed the doors and windows. Inside, the homes lay hand-carved furniture, patchwork quilts draped over beds, and shelves lined with clay pots and mismatched utensils. In one house, Claude noticed a small table set for dinner, the food long since gone cold. What had been left¡ªa loaf of bread, a bowl of stew¡ªremained untouched. Another home had children''s toys scattered across the floor, crude wooden carvings of animals and knights, abandoned in a hurry. Yet, the biggest home in the village, the one belonging to the village chief, spoke a completely different tale. Corpses. Numbering in the dozens. If not, more. Men, women, children, even the elderly. Their flesh had withered, taut over skeletal frames, skin discoloured to sickly hues of grey and green. Faces frozen in expressions of terror or anguish stared blankly, their eyes long since claimed by decay. The stench of rot had permeated the air, assaulting Claude''s senses. Maggots writhed in the remnants of soft tissue, and brittle bones poked through tattered clothing, the only remnants of lives now forgotten. It was there, standing amidst the dead, that Claude had finally understood. The missing children. The vanished villagers. Their fates had been sealed long before his arrival. That mission of his... It was pointless from the moment he had been assigned it. Only used to lure him there. And, the result? Sigh. Claude exhaled deeply, the sound breaking the silence. He had known. Deep down, he had known there was something amiss about Charles. Yet, it was not until he remembered Zal''s words, that he knew what was amiss. For now, get adjusted to life here. I''ll inform the council about you. You should be fine but expect an observation period. It did not take long for everything to click into place. Charles had probably been sent by someone, or perhaps even Elysium itself, to watch him.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Despite this revelation, Claude couldn''t muster hatred toward the man. There was only a faint frustration lingering in him. Biting back another sigh, Claude muttered to himself, "A person full of thoughts, ambitions, and dreams. Alive in one moment, gone in the next¡­" Crash! A wave of memories surged through him like a storm, derailing his thoughts, as a scene unfolded within his mind. He lay collapsed against a wall in an underground space, bodies littering the ground around him. Yet, before him, a scarlet rift pulsed into existence. Slowly, it expanded, undulating as though it were a living, breathing entity. Soon, from the rift, an eye emerged¡ªvast and ancient. Its gaze pierced through the fabric of reality as if seeing not just his body, but the very essence of his being. Shatter! The vision fractured and dissolved like broken glass, leaving Claude staring at the ceiling once more. His breathing was uneven now, his hand rising toward the emptiness above him, grasping at something unseen, intangible. "Not this time," he whispered, his voice echoing in the stillness. ----- ---------- ---------------- Under the moon''s silver glow, the remnants of a once-majestic temple sprawled in ruin. Broken columns jutted into the air like the fingers of a corpse, their carvings remained faded but whispered of their forgotten glory. Moss crept across the cracked stone, and the faint trickle of water echoed somewhere in the distance. Crash! The sound shattered the tranquil desolation as a stocky man slammed his fist against a boulder. The rock splintered under the blow, sending shards scattering across the temple floor. His broad shoulders heaved with rage, and his face was obscured by the shadows of his hood. "Blast it!" he roared, his voice raw with fury. "Again! That rat killed another one of us!" "Calm yourself, Philippe," came a measured voice. The speaker, seated on a moss-covered rock nearby, remained partially hidden in shadow. In the moonlight, only the glint of his silvered hair and the faint outline of scarred hands resting on his knees were visible. "How in the devil''s name am I to calm down, Old Yang?" Philippe snapped, turning on the older man. His growl reverberated through the ruins. "Andre is dead! This is the second sentinel we''ve lost!" "And what would you have us do?" another figure interjected, his voice resigned. This one leaned against a broken pillar, his face obscured by shadows. "The rat''s already scurried into the safe embrace of Elysium. We can''t touch him there." The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the night wind. Yang''s voice broke through the silence like a blade through taut fabric. "He''s right," the old man murmured. "Even if he leaves Elysium, it may not matter..." The air itself seemed to twist and writhe, mirroring the unease gripping their hearts as a single, unspoken truth lingered between them. Cultists, no matter how cunning or vicious, could not match the raw power of a mage. Even the most devout among them, those graced by His favour, rarely reached the strength of an Official Mage. The rest? Little better than mortals playing at power. Philippe spat on the ground. "So what? We just let this go? Swallow it, like those fools of Nox?" Yang shifted, the faint moonlight catching the scars that crisscrossed his outstretched hand. His sharp, angular features were partially revealed as he raised his arm and pointed towards a nearby pillar. "We don''t need revenge," he said, his voice low. "We just need to set the stage... and release Him. What we cannot accomplish... He can." All eyes followed his gesture. In the pale moonlight, the pillar he indicated came into view. At the centre of the pillar''s carvings, a phrase stood out: Tamam Shud. (It has ended.) [Old Ones] A small cauldron sat perched on the edge of a polished oak desk. Within it, a bubbling green broth simmered and hissed, faint tendrils of smoke curling upwards. The room was dimly lit, with only a few scattered candles and a single lantern hanging from a brass hook above. Behind the desk, Claude''s brow furrowed. His focus was split between the simmering concoction and a leather-bound book in his hand. His body had largely recovered with the help of some Biomancy mages. Unlike before with Zal, this time, he was conscious when he was being healed, watching as their spells stimulated the recovery of his injured flesh and bones. Currently, he was attempting to replicate, or perhaps even refine, the potions taught to him by Agnes. Hiss! With a faint murmur, the restless mixture in the cauldron began to calm, its once-turbulent surface now smooth and glistening like polished emerald glass. Satisfied, Claude turned another page of his book. Whilst he was concocting his potion, he had thought it would be better to spend his time reading rather than simply wait. His eyes scanned the aged, slightly yellowed parchment. The subspace still remains a largely unknown realm. Where did it come from? What is hidden within it? No one truly knows. All we do know is that subspace is the shadow the material plane casts. As an old Assur proverb says: The brightest light will birth the darkest shadows. Our thoughts, our will, our emotions. All of it is reflected in the dimension known as the subspace. And within the subspace, there is an apex, atop its hierarchy of horrors. Claude''s gaze lingered on the next line. More specifically, entities standing at the top of this realm, existing as the greatest threat to the material world and the rational mind. We call them... the Old Ones. They are the equivalent of gods, wielding unfathomable power over specific domains, driven by a violent lust for the material world. And while few in number, their malevolence and names radiate to worlds and dimensions beyond our knowledge. Name: Zethrax Titles: Lord of the Unending Night, Shadowfiend, Nightstalker... Background: Zethrax, an ancient entity of immense power, wielding dominion over shadows, corrupting the hearts of mortals with whispers from the dark. He once held sway over the Church of Nox, a cult that infiltrated the Imperial Court of the Xi Dynasty after the infamous Eunuch Revolt destabilised the empire. The Church manipulated the weakened court for decades, plunging the dynasty into a reign of terror. However, the Church''s influence was shattered by a coalition of Elysium mages and loyalist forces, who eradicated the cult. All that is left of the Church are rabble dotted around Xi. Name: Kharos Titles: Void Lord, Arbiter of Silence Background: Revered and feared, Kharos is tied to the downfall of Ancient Uru, one of three successor states formed after the collapse of the Usayan Kingdom. The entity''s intervention fractured Uru into the rival states of Marduk and Assur. Much of what is known about Kharos was lost when the Great Library of Uru (or Sathranis, as it was once called) was burned to ash. Today, the Brotherhood of Silence worships Kharos in the shadows of Assur and, to a lesser extent, Marduk. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Name: [???] Title: Prince of Sin Background: No mortal records detail this entity''s origins, purpose, or dominion. Unlike the others, it is worshipped by no known cults, and its influence on Arta is barely detectable. Some say it is the spectre of temptation that corrupts rulers in their dreams, while others claim it exists outside time, a shadow waiting for the perfect moment to step into the world. The sheer lack of evidence regarding its existence has given it a reputation far more terrifying than its peers¡ªa horror that thrives in the absence of understanding. Name: [???] Titles: The Afflicter, The Eternal One, Bringer of Plague and Disasters Background: Little is understood of this being, save for its connection to The Cataclysm. The Plague Bearers, a fanatical order entrenched in Francia, claim it to be their divine master. They whisper that it unleashed the blight that summoned forth The Cataclysm, destroying the Usayan Empire established by Kourosh. Some describe it as a being whose touch brings decay and whose will reshapes the world into a living nightmare. Warning: Speaking or writing these names outside the premises of Elysium is forbidden. High possibility of attracting THEIR attention. Claude''s eyes lingered on the words as they resonated in his mind. The Cataclysm. The phrase brought to memory the texts he had read in Littourbourg. "Is that not when something was summoned to Arta? The event that initiated the Missing Millenium?" He exhaled slowly, his free hand tapping a steady rhythm on the desk, his mind lost in a mire of thoughts. In that previous world, when he had read that name... Why did he not attract His attention? Or had he? And, that eye he had seen in Littourborg¡­ was that the same thing that had brought forth The Cataclysm? The Afflicter? The question gnawed at the edges of Claude''s mind. And, most troubling of all¡­ Why did I see that? His thoughts circled back to Littourbourg once again, to the moment he had gazed into the rift and locked eyes with that vast, ancient, and unknowable entity. The memory was burned into his consciousness like an indelible scar. The hand that had been tapping the desk fell still, the faint rhythm fading into the oppressive silence of the room. Only the sound of his own breathing broke the stillness. When he had looked into that eye, he hadn''t just seen the abyss. He had seen¡­ himself. More specifically, his life. Fragments of it, scattered like shards of a shattered mirror. Different versions of himself walking paths he had never known. He saw himself as a child, slain during the attack on his village. Another version, where the attack never came, and his life remained unscarred by tragedy. Yet another, where he never became a mage but followed Raymond''s referral to the Royal Academy of Francia, only to rise through its ranks and join Elysium as an associate professor. And more... He saw himself living through joys and sorrows, struggles and triumphs. He saw himself falling in love, marrying, and raising children. Watching friends grow old, and family die. He saw himself victorious, broken, fulfilled, grieving¡ªand always, at the end of each life, he saw himself die. Over and over again. A thousand cycles of life and death played out before him, like eternal samsara, the endless cycle whispered in the Xi Dynasty. Yet, instead of despair, he felt something else stir deep within. Not fear, nor hopelessness¡ªbut defiance. His hands gripped the edge of the desk before him. This vision of endless mortality did not terrify him. It only ignited a resolve within him to transcend it. To break free of this endless loop, to overcome it. To overcome Him. After all, what could frighten someone who had already witnessed eternity? His lips pressed into a thin line as the thought crystallized in his mind. Then¡ª Knock-Knock! "Claude, are you in there?" The familiar, muffled voice startled him out of his reverie. His head snapped toward the door, and for a brief moment, he remained frozen, before he was brought back to reality He exhaled slowly, his grip loosening on the edge of the desk. "Just a moment," he called back. [Zal] Creak! Claude opened the door, allowing the afternoon sunlight to spill into his home. The warm glow swept across the sparsely furnished room, dispelling its usual chill and giving life to its muted interior. And, standing at the threshold was a familiar figure. "Ah, good afternoon, Claude." Zal offered a genial smile, nodding slightly. "May I come in? There''s something I need to discuss with you." Claude paused, narrowing his eyes at the unexpected request, before stepping aside and gesturing for the old man to enter. The two moved to the study, where Claude seated himself behind a plain wooden desk, its surface scattered with parchments and vials. Across from him, Zal lowered himself into a cushioned armchair, its fabric worn but comfortable. "I haven''t seen you since you brought me here..." Claude broke the silence. "Why have you come now?" "It''s about that mission," Zal admitted with a sigh. "You might have guessed, but the reason you were sent on it was to determine whether you had... ties to a cult." Claude''s eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming softly against the desk. "And why, pray tell, would a mage ever become a cultist?" His voice carried a note of dry amusement, though his thoughts churned beneath the surface. For Claude, the idea seemed absurd. Mages were beings of reason and logic. Their power was knowledge, knowledge of the rules that operated the world around them. Their very nature stood in opposition to the chaotic and unpredictable essence of the subspace. To them, the subspace was a realm of chaos, its influence alien and revolting to any mage who valued their sanity. "The very notion is absurd," Claude continued, a soft chuckle escaping him. "It would be like asking a mathematician to seek solace in literature." "I would have been inclined to agree with you." Zal''s tone shifted, more serious now. "If it hadn''t been for that incident." He leaned back slightly, his gaze distant. Claude raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. He hadn''t expected an answer. Yet Zal seemed unwilling to elaborate further, leaving the room momentarily steeped in an uneasy quiet. "Well," Zal broke the silence with a smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes. "Now that you''ve completed the mission, you''re officially a member of Elysium." Claude leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "Is there anything special about that?" "At the very least, you won''t be under constant observation anymore," Zal replied with a wry grin. An awkward silence lingered between them, both men seemingly avoiding the mention of a particular name. Finally, Zal''s gaze shifted to the collection of vials and beakers on Claude''s desk. "It seems you''ve taken a liking to herbology," he remarked, his tone almost casual. "Have you considered joining the School of Biomancy?" Claude shook his head firmly. "No. As fascinating as it is, I believe it''s wiser to focus on Energetics for now." "Ah, as expected of that blasted fool''s disciple," Zal muttered, though his words carried no real malice.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Claude''s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the remark. So my hunch was correct... he thought. Zal did know Raymond. Still, the exact nature of their connection remained unclear. Mages, with their lifespans, were enigmas of time. An apprentice might reach a century, while an official mage could easily surpass two. Yet the higher echelons¡ªthe Grandmasters and Lords¡ªwere mysteries even to their peers. How long could they truly live? And how had Zal and Raymond''s paths crossed? Claude glanced at the old man but chose not to press. ''Never mind... I doubt I''d get an answer even if I asked.'' "Do you have any thoughts on how to test these potions?" Zal''s voice broke through Claude''s thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Claude shook his head slightly, a faint frown crossing his face. A lack of test subjects had always been one of the obstacles preventing him from recreating the potions even in Littourbourg. Despite gathering the necessary ingredients, he''d been unable to proceed. After all, he couldn''t very well test them on himself. And animals¡ªwhile useful in some experiments¡ªwouldn''t serve as an accurate enough model for the effects he anticipated. "Well, you''re in luck!" Zal''s smirk widened as he crossed his arms. "Now that you''ve passed the test, you can access more of Elysium''s resources." Claude tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "That means," Zal continued, "you can head to the Resource Department and request what you need. Of course, they''ll decide whether your requests are reasonable, so don''t ask for anything outrageous." Claude''s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed this new piece of information. "And... does that include people?" "Of course!" Zal answered without hesitation. "Criminals and cultists captured by non-mage forces¡ªmostly the major nations on Arta¡ªare often handed over to Elysium. They come alongside other resources, like rare ingredients and materials." "Like a protection fee?" Claude asked, his voice even, though an odd feeling settled in his chest. To him, it seemed less like a partnership and more akin to extortion. Why did Elysium seem similar to those underground gangs like the Grey Falcons? "You could say that," Zal replied with a shrug, his tone casual, as though the comparison didn''t trouble him in the slightest. Claude fell silent, his thoughts spinning. After a moment, he shook his head and changed the subject. "Surely I''ll need to offer something in exchange for these resources?" "Technically... no," Zal said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "As a member of Elysium, you''ll be assigned missions regularly by the Administrative Department. Complete those, and you''ll earn the right to make requests." Zal leaned back slightly, his expression softening as he explained further. "What you can ask for depends on a few factors: your rank as a mage, your discipline in completing assignments, and, of course, the availability of what you''re asking for." Claude gave a slow nod, though Zal wasn''t finished. "Don''t worry," the older man added, waving a hand dismissively. "None of your future missions will be as dangerous as the last. Most of the time, you''ll assist higher-level mages with their research, search for rare resources, or participate in diplomatic efforts to expand Elysium''s influence among the nations." "Diplomatic efforts?" Claude raised an eyebrow. "I assume that''s just a polite way of saying intimidation." Zal chuckled, a low, amused sound. "You catch on quickly. But isn''t intimidation just another tool of influence? Consider it part of the job." "There always has to be a price."Claude sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Doesn''t there...?" Zal rose from his seat, stretching his back with a faint groan. "That''s the way of the world, Claude. You''ll get used to it¡ªor you won''t. Either way, you''ve proven yourself capable, and that''s what matters." He adjusted his coat and turned toward the door. "Well, I''ve taken enough of your time. I''ll leave you to your potions and your musings. Until next time, Claude." With that, Zal exited, his footsteps echoing down the hallway until they faded into silence. Claude remained seated, his gaze fixed on the scattered vials and notes on his desk. The conversation replayed in his mind, each word tinged with implications he couldn''t ignore. Criminals and cultists¡­ resources to be used. Missions as currency. Protection fees... or was it a tribute? He drummed his fingers against the desk, a habit of his when lost in thought. For all its structure and grandeur, was Elysium truly any less ruthless than those cultists it so despised? But that was a concern for another day. Claude sighed, brushing those thoughts aside for now. There were potions to test, mysteries to solve, and an ever-deepening web of intrigue to navigate. [Transcendence (1/2)] Several months had passed since Claude''s conversation with Zal. Claude stood in a special chamber deep within Qasr-e-Vehem. The room was a combination of a prison and a laboratory. Lined with cold stone walls interspersed with cells. The air carried a faintly metallic tang, mingling with the aroma of potions brewing on cluttered workbenches. Glass vials, strange herbs, and various tools lay scattered amidst a dim, flickering light. Before Claude knelt a dishevelled, pudgy excuse of a man. His skin was slightly tanned with tousled hair falling over his hollow, terror-stricken eyes. The man gasped for breath, his voice trembling. "P-Please!" He stammered, his words were both disjointed and frantic. "I-I don''t want to die! I¡­" His voice faltered as a glimmer of hope ignited in his gaze. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. "Yes! Lord Mage! I am a Baron of Francia! If you let me go, I can give you my land, my wealth¡­ anything!" Claude did not respond. His expression blank. But, the Baron took no heed of this and continued, desperation tightening his voice. "Gold! Jewels! I¡ªI can offer you alliances! Power beyond your imagination! Just¡­ just spare me!" Nevertheless, Claude''s retained his silence. He already knew the man''s identity. Leonard Moreau, Baron of Francia and former city magistrate of Littorbourg. The Inquisition had rooted him out during their sweep of the city after confirming his ties to the Plague Bearers. Now, the once-proud noble grovelled at Claude''s feet, reduced to this pitiful state. Yet, Claude took no pride in the situation. Instead, he raised a finger and lightly touched Leonard''s forehead. The effect was immediate. Leonard''s eyelids drooped, his body sagging as fatigue overtook him. Binding Dream. This was the third spell Claude had inherited from Raymond, which targeted the various mechanisms within the human body. Once cast, it dulls the senses of the target, coaxing the mind into a state of fatigue. Leonard swayed, his breaths growing shallow and uneven. Claude retrieved a small green vial from a nearby table and handed it to the man. "Drink," he commanded curtly. Barely conscious, Leonard grasped the vial with trembling hands and tipped it back. The bitter liquid burned his throat, drawing a gagging cough. He clutched at his neck, his face contorting in discomfort. But within moments, vitality began surging back into his limbs, yet he remained hunched over. "Heugh¡ª!" Leonard''s relief was short-lived. Before he could gather himself, Claude''s palm pressed firmly against his head once more. The same spell was cast, but this time, the effect was nullified. Leonard''s mental energy had been replenished, keeping his mind active despite his body''s protests. Satisfied, Claude released him, letting the Baron''s head drop to his chest. He walked to the desk in the corner of the room and picked up a sleek pen¡ªa recent innovation of Elysium. The pen, made from steel and fitted with a reservoir for ink, had replaced the cumbersome quills of the past. Claude began to write: Experiment #37 Observations: The subject displayed identical reactions to the previous eleven trials. Potion effectively restored physical and mental vitality within moments of ingestion. No adverse effects have been observed in this or recent subjects. Notes: Preliminary results suggest the potion''s efficacy for short-term recovery remains consistent. Further testing is required to determine long-term implications. Claude glanced over his shoulder at the other prisoners. They huddled in their cells, their eyes wide with fear, flinching whenever his gaze fell upon them. ''This should suffice,'' he thought, closing his notebook. Yet, as he saw the other prisoners, the initial failures of his experiments lingered in his mind¡ªsubjects who were reduced to hollow shells, their minds irreparably damaged despite their bodies remaining alive. It was only after several visits to the library and careful study that he had refined the formula to its current state. Claude had honestly expected to find more aversion to these actions in him, but, he felt nothing. Like when he killed those cultists in Littorbourg. He should have felt something. And, yet, no spark of humanity or compassion was ever reflected in his thoughts.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Shaking his head, Claude focused on the topic at hand. The potion had little practical application for apprentices. Their limited lifespan and focus on amassing knowledge rendered replacing mental energy unnecessary. Instead of practicing spells they would rather try and advance to Official Mage as soon as possible. "Official Mage¡­" he murmured, his words hanging in the air. The past months had seen his mental energy grow steadily, reaching the peak of what an apprentice could achieve. Now, he stood on the cusp of a metamorphosis. The books he had pored over in the library already hinted at what was to happen now. Transcendence. The moment when an apprentice''s mental energy transcended its limits and they transformed into Official Mages. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. For Claude, advancement was more than a milestone. It was a necessity. Only as an Official Mage could he continue his research, gain more power and uncover the secrets of the Subspace Network. And¡­ immortality. He would be one step closer. Turning his back on the cells, Claude snapped his notebook shut. Without a word, he exited the chamber and closed the door. The echoes of his footsteps fading into the halls of Qasr-e-Vehem. ----- ---------- ---------------- Claude walked through the bustling streets of Elysium. Merchants hawked wares, apprentices hurried with scrolls in hand, and the city''s architecture stood tall and gleaming under the midday sun. Elysium seemed like a paradise at first glance. A sanctuary of knowledge. A bastion of hope. A ladder to power and immortality. And, in some ways, it was true¡ªat least for someone like him. But the longer he stayed, the more he learnt. The more he understood the city''s true nature. Knowledge. It was obsessed with knowledge. Claude had expected this, of course. For Mages, knowledge was power, the cornerstone of their existence. Yet even he had underestimated the extent of their devotion. The moment that cemented this realisation was when he contacted Zal, asking what he ought to do with the corpses from his earlier experiments. Only three words were given as a reply. "Dispose of them." Those words did not stir guilt or shock in Claude¡ªhe felt none¡ªbut rather a cold realisation of the lengths to which Elysium''s scholars would go. They sought knowledge; free from the constraints of society and morality. ''But it''s not like this is a problem for me,'' Claude thought, a fleeting smile crossing his face before fading. ''If this is their way, I will only grow faster.'' As for the subjects of his experiments? He felt no remorse. Most had been criminals, cultists, and the like. The few who might have been falsely accused¡ªwere not of his concern. Claude''s empathy, what little remained of it, had long since withered. He had seen too much in his brief twenty-something years to entertain such luxuries. Power. Immortality. These were the only goals worth pursuing. To that end, everything else¡ªand everyone else¡ªwas meaningless. As Claude manoeuvred through the crowd, snippets of conversation drifted to his ears. "They say a nobleman in Tarsis was found in a canal near his home, his throat slit," muttered a grizzled merchant, adjusting his cap as he loaded crates onto a wagon. Merchants in Elysium were a common sight. Most were directly recruited by Elysium or were the offspring of mages with little to no talent in magic. After all, Elysium had to find a way to gather its own resources. Beside the merchant was a wiry man with sharp features, who grunted in response. "That''s the fifth one this season," the man replied. "That Assur''s getting dangerous, even for the highborn. These cultists sure are bold, taking a life under the gaze of them royals." Claude''s pace slowed. He turned his head slightly, his ears catching every word. "Highborn or not," the grizzled merchant continued, his voice low, "no one''s safe. Rumours say the Brotherhood of Silence is back." "Bah!" the wiry man spat, waving dismissively. "The Inquisition crushed them years ago after that person had joined them. Burned their dens to ash. This is just some other gang trying to scare folk." Nearby, a pair of apprentices hurried past, their robes trailing behind them as they whispered urgently. "Did you hear about Marduk?" one asked, a pale-faced boy clutching a stack of scrolls. "The apprentice who got ambushed?" the other responded, her voice tinged with unease. The boy nodded, his expression grim. "They say it was the Plague Bearers. They''ve grown bolder, striking even at mages." A woman selling roasted chestnuts interjected, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of passersby. "Bold, you say? Stupid is more like it. The Inquisition''s already hunting them down. They''ll hang before the week''s out, mark my words!" "But the cultists keep coming back," a bystander added, shaking his head. "You''d think they''d learn their lesson by now. No one defies Elysium and lives to tell the tale." "Maybe they don''t care about living," another chimed in. "The Plague Bearers worship decay and death. Their whole creed is about bringing the end, not avoiding it." The chestnut seller scoffed, tossing a handful of hot nuts into a paper cone. "Then they''re fools. And fools don''t last long in this world." Elsewhere, another pair of apprentices were engaging in a heated spat. "...but I''m telling you, the research of Elysium is unparalleled," one argued, adjusting his glasses. "Unparalleled? Are you blind?" his companion countered, her arms crossed. "Do you know what they do to their subjects? I heard¡ª" "Enough!" the first scholar snapped, his face flushing. "Knowledge demands sacrifice. The beauty of magic is clearly lost on you. If you''re unwilling to pay the price, your path as a mage may as well be considered done before it has even begun." The woman''s face darkened, but she said nothing more. As Claude walked on, his mind replayed the snippets of conversation. The fear in their voices, the anger, the resignation¡ªit all helped paint a vivid picture of Elysium''s underbelly. A city built on knowledge, yes, but also sacrifice. ''Power...'' He mused. It was a fickle little thing. Coveted by all, but understood by few. And as he turned a corner, disappearing into the maze of streets, he couldn''t help but feel that he was closer to grasping it than most. Official Mage. It was within his reach. [Transcendence (2/2)] Claude returned to his house, the heavy wooden door creaking slightly as he locked it behind him. The dimness of the interior swallowed him whole, with only faint traces of sunlight bleeding through the edges of the blinds. The conversations he had overheard earlier lingered in his mind. ''Experiments. Plague Bearers. The Brotherhood...'' Disregarding the pair of apprentices arguing about the ethics of Elysium, Claude was all but certain that the apprentice that the others had mentioned getting ambushed was him. ''I mean...'' He mused. ''A Mage Apprentice in Marduk getting ambushed by Plague Bearers?'' The description could not be any more familiar to him. After all, that was exactly what happened to him. "But... I did not expect word to spread like that." He muttered. "It seems that this was by no means a common event." And, then there was The Brotherhood. Claude paced slowly, his footsteps muffled by the thick rug beneath him. Snippets of memory surfaced in his mind¡ªfrom that book he had read earlier. The Brotherhood of Silence. It was a cult that venerated the Void Lord. Unlike the Church of Nox, the Brotherhood remained an active presence on the continent of Arta. Still, Claude could not help but wonder who those people were referring to in their conversations. Who had joined The Brotherhood? And why did they seem to care so much? Claude sighed quietly as he went to the small office at the back of the house. The room greeted him like an old friend: cluttered yet familiar, its shadows pooling in the corners. However, his thoughts refused to quiet, circling back to the Brotherhood. ''I just hope whatever they''re planning doesn''t come to affect me...'' He settled into his worn leather chair, lighting the candle on his desk. Littorbourg had been different¡ªhe hadn''t been able to stand idly by, not when their meddling threatened his own life. But now? This wasn''t his battle. He had far more pressing pursuits than chasing after some cultists. As he leaned back, the chair groaned softly beneath his weight. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. ''There is no point in stalling...'' His eyes drifted closed, shutting out the flickers of the candle. For a moment, the silence grew heavier. But Claude welcomed it, sinking deeper into the quiet. Only the soft cadence of his breathing remained, occasionally disrupting the silence of the room. ----- ---------- ---------------- As Claude opened his eyes, the familiar confines of his office were gone. In their place stretched a vast, pitch-black expanse, an infinite void that seemed to swallow all sense of space and time. Claude recognized this place instantly. He had visited this realm once when he had begun his journey as a mage. But, after poring through various books in Elysium, he had managed to place a name to it. The Soul Sea. It was an abstract realm, hidden deep within the minds of all sentient beings. For most, it remained an untouched mystery, but to mages, it was the key to their power¡ªwhere their mental energy took form and could be manipulated. A single thought from Claude sent a ripple through the void. In response, a stream of silvery light surged toward him from the distance, its brilliance cutting through the darkness.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The light stopped just before him, its soft glow illuminating the surrounding expanse. It oscillated gently like a flowing stream. It was no longer the small, thread-like entity he had once seen. Now, it had grown into something far more¡ªa surging river. Writhing and twisting in the void like a living, breathing creature. Its length dwarfed him. If placed back in Littorbourg, it could stretch across half the city. The river''s width was also nothing to scoff at, in Claude''s estimations, three of him could fit between it. ''It''s reached the threshold...'' He pondered. From the information he gathered, he knew what this writhing and twisting meant. When an apprentice''s mental energy reached a threshold, it would trigger a transformation¡ªa metamorphosis. One that marks the transition from Mage Apprentice to Official Mage. ''It''s time.'' With a thought, he stilled the river before him. The energy hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, becoming unnaturally calm. Then, without warning, it began to pulse¡ªexpanding and contracting, back and forth in an unrelenting rhythm. Time seemed to lose all meaning as Claude observed the process. The silver stream morphed ceaselessly, its shape-shifting with each pulse. The transformation had begun. The Soul Sea Claude possessed, like that of all apprentices, was merely a prototype of sorts. Mighty, yet ultimately incomplete. The true Soul Sea referred to the culmination of this current transformation, when the mental energy expanded, condensed, and ultimately transcended its primitive state. Claude watched, unblinking, as the stream of energy continued to evolve, the void around him trembling with anticipation. Whizz! The stream of mental energy spiralled upward, a brilliant silver arc splitting the infinite void above Claude. Its radiance illuminated the darkness of the abstract expanse that was his Soul Sea. Claude observed silently. His mental energy wavered and twisted, flickering between its gaseous state and something denser. Soon, a faint hum resonated in the expanse, the soundless vibration spreading through the void and settling in his consciousness. Claude felt the strain¡ªnot in his body but in his mind. It began as a low, dull ache¡ªa pressure pressing against the edges of his consciousness. But soon, it grew fiercer, like a thousand needles piercing through the fabric of his soul. Claude clutched his immaterial palms, his form trembling as the pain escalated, becoming a jagged storm that tore at him. Time soon unravelled into a meaningless thread for him, the pain so all-encompassing that it blotted out every coherent thought. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever endured¡ªa searing, unrelenting agony that twisted and stretched his consciousness as though it were being wrenched apart strand by strand. It was as if molten iron was being poured into his skull, the heat creeping outward and setting his entire being aflame. Before he could even comprehend this torment, it began to spread. The venomous tide surged outward, tainting every corner of his existence. Transcending the confines of the Soul Sea. Claude''s actual body, in the real world, convulsed. His nerves screamed as if they were being torched by an illusory flame, his muscles locking tight before spasming violently. However, the stream above him suddenly began to collapse inward, folding and twisting into itself, serving to distract him from the pain. ''It''s happening...'' he thought, fighting the pain, his mind tightening around the energy to maintain its shape¡ªpreventing its collapse. The silver stream condensed rapidly, shrinking into a sphere of pulsating light. Its glow grew blinding, yet Claude''s mind could not turn away from the sight. The sphere''s brilliance was all-encompassing, illuminating even the farthest reaches of the Soul Sea. The pressure once again mounted, and an invisible storm brewed within the confines of his mind. Claude''s thoughts wavered, struggling to stay steady. Now, it was no longer pain he was suffering. The sharp, searing agony that had torn through him moments ago began to dull. Instead, it felt like an immovable mountain was resting atop his skull, crushing his every flickering thought. But he pressed on. He could see it. The end of this torturous process. Cracks soon began to appear in the sphere, fine lines of light spidering across its surface. Crack! The sphere ruptured, like shattered glass, its contents spilling forth in every direction. Countless tendrils of liquid silver light arced through the void, surging like streams of water escaping a shattered dam. The energy surged outward, flowing together in chaotic patterns before settling into a shimmering expanse. Claude''s awareness expanded, reaching out to encompass the entire Soul Sea as calm finally pervaded the space. Before him stretched a vast, glimmering lake of silver light. Its surface was smooth and calm, radiating a brilliant glow. Claude''s palms unclenched, his focus easing slightly as he took in the sight. The transformation was complete. Claude reached out with his consciousness, brushing against the lake''s surface. The energy responded immediately, rippling outward as if acknowledging his presence. It was no longer the flimsy, gas-like stream he had once nurtured¡ªit was a sea. Deep and vast. This was the Soul Sea of an Official Mage. [Council] Whispers echoed abound in the grand hall. Within the hall, tiered seating rose steeply from the polished marble floor to the soaring, ornately vaulted ceiling. Flickering torchlight glinted off gilded accents and the intricate carvings that adorned the stone walls. From the highest balcony to the lowest tier, silhouettes filled the rows¡ªit was an ocean of people, an ocean of thoughts, shifting and stirring like waves. Seated on the second tier, a middle-aged man¡ªperhaps in his early thirties¡ªwith neatly combed black hair and piercing green eyes leaned back in his chair. He donned deep indigo robes trimmed with silver embroidery. However, on his chest, a distinct insignia stood out. The emblem bore a six-pointed star, its centre marked by a circle crossed with a diagonal slash with smaller circles adorning each point of the star¡ªa mark that spoke of his identity. An Official Mage. The man shifted in his seat, glancing at the woman beside him. Her brown hair was neatly tied back, and her brown eyes darted around, scanning the crowd. She wore robes similar to his, bearing the same insignia of her rank. "Psst!" He nudged her with an elbow, his voice pitched low. "Cat, any idea what''s going on?" The woman turned to him with a slight frown. "Stop calling me that, Gaspard. My name is Catherine," she said, rolling her eyes. "Fine, Catherine," Gaspard replied with a smirk, though his tone remained hushed. "But honestly, do you know what is happening?" "How should I know?" Catherine heaved a sigh, before crossing her arms and muttering. "I was holed up running calculations when I got the summons. Same as you, apparently." "Calculations?" Gaspard raised an eyebrow. "Don''t tell me you''re still chasing that theory." "What if I am?" Catherine''s gaze flicked downward, her voice softening. "The least I can do is continue his research." For a moment, Gaspard seemed to struggle with a response, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Like smoke, the words he wished to speak eluded him and drifted away. Finally, he slumped back in his seat, exhaling heavily. The quiet tension between them mirrored the solemn air of the room, broken only by the ever-persistent hum of conversation around them. However, the sound of footsteps interrupted their introspection. Tap! Tap! Tap! The sound reverberated through the chamber, drawing everyone''s attention to the stage. Gaspard and Catherine inhaled sharply as they recognised the figure ascending the stage. "Grandmaster Zal..." they breathed in unison, their whispers almost reverent. Despite this, their focus was quickly stolen by the figure walking beside Zal¡ªa face neither of them immediately recognised. "Who is that?" Catherine muttered under her breath; her eyes fixed on the unfamiliar young man standing beside Grandmaster Zal. Gaspard, hearing her question, crossed his arms and leaned slightly toward her, his expression clouded by a deep frown. Heaving a sigh, he glanced at her before answering. "You may not know this. After all, you''re cooped up in your laboratory all the time..." Gaspard said, his tone edged with a faint trace of exasperation. "But that should be... Claude."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "Claude?" Catherine repeated the name, letting it roll off her tongue, but her confusion only deepened. "What''s so special about him?" "He..." Gaspard hesitated, the words seemingly difficult to say. "He''s a mage... inducted from outside Elysium." Catherine''s eyes widened, and a faint tremor ran through her body. She froze, her lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. Gaspard turned to face her fully, concern replacing the frown on his face. "Are you okay¡ª?" His words of concern were abruptly silenced by a booming voice. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Zal began, his voice soft yet resonant enough to reach every corner of the auditorium. "I imagine you''re all quite sick of seeing me on this stage by now." A ripple of polite chuckles ran through the crowd, though the tension in the air refused to dissipate. "Well, fortunately for all of you, this will be brief." Zal''s smile widened, his confidence radiating. "And I am by no means the highlight of today''s meeting." He extended a hand toward Claude, who stood quietly at his side. Murmurs of confusion swept through the chamber like a wave, each seated figure leaning forward slightly, trying to piece together the situation. But as their eyes settled on the young man, the murmurs ceased, replaced by stunned silence. They had all seen it now. The emblem on Claude''s robe¡ªit was an intricate six-pointed star. Gasps escaped from some, and silhouettes rose hesitantly from their seats, each one staring as though hoping to convince themselves it was an illusion. "Yes!" Zal said, clapping his hands together once. "You''ve all noticed, haven''t you? Allow me to confirm your suspicions." He gestured to Claude. "We have a new Official Mage within the folds of Elysium and a new member to be added to the Council of Elysium." "Of course, I believe you also know what that means." Zal paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping the crowd. "Any volunteers to take the young man under their wings?" The Council of Elysium. The governing body that oversaw all magical and political matters within their realm. Membership on the council was not just a position of power¡ªit was a declaration of influence and strength. And now, they had gained a new member. The realisation sent a ripple of unease through the crowd. Their silence only grew. No one spoke, but the oppression in the room was as tangible as the torches'' wavering flames. Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while others sat rigidly still, their eyes locked on the young man before them. Gaspard glanced at Catherine, whose expression was unreadable. He could see the tension in her jaw and the way her hands gripped the edge of her robe tightly. Around them, faint but frantic whispers began to rise. "A wild mage..." Someone murmured. "How could this happen?" "He''s not one of us," another voice hissed. "Are we really going to let that happen again?" They all remembered. Of course, they did. With their exceptional memories, they could not forget the incident, even if they so dearly wished to. The devastation that had followed it still haunted their collective consciousness. But on the stage, neither Zal nor Claude appeared fazed. Zal''s smile never wavered, and Claude''s expression remained calm, his hazel eyes meeting their judgement with a still gaze. "Really? No one?" Zal asked, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. Tradition dictated that a newly inducted Official Mage be invited to join an existing project led by another Official Mage, where they would contribute to ongoing research and gain practical knowledge under a mentor. However, for the first time in years, no one was stepping forward. The silence stretched on. Some turned to glance at one another, waiting for someone¡ªanyone¡ªto speak. The rest? They kept their gazes fixed firmly on the stage; their hands clasped tightly as though to resist the impulse to act. "Well..." Zal''s voice broke through the silence once more, this time with a faint note of mock disappointment. "I suppose that means Claude will have to start his own experiments... or perhaps he could join my¡ª" "Wait!" The single word sliced through the air. All eyes turned toward the source of the voice. Amid the sea of seated figures, Catherine had risen to her feet. Despite her petite frame, she stood tall amid the sea of questioning gazes. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a quiet intensity. "He..." Her voice faltered for a moment before she straightened her shoulders. "He can join my project." A fresh wave of whispers erupted, louder this time, laced with disbelief. Gaspard''s head swivelled between the stage and Catherine, his mouth agape. "Cat, what are you¡ª" She didn''t look at him. Her gaze remained locked on the stage, where Zal''s expression shifted into one of genuine delight. "Wonderful!" Zal exclaimed, clapping his hands together again. "Then it''s decided. Claude will join your project, Catherine." On the stage, Claude turned towards her, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Two souls¡ªone hollow, one burdened with regret¡ªwere now swept onto an unknown path by the relentless tides of fate. [New Spells] In the grand auditorium, the crowd trickled out like the last remnants of a fading tide, muted chatter rising and falling as mages exchanged quiet words. Before the stage, two pairs of hazel eyes met. One tinged with both curiosity and confusion. The other held something far more difficult to decipher. Was it regret? Wariness? Sorrow? No one could tell. "Cough! Hello, Claude..." The woman before Claude broke the silence. "My name is Catherine. I''m an Official Mage under the Department of Energetics." Claude studied her for a moment before offering a slight nod. "Nice to meet you. You already know this, but I''ll introduce myself properly. I am Claude, a newly advanced Official Mage." His words faded into another wave of silence, interrupted only by the distant murmurs of lingering conversations in the hall. "Well..." Catherine exhaled, forcing a weary smile. "Now that you''re part of my project, I''ll send you the necessary textbooks and documents. I''d like you to be ready to contribute to our upcoming experiments as soon as possible." Without waiting for a response, she gave him a curt nod and turned on her heel, striding swiftly toward the auditorium''s exit. Claude stood still, watching her retreating figure. ''What was that...?'' A sense of bewilderment washed over him. He had spoken to Zal beforehand, preparing himself to not get picked for a project. He was confident that he could manage a project independently¡ªone in which he could control the research, decide the direction, and work on his own terms. Now, all of that was gone. "So?" A voice cut through his thoughts. "Enjoyed your talk with your new supervisor?" Claude glanced up to find Zal standing beside him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "Your Excellency." "Damn formalities!" Zal waved his hands dismissively. "Just answer the question, Claude." "Yes," Claude replied simply. "Just ''yes''?" Zal raised a brow. "Come on, I can tell there''s more on your mind than that." Claude let out a faint chuckle, a smirk playing at his lips. "You''re right. I seem to recall someone trying to recruit me for their project earlier." Zal''s eyes widened in mock indignation. "Claude, what are you suggesting? I was only trying to help you fit into Elysium!" Claude shook his head, ignoring the older man''s antics. "Well, everything worked out in the end, I suppose." As much as he appreciated Zal''s concern, he would have preferred to chart his own course. This would have given him the freedom to work his own way. Considering that Zal belonged to the department of Biomancy, Claude would not have gained much from studying under him.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Unless he gave up his current foundation and tried learning anew. Zal let out a quiet hum before murmuring, "You weren''t the only one caught off guard..." Claude frowned. "What do you mean? Is there something unusual about my supervisor?" "Oh?" Zal glanced at him, then shook his head. "Just the idle musings of an old man." "Anyway," Zal continued, shifting the subject, "unfortunate as it is that Catherine snatched you up, we still have other matters to attend to." ----- ---------- ---------------- Following closely behind Zal, Claude ascended the grand staircase of the Qasr-e-Vehem library, his thoughts lingering on what had just transpired. A Tier 1 spell¡­ The revelation had caught him off guard. Moments earlier, Zal had informed him that all newly appointed Official Mages were entitled to learn a single Tier 1 spell upon their initiation. Now, he found himself entering the upper levels of the library, a place few were ever permitted to tread. The Qasr-e-Vehem was a marvel of knowledge, its structure divided into four vast tiers, each more exclusive than the last. The first tier, open to all, housed fundamental knowledge, both magic and non-magic alike¡ªan accessible trove of knowledge for all mages alike. The second tier, restricted to Official Mages, contained more spells, specialised research, and knowledge considered too advanced for Mage Apprentices. The third tier, accessible only to Grandmasters, held the accumulated wisdom of Elysium''s greatest minds¡ªcataclysmic spells, advanced knowledge and records stretching back to the dawn of civilisation. And then, there was the fourth tier. Claude paused at the foot of another staircase, gazing upward. "What''s kept at the highest level?" Zal, who had been leading the way, stopped and followed Claude''s gaze. His expression turned contemplative. "That," he said, "is where the personal research of the Mage Lords is stored." Claude turned back to him. "Mage Lords?" Zal nodded. "Throughout the over two thousand years of recorded magic, there have only been fifteen Mage Lords¡ªindividuals whose strength and knowledge stood unparalleled. Some lived to old age, their wisdom shaping the future of magic. Others¡­ fell in battle against the horrors of the Subspace." Claude remained silent. Mage Lords. It was an abstract term to him. How powerful were they? Claude did not know. Yet, even these beings are subject to the ruthless touch of nature. The passing of time. And, the threat of the Subspace. "But regardless of how they met their end," Zal continued, "their knowledge was preserved here, within Elysium. That is the purpose of magic¡ªto serve the greater truth, even in death." The solemnity of those words caused the air to still for a moment. Leaving Claude to savour the words in his thoughts. ''The purpose of magic...?'' Zal exhaled, breaking the momentary silence. "But that is a long way off for you, Claude. For now, let''s focus on what you can access." They arrived at a reading alcove on the second tier, where stacks of tomes lined the walls. Zal strolled to nearby shelves and browsed them. Returning to Claude with three books in his arms, he spoke. "As an Official Mage, you''ll have access to many spells, but outside of this one privilege, new magic must be earned¡ªeither through research contributions or original discoveries. For now, though, you may choose one from these three." Zal walked to a nearby desk with Claude following behind. Spreading the books out on the desk''s surface, he tapped one of the books. "Storm Surge" ¨C An advanced form of the Spark spell, granting mastery over lightning. Not only could it summon devastating bolts, but it allowed for the fine manipulation of electrical currents, even creating fields of static energy. He moved to the second. "Winter''s Grasp" ¨C A study of the extreme cold. This spell went beyond simple ice conjuration, allowing the user to manipulate temperatures at a molecular level, drawing heat from their surroundings to freeze objects¡ªor even living beings¡ªinstantly. Finally, he placed a hand on the third. "Breath of Plague" ¨C A hybrid spell, that bridged the gap between the Schools of Biomancy and Energetics. It altered the natural composition of air, enabling the creation of colourless, pungent fumes. These fumes can irritate and corrode a victim''s airways. Highly effective in enclosed spaces but dangerous to wield carelessly. [Choice] Claude gazed silently at the three books laid out on the desk, their titles gleaming under the dim light. Storm Surge. This spell was the original form of the Tier 0 spell Spark, which Claude had already mastered. Learning it would undoubtedly be easier than picking up an entirely new spell from scratch, as he was already familiar with some of its underlying principles. Winter''s Grasp. Similar to Storm Surge, this spell would also be easier for Claude to learn. His past experiments with ice-based magic, particularly his various modifications of Water Orb, had given him a strong foundation. Breath of Plague. Unlike the other two, mastering this spell would take far longer. However, it offered something invaluable¡ªthe ability to strike multiple foes simultaneously. Currently, Claude could only engage multiple enemies using brute force, spreading himself thin. With this spell, he could significantly improve his ability to handle fights on multiple fronts. Still... Claude narrowed his eyes. ''I can only pick one...'' He crossed his arms, his fingers restlessly tapping against his sleeve. ''Unless...!'' His gaze snapped to Zal. "You mentioned earlier that novel discoveries could be exchanged for new spells?" Zal raised an eyebrow. "Why, of course, they can." Claude fell silent for a moment before asking, "Could I exchange the formula for a potion to obtain more than one spell?" "That is not impossible..." Zal murmured, stroking his grey beard thoughtfully. "But it depends on the potion in question." Claude gave a slight nod. "The potion I''m offering aids in the recovery of mental energy," he explained before quickly adding, "but it has not been tested on Mage Apprentices yet..." A sigh escaped him as he admitted the flaw. Offering up an incomplete formula was far from ideal, but he had no other choice. As an Official Mage, his increased mental reserves had rendered the potion redundant. Moreover, he lacked the means to test it on Mage Apprentices, preventing him from refining it further. Zal did not answer immediately. He squinted, sinking into contemplation. "May I see the formulation?" Claude did not hesitate, reciting the formula from memory. "One sprig of hyssop, finely crushed. A half-pinch of wood betony. The root of lemon balm, dried for no less than three days, then ground to a fine powder. Pink chamomile, precisely three petals, steeped in boiling water..." He held nothing back. Though he did not fully trust Zal, he knew the man meant him no harm. This exchange would not only secure him another spell but also serve as a test of Zal''s integrity. Despite this, he would not trade any of the advanced knowledge he had learned from the Sacra Machina archives. After all, how was he to explain where he came across such things? Claude had no desire to display the Subspace Network to the mages of Elysium. He could not bear to fathom the consequences of such foolhardy behaviour. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Zal listened intently to Claude''s words before giving a soft a nod. "While this potion has not been tested on Mage Apprentices, it still retains some value. Although Elysium possesses a few potions with similar effects, your choice of herbs is unique." He stroked his beard once more. "This should be sufficient to grant you an additional Tier 1 spell." Claude''s eyes brightened. With this, he would have two spells instead of one. "Normally, Elysium would require formal verification of the potion''s effects," Zal continued before chuckling, his sharp gaze meeting Claude''s. "But... I trust you." ----- ---------- ---------------- Returning from the library, Claude sat behind his desk, several books spread before him. Initially, Claude had decided to learn Winter''s Grasp and Breath of Plague, as they would grant him greater versatility. One would allow him to control the terrain and hinder his foes, while the other would help him combat multiple opponents simultaneously. Both were far more valuable than Storm Surge, which offered only a linear increase in combat strength. Despite this, Zal used up some of his own contributions, allowing Claude to take the third spell as well. The only reason for Zal''s generosity must be his connection to Raymond... which remains a mystery to me. The true nature of their bond seemed even more peculiar considering Zal''s status. A true Mage Grandmaster. Previously, Claude had assumed Zal was merely an Official Mage. Yet, during his time in Elysium, he grew to better understand who Zal was. Arbiter Zal. The Bane of Cultists. High Arbiter of the Inquisition. A Quasi-Mage Lord. This revelation forced him to reconsider how Zal and Raymond had crossed paths. Why would a Grandmaster forge such a bond with a mortal? A bond so strong that he would utter such words to someone merely associated with Raymond. "I trust you." Those words echoed in Claude''s mind. It wasn''t the sentiment itself that unsettled him¡ªit was something else. How many years had it been since someone had given him unreserved trust? How many years had it been since he had someone he could truly call family? Trust. Family. Two things that felt as distant to him as the stars beyond the night sky. He had spent so long walking this path alone, convinced that solitude was his only companion. But what if it didn''t have to be? Was that what Raymond had seen? Was that what he had tried to warn him about? His gaze shifted to the unlit lamp hanging above him. Is this what Raymond meant in his diary when he warned me about this path? If he had chosen differently, would he be walking one of those futures shown to him by that eye? A future with family, friends, joy, and hope? Or was solitude the only thing that awaited him now? "No." Shutting his eyes, he forced the words out. "This is merely the beginning. I will keep growing. Family? Friends? On the journey to seek the truth, they would only be burdens..." Still, even as he said it, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered: Then why does it feel like a loss? Nevertheless, he put those three books away and took out another book he had borrowed from the library. This one was no spell and was instead from the first level of the library, thus requiring no contribution. Its title reflected in Claude''s serene eyes as he traced the spine of the book. Understanding Gravitons and Limitations In The Model¡ªAdrien Cavendish. Turning the page, he scanned through the flood of words that littered the page. Gravitons are the fundamental particles responsible for the force we know as gravity. According to quantum theory, they are massless, neutral particles that travel at the speed of light, mediating the force of gravity between objects with mass. These particles are described as "force carriers," similar to how photons carry the electromagnetic force. In the Standard Model of particle physics, gravitons have yet to be directly observed, but their existence is supported by the theory of quantum gravity. Their theoretical masslessness means that they do not interact with electromagnetic forces or other fundamental forces, making them incredibly elusive to detection. Despite this, gravitons are thought to be the essential building blocks that give rise to the gravitational forces we observe in our universe. ...However, we propose that gravitons may not exist in the capacity we believe them to... [Experiment] The following day, Claude entered the laboratory with his supervisor. Elysium possessed several such rooms, each of which would be allocated to Official Mages. Of course, the equipment inside must be exchanged for or found by the mage themselves. Rows and rows of workbenches lined the room, with the room given light by the large gas lamps that hung from above. Brass instruments gleamed under the flickering light, while glass beakers and tubes reflected a soft amber glow. Catherine stood near one of the workbenches, dressed in a long, dark blue gown with a high collar instead of the standard Elysium attire. A light apron was draped over the front of her clothes. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat bun, though a few strands had slipped free, softening her otherwise sharp features. Claude himself wore a fitted doublet of deep brown, its sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing the crisp linen of his undershirt. He had been greeted beforehand to wear articles of clothing that were tight-fitted, and comfortable, which was to prevent the clothes from getting in the way when experimenting. "Good morning." Catherine greeted, her eyes still darting about, staring at everything other than Claude''s eyes. "I take it that you have gone through the book I had told you to read up on." Claude answered with a slight nod. "Wonderful!" She clapped her hands, her posture slightly relaxing. "Though that book was merely an introduction to the field, it is more than enough for you to grasp the aims of our experiment." "To challenge the existence of Gravitons?" Claude replied, somewhat uncertain as he recalled what he had read last night. Gravitons¡ªparticles believed to make up the force known as Gravity, one of three known fundamental forces of the universe. Yet, oddly enough, the book he had read yesterday seemed to argue that Gravitons do not exist. "Yes. My supervisor and I experimented many years ago." As she mentioned her supervisor, her eyes visibly darkened, but she soon recovered. "It was a simple free-fall experiment." She hurried to a nearby desk, picking up two spheres¡ªone made of brass, the other wood. Relaxing her grip, she released them at the same time. Crash! The pair simultaneously struck the stone floor, chipping it ever so slightly. "But ours was different. We performed ours under very different conditions." She squinted slightly at the fallen objects before looking up. "A vacuum." Claude''s eyes gleamed. ''A vacuum? How did they establish such an environment?'' As Catherine continued speaking, Claude forced himself to stop his pondering. "We found that the results were consistent with all the other free-fall experiments performed prior." She said, her eyes still fixed on the fallen objects. "Do you know why that posed an issue?" Claude paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Unfortunately, no answer presented itself to him. "Do not worry if you are unable to answer it." Catherine glanced at Claude''s face which was knit in confusion, before comforting him. "You haven''t been in contact with this knowledge for long enough." Taking a breath, she continued. "The issue posed was straightforward. If Gravitons truly existed and were physical particles that mediated Gravity... Why do objects still fall in a vacuum?" A look of realisation struck Claude as he heard her question. "That''s right... A vacuum should not accommodate any physical particles..." he muttered. "Precisely. And so, my supervisor and I went on to perform more experiments. My current research revolves around analysing this phenomenon. Just with a bit more precision." Catherine moved across the room, approaching a large workbench where a set of polished brass spheres and finely tuned instruments lay. "We will be working on a more refined version of the famed Cavendish Experiment, as pioneered by His Eminence Cavendish." As she spoke his name, a flash of reverence flickered in her eyes. However, her reverie was short-lived, soon regaining her focus. "Follow me." Catherine motioned to Claude as she began walking to another bench nearby. "Today I will be performing another round of experiments, you need only observe and write down notes regarding the experiment." "This should help you get a better understanding of our project, and the various experimental procedures required for it." Soon, they arrived at their intended destination. It was a large glass box. Inside, a horizontal bar was suspended by a thin wire, with small lead spheres affixed to each end. A sizable, dense gold plate stood between them, held in place by an adjustable mechanism. In addition, a large lead sphere was placed close to one of the smaller spheres, and positioned adjacent to the larger spheres was a pendulum clock. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "This is where the experiment will take place." Catherine tapped on the glass with a fingernail. "The glass used here is a recent advancement from Elysium¡ªseveral times stronger than ordinary glass." She paused for a moment, then added, "Normally, glass is brittle because of the way molten silica cools into a disordered, amorphous state. However, by tempering it in high temperatures before gently cooling it, we can allow the silica to rearrange itself in a more even manner." "This will allow the glass to withstand the pressure gradient formed when creating a vacuum environment, which I already created yesterday, with the help of a spell. And, if you so wish I could teach the spell to you." Claude studied the enclosure with newfound interest. The notion that basic knowledge such as the behaviour of particles in different temperatures could be used to create such a novel technique endlessly fascinated him. Catherine turned back to the experiment. "Today, we are aiming to determine whether this gold plate will interfere with the gravitational attraction between the two spheres." She gestured at the dense slab positioned between them. "I''ve already performed this experiment with other materials¡ªlead, stone¡ªboth in and out of a vacuum. None of them showed any measurable effect on gravity. "This is merely a repeat with gold to verify that the outcome remains consistent across different mediums. If gravity truly does still exist within the system, the large spheres should pull the smaller ones. Which should cause the bar to rotate ever so slightly, twisting the wire suspending it. " She reached for a worn notebook resting on the table and handed it to Claude, along with a pen. "You''ll be recording today''s data." Claude flicked through the pages. The notebook was filled with dense lines of writing, equations squeezed into margins, and precise diagrams illustrating past trials. Many pages were marked with tiny annotations, the ink sometimes smeared from hurried notations. Some sketches depicted previous setups. Others were tables of recorded measurements, neatly organised yet overwhelming in detail. Catherine carefully adjusted the apparatus, using various mechanisms fixed to the external surface of the glass, ensuring that the bar was balanced, and the spheres were still. "We''ll begin now." She stepped back and gently released the suspension, allowing the wire to settle into a neutral position. The bar, now free to move, swung about for a brief while, before hanging motionless. Claude leaned in, staring at the still apparatus. Catherine spoke intermittently, her tone now serious. "The gold plate is precisely five millimetres thick. Distance between each large and small sphere¡ªten centimetres. Note that." Claude quickly scribbled down the information. "The wire''s torsional constant has been calculated from prior trials," Catherine continued. "Now we just need to wait." Together, they observed the slow, swings of the suspended bar. For nearly an hour, Claude and Catherine repeated the experiment, allowing the bar to swing and recording their findings. Claude''s eyes flicked between the setup and his notes. The period of motion was unchanged from previous trials. No unexpected accelerations, no deviations in movement. The gold plate, despite its density, had done nothing to interfere with the attraction between the spheres. Catherine eventually exhaled through her nose and straightened. "As expected," she muttered. "The presence of the gold had no measurable effect. Just like lead. Just like stone." Claude tapped his pen against the notebook. "So this should confirm it¡ªgravitational attraction isn''t affected by physical obstructions." "Exactly," Catherine said. "If gravitons behaved like conventional particles, they should have been blocked or at least scattered by a dense material like gold. But nothing has changed. Gravity behaves as though the plate isn''t there at all." Claude glanced down at his notes, flipping back to the records of previous experiments. The numbers remained consistent, regardless of the material used. If the existence of gravitons was to be upheld, their behaviour would have to be something fundamentally different from other particles. Catherine crossed her arms, staring at the experiment with a thoughtful expression. "If we assume that gravitons exist, then we have to accept that they either pass through matter completely unimpeded or don''t behave as discrete particles at all." Claude nodded slowly. "Which would mean that the entire model of gravity based on them is flawed." Catherine turned to Claude. "Write up the final observations, then clean up the setup. This may not be a new result, but every repeat brings us closer to certainty. To the truth." "The next series of experiments will focus on altering other parameters. For example, heat. Even if Gravitons do exist as tiny particles that can pass through solid media, they should still obey the laws of thermodynamics. Thus, we can test to see if gravity is altered in a closed system when subject to extreme temperatures." "Huh?" Catherine''s breathing hitched, her serious facade cracking slightly. ''Since when was the last time I spoke so much...?'' She glanced at Claude for a moment, a faint hoarseness crawling up her throat. It had been many years since she talked so much. Even with those few she called friends, she would merely have brief conversations, unlike now... Perhaps it was due to her love of these experiments? The joy in confirming her hypotheses and stepping closer to the truth. Or, perhaps this is a sign. Telling her to move on from that day... to make sure that this fresh soul will not have to bear the burdens of his predecessors. After all, is that not why she had picked him to join her project? "That should be it for today. Cough! I''ll send you some more books to read through so you can help more in the following experiments." As she finished speaking, she scurried out of the lab, like a mouse leaving its hole; leaving behind a slightly confused Claude. Nevertheless, Claude soon regained his composure, standing in the silent laboratory. The various experimental equipment reflected in his serene eyes, stirring a sense of fascination in him. ''Knowledge... what a beautiful thing it is.'' Knowledge and power. Every day, he could feel that his desire for both only grew. Still, where would this take him? Claude knew as little as anyone else. However, he could only hope, that he could live a life with few regrets. [Preparation] Time thundered past like a galloping carriage, and before Claude knew it, a year had slipped away. His days were spent buried in experiments, his nights lost in the endless corridors of the library, poring over books. When free, he would retreat to the designated spellcasting chambers of the sprawling marvel that was Qasr-e-Vehem, familiarising himself with his new spells. Now, the final touches of his latest experiment with Catherine were at hand. The lab was eerily silent, save for the rhythmic scratch of his pen against parchment. Seated alone on a vacant bench, Claude remained engrossed in his notes. Scratch! Rustle! "Claude!" A voice sounded from beside him, jolting him from his thoughts. He looked up, only to find Catherine standing beside him. "This should be the last experiment¡ªfor now at least," she announced. Unlike before, her tone with Claude was far more casual. Claude set his pen down. "Any idea when we can start the next one?" Catherine shook her head. "Not yet. First, I need to determine the research direction. Then, I''ll have to consult the council to assess its feasibility. After that, there''s the matter of procuring the necessary equipment¡­" She let out a weary sigh, her right hand coming to rest against the side of her face, fingers pressing lightly against her temple. "Determine the research direction...that reminds me." Said Claude as he leaned back slightly. "Have you read the book Observations From Beyond, written by a man named Arthur Eddington?" "No, why?" Catherine replied, arching an eyebrow. "Well," he leaned back slightly in his seat, "in the book, Eddington mentions measuring and calculating the curvature of light from celestial bodies. But his findings were... odd." Claude closed his notebook with a crisp snap. "The curvature was twice the predicted value." Catherine''s eyes widened slightly. "You mean..." "Yes," Claude affirmed. "This discrepancy could hint at an entirely new understanding of gravity¡ªone where it isn''t composed of physical particles at all. After all, if gravitons truly did exist, their behaviour should directly align with our current models." A heavy silence settled over them as Catherine closed her eyes, contemplating the implications. "...You may have a point," she murmured. "I''ll do some independent reading, gauge the feasibility, and if it holds promise... I''ll proceed with this as the foundation of our future study..." She sighed, meeting his gaze with a tinge of regret. "It might take a while. Half a year at the earliest." "Of course that is fine," Claude replied. "I will spend this time combing through the library to find if there is anything else of value for the experiment." Hearing his words, a glimmer of gratitude flashed across Catherine''s eyes. However, unbeknownst to her, Claude''s eyes gleamed with barely restrained excitement. ''That should leave me enough time...'' This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ----- ---------- ---------------- Back home, Claude shuffled around, closing his doors, bolting them tight, and fastening his windows. Darkness swallowed him and the room alike as he sealed himself off from the outside world. For the first time in years¡ªperhaps longer¡ªa childlike wonder surged through him, electrifying his body and sharpening his mind. He found himself back in his office and sank into his chair. Tap! Tap! Tap! His finger drummed against the wooden desk, his thoughts racing. ''Everything is in place. My suggestion forced Catherine to delay any further experiments, and I''ve already notified Elysium about my absence in the coming months...'' That was right. Claude had planted the idea in Catherine''s mind with one goal in mind: time. Time to deal with something far more pressing. The Subspace Network. Since his advancement to Official Mage, the strange structure that had long lurked within his Soul Sea had begun to shift¡ªchanging in ways he did not yet understand. He had meant to investigate further, but the project had kept him from it. Now, finally, he had the perfect cover. Mages frequently disappeared into months-long research, their disappearances neither unusual nor questioned. And with his experiments stalled, there would be no prying eyes. Better yet, Elysium''s research had birthed certain innovations¡ªtools one would call them. Built to serve Elysium in some ways and fit to serve Claude in others. Clink! Claude reached for a glass bottle on his desk. The bottle was sealed with a cork, and within it sat a peculiar mushroom¡ªits cap a pale, translucent white with streaks of deep violet running like veins along its surface. The stem was short and thick, with tiny fibrous tendrils curling around its base like an infant''s palm, eager to grasp onto something. Twisting the cork free, Claude slid two fingers into the bottle and pulled the fungus out. It felt unnaturally smooth, almost waxy, and gave off a damp, earthy scent. Staring at the thing cradled in his palm, Claude hesitated for a moment before he clenched his teeth. ''I cannot waste this oppurtunity...'' Channelling his Mental Energy, he conjured an ice pick above him. This one was different from the past ones¡ªthis was denser, colder. A numbing chill radiated from it, leeching warmth from the air until the very space around it seemed to freeze. Claude reached for a nearby flask of concentrated ethanol, removing its lid and dipping a swab inside. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the room as he dabbed the soaked swab over a small patch of skin near his vein. Squelch! The ice pick drove into his flesh, carving a thin wound. Crimson ichor welled up and dripped onto his desk. Without hesitation, Claude dismissed the ice pick, sending it clattering into the far corner of the room. He grabbed the mushroom and placed it atop the wound. And, at once, the fungus came to life. Its fibrous roots trembled, then convulsed¡ªbefore twisting downward, burrowing into the open cut. A sickening sensation crawled through Claude''s arm as the roots dug deeper, tunnelling into his bloodstream. He clenched his free fist, resisting the urge to tear it away. Cordyceps somniferis. That was the name of this innovation¡ªa creation of Elysium, first conceived centuries ago by a Biomancy Grandmaster. The fungus latched onto the bloodstream of a person, feeding on metabolic waste while, in return, secreting a steady stream of nutrients to sustain its host. It was an extraordinary boon, extending endurance and eliminating the need for food. Nevertheless, it came with a limit. A person could only harbour the fungus for three years at most. Any longer, the organism would begin to infest the central nervous system, degrading the brain and irreparably damaging the host. Despite this risk, the fungus had allowed coma-ridden patients to survive for extended periods¡ªgranting them a longer window for recovery. For Claude, it would be his lifeline. He exhaled, forcing out the last traces of hesitation. "Alright... It''s time." Closing his eyes, he let his consciousness sink into the depths of his Soul Sea. [A New Journey] As Claude regained his senses, he found himself once more in his Soul Sea. The silver lake of his mental energy shimmered softly in the vast, pitch-black expanse. Gentle ripples spread across its surface. But that was not his focus. Striding through the endless darkness, Claude soon arrived before a familiar sight¡ªThe Subspace Network. The amethyst tree stood more vibrant than ever, its roots entrenched in the void, stretching beyond comprehension. Since his journey to that foreign realm, the resplendent lights that once adorned its leaves had dimmed. But now, their radiance had returned, illuminating the surrounding darkness with an ethereal glow, as if infused with a divine power. Claude''s gaze lingered, a fervent desire igniting within him. ''This is it...'' he thought. Having advanced to an Official Mage, he had come to inspect the Subspace Network, curious to see if it had undergone any changes. And indeed, it had. New information surfaced in his mind. The Network had evolved. More specifically, he could once again travel to another world. But... ''Why did this happen after advancing?'' The question gnawed at him. ''Does my Mental Energy influence it?'' That notion seemed flawed. Mental Energy had only emerged after The Cataclysm¡ªlong after the gods had faded from the world. So why would it affect the workings of a divine creation such as the Subspace Network? But, Claude set the thought aside. There were more pressing matters. The most significant change was that the Subspace Network no longer required his physical body to traverse worlds. Now, he could project only his consciousness through to a different realm, and inhabit the body of a native. This granted not only greater safety but also allowed him to more smoothly integrate into the foreign realm. After all, he couldn''t always rely on deceit to establish an identity. Luck might not be on his side next time. And there was one final change¡ª His control over the Subspace Network had deepened. Taking a slow breath, Claude stepped closer to the colossal tree, his thoughts forming a single command: "Send me to a world where the rate of time flows at least twenty times faster than it does here. And, ensure my designed host is..." Shing! One of the glowing lights flared, expanding in brilliance before launching itself toward him. ----- ---------- ---------------- "Heugh!" With a groan, Claude''s eyes fluttered open, his body tensing as he sat up from his prone position. A dull ache throbbed in his skull. His hand drifted to his temple, massaging it gently¡ªmore an act of habit than an effective remedy. Still, any distraction from the searing pain that clawed at his mind was welcome. Amid his inner turmoil, his gaze wandered across the dimly lit room. The chamber bore the unmistakable grandeur of nobility, albeit restrained. Heavy wooden beams lined the high ceiling, their dark oak adding to the austere atmosphere. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. A tall, narrow window, veiled by thick wool curtains, permitted only slivers of sunlight to enter. The cold stone walls, sparsely adorned, held only a single tapestry¡ªa hunting scene, its colours faded by time. With pressed lips, he glanced at the bed he was currently sitting upon. It was a sturdy four-poster bed, the mattress beneath him was stuffed with straw and covered in soft wool. Rich furs were piled atop the bed, warding off the chill that permeated the air. The scent of burning tallow lingered, the remnants of a candle that had long since been extinguished. Despite this, Claude had little time to admire his surroundings. A fresh wave of pain assaulted him¡ªlike jagged shards of glass being driven into his very skull. Huff! Puff! His laboured breathing echoed in the quiet room. ''So...'' Claude ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair as the agony finally began to subside. ''This is the new world?'' The answer came as his mind flooded with foreign recollections. It was the aftermath of his fusion with the original host''s memories. He was now Claude Talbot, third son of Baron Talbot of Wycombe¡ªa boy who had just succumbed to a fever. Claude resisted the urge to immediately sift through the vast sea of memories. There would be time for that later. For now, he needed to take stock of himself. Pressing his lips together, he reached inward, attempting to summon his Mental Energy. Relief washed over him as he felt that familiar presence, the core of his power still intact. But then¡ª His body stiffened as an unnatural strain coiled around him, his muscles stiffening at the sudden sensation of resistance. ''What was that?'' Claude narrowed his eyes as he wondered. And, after a brief moment of contemplation, realisation dawned upon him. ''It''s this body.'' Unlike his original body, this body was not attuned to Mental Energy. Though he could still cast spells, his capabilities were drastically limited. If his Mental Energy had once been a flowing spring, then this body was a dam¡ªrestricting its movement and bottling its full potential. Whish! Whoosh! Claude grit his teeth as he cast several basic Water Orb spells, determined to understand the limits of this new body. Soon, he determined that, at best, he could wield Mental Energy equivalent to a Mage Apprentice in his current form. However, there was one silver lining. His condensed Mental Energy meant that while his spells would be few, each one would be significantly more potent than when he was a Mage Apprentice. ''But that also means¡­'' Claude clenched his fist, the grim reality settling over him. A memory stirred¡ªof an old book he had read before. One that spoke of the consequences of Mental Energy exposure in non-mages. ''...every time I use magic, this body will weaken.'' How long could this body last? If he pushed too far if he overextended himself, would this body perish in an instant? ''This was an unfortunate oversight¡­'' He exhaled sharply, frustration gnawing at him. He had been far too accustomed to his old self, too reliant on magic to consider such a fundamental flaw. Nevertheless, whilst such a careless mistake seemed ridiculous to Claude, it was indeed his current reality. But brooding would accomplish nothing. ''I just need to calm down¡­'' He forced his tumultuous thoughts into submission. ''There must be a way to strengthen this body. If not, the worst-case scenario is that this journey has been wasted.'' Knock! Knock! A sharp rapping at the wooden door pulled Claude from his reverie. "Master Claude?" A soft voice chirped from beyond the door. Creak! The wooden door yawned open, revealing a hesitant figure lingering at the threshold. After a brief pause, a head cautiously craned into the room¡ªa young girl, no older than sixteen, with chestnut-brown hair neatly braided down her back and striking green eyes. The moment her gaze landed on Claude sitting upright in bed, her expression brightened with relief. "Thank heavens you''re awake!" she gasped, barely restraining a squeal. Realising her slip, she cleared her throat and composed herself, stepping inside. She was modestly dressed¡ªan ankle-length woollen kirtle of deep blue, cinched at the waist with a simple leather belt. Over it, she wore a white linen apron, its edges neatly pressed, and a matching wimple that covered her hair, save for the few wisps that had escaped in her rush. "Master Claude," she scolded, folding her hands in front of her apron. "Why did you go sneaking out like that? And in the rain, no less!" Her words tumbled out in hurried concern, but Claude barely reacted. He simply stared at her, his mind flickering through his newly acquired memories, piecing together who she was. Evelyn. She was a personal maid and caretaker assigned to take care of him. It took only a moment for him to offer a response. "I''m sorry, Evelyn¡­" He dared not speak too much. His mannerisms, his cadence¡ªany misstep could betray him. He had yet to fully integrate with these foreign memories, and until then, it was best to remain reserved. Evelyn sighed, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Thankfully, you are alright." But the worry in her eyes quickly gave way to mild exasperation. "However¡­" She hesitated for a moment, shifting on her feet. "You may need to come at once." Claude caught the flicker of reluctance in her face¡ªshe was clearly unhappy about disturbing someone who had barely recovered from illness. "Sir Walter has been sent by your father." Her voice lowered slightly. "It''s about your brother..." [Frailty] Claude was seated in an armchair that exuded genteel comfort. Its soft cushions gently cradling his frame. He was currently within a guest room of the manor. Its walls were lined with shelves filled with leather-bound books and fine porcelain trinkets, illuminated by the warm ambience of the flickering hearth. Dark wood panelling framed the room, while heavy velvet curtains were draped over the tall windows. Standing beside Claude was Evelyn. Who, unlike before, pressed her gaze against the fine rug that covered the polished floor. Maintaining an uneasy silence. ''So, this is the Sir Walter she mentioned?'' Claude thought, observing the figure standing before him with quiet interest. The man before him, Sir Walter, was a gentleman with an aged complexion¡ªhis silver hair combed back with precise neatness. He wore a formal black suit, his waistcoat, a shade darker than his jacket, clung tightly to his narrow frame. A gold-rimmed monocle hung precariously from his left eye, accentuating the frown that seemed to eternally mar his gaze. "Master Claude," Sir Walter said. His fingers adjusted the monocle, whilst his gaze remained intent upon Claude. "I have come bearing unfortunate news. Master Edmund passed away in recent days following an accident during his weekly horse-riding practice. Your father wishes for you to return to the manor." Claude''s thoughts stilled. The name Master Edmund echoed in his mind and triggered a flood of memories¡ªfleeting scenes, faces, names, emotions¡ªall rushing in with a sense of unreality. He was momentarily lost in the maze of his recollections before realisation struck him like a cold gust. ''So... this Edmund is my older brother...'' He soon began to grasp at the knowledge hidden within the depths of his mind. Baron Talbot had three sons: Henry, Edmund, and Claude. Henry and Claude were sired by the Baron''s first wife, who died shortly after giving birth to Claude. Following her death, the Baron married his mistress, who had given birth to Edmund as his second wife. Henry, the eldest, had died young, succumbing to a debilitating illness, leaving Edmund to inherit his place. Following this, Claude had been sent away to live in the remote home in the farthest reaches of the barony¡ªkept at a distance so as not to disrupt Edmund''s succession. And, yet here Walter was. Bringing back the same boy they had thrown away all those years ago. Claude could feel a rising sense of irony simmering within him. ''Oh, how the endless wheel of fate ceaselessly turns¡ªsuch a pity that the original owner of this body did not live to witness it.'' "Master Claude," Walter continued, twirling his long, silvery moustache, "a guest should not be met with their host''s silence. I thought you would know better." Evelyn, who had been watching the exchange carefully, immediately spoke up. "Sir, Master Claude has just recovered from an illness. Let alone speaking to you, he should be resting¡ª" "Insolent!" Sir Walter snapped, his voice turning sharp. "How dare a mere maid speak back to her betters? Master Claude, you should discipline your servants. This behaviour is unbecoming of a servant in the Talbot household." Hearing the exchange, Claude let out a faint sigh. As memories surged within him, the original Claude''s behaviour became clearer to him. Behaviour belonging to an unpredictable, moody young man who desperately sought to distance himself from a father whom he thought was responsible for the loss of his mother. "Walter," he said, propping up his chin with a hand. "Cease your prattling. It is unbecoming of a servant to speak so freely in their master''s presence." Claude''s words caused their air to briefly still, forcing the other two persons in the room to glance at him. One had a gaze filled with relief, whilst the other had flames threatening to spill out of their eyes. For a moment, Sir Walter''s face flushed crimson, his veins pulsing beneath his skin. His eyes narrowed, gleaming dangerously beneath his monocle, but he chose to say nothing, as though biting back the words that crawled up his tongue. Claude turned his focus inward, away from the rising tension in the room. His mind churning. ''I have no interest in these petty family affairs. I''ve got far more important things to focus on.'' He raised his head slightly, catching Sir Walter''s gaze. "Please return to my father and tell him that I have just recovered from an illness and will require several weeks of rest." His words offered no clear indication of whether he intended to return. ''¡­in a few weeks, I will either be dead from the limitations of this body, or I will have found a solution and left this place behind.'' Claude''s unspoken thoughts sounded from within his head. Walter''s lips twisted into a thin line, but he didn''t argue. Instead, he spat, "Very well. But I''ve brought Sir Alfred along with me. He was instructed by your father to give you some basic Vitalis training. Surely, you would not want to decline your father''s well-wishes." The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Claude''s mind paused at the unfamiliar word, Vitalis. A ripple of confusion passed through him¡ªno memories accompanying it. "So be it," Claude said. "Evelyn, let Sir Alfred settle into one of the spare rooms of the manor." Evelyn hesitated, glancing between Claude and the incensed Sir Walter before sighing and nodding. With a reluctant movement, she turned to leave, but Claude''s voice called her back. "Oh, Evelyn," he said. "Would you also mind showing Sir Walter the way out?" A smile, small and fleeting, tugged at Evelyn''s lips as she heard his words. "Of course, Master Claude." She turned to Walter. "This way, Sir Walter." As the pair exited, the room fell quiet again. Claude sank deeper into his chair, his thoughts clouded with the unfamiliar term Vitalis. Why had this term never appeared in the host''s memories? ----- ---------- ---------------- Sleep, eat, practice spells in secret, then sleep again. That had been Claude''s monotonous routine for the past week. Still, despite his best efforts, his condition continued to worsen with each passing day. Evelyn carefully lifted the spoon to Claude''s lips, her hands trembling as she brought the broth to his parched mouth. He barely had the strength to respond, but he still managed to swallow. The thin liquid warmed his throat, though it did little to soothe the ache that poisoned his body. "I''ve sent so many letters, Master," she murmured, her voice quivering. "I don''t know what else to do. The Baron hasn''t responded to any of my messages, and I''ve been trying to reach a doctor in the town, but..." She trailed off, biting her lip, hesitating for a moment before shaking her head. "I know you''re not well, and... and I can''t just sit here and wait for nothing. I''ll send another letter. I''ll go to town myself if I have to." Silence. It was the only answer she received. Yet, the swallowing of food from Claude was enough to assure that perhaps it was not yet too late. Meanwhile, Claude''s gaze wandered to the ceiling as he processed her words. His thoughts, muddled with fever and exhaustion, stumbled over the inconsistencies he found in his memories. From his understanding, Baron Talbot only had Claude as his last living heir. Perhaps there were some illegitimate children scattered about, but Claude deemed that unlikely. His vague understanding of his stepmother from his memories indicated that should these bastards exist, they were probably forced to drink some poisoned wine. So why would the Baron forgo sending help to his now-only child? Unless¡­ He already had. Cough! A violent, hacking cough suddenly wracked his body, causing the bed to shake under the force of it. His hand trembled as he glanced at his palm, the scarlet streaks of blood staining his skin in vivid contrast to the pale, sickly colour of his fingertips. He clenched his fist. ''Dammit! This body may not hold up any longer...'' "Master Claude!" Evelyn''s panicked voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, her hand already reaching for a handkerchief, dabbing it at the corner of his mouth to catch the blood that dripped from it. Her expression was one of alarm. "Oh, what are we to do? We have no one else in the manor who can help us, and the main residence hasn''t responded to the urgent letters I sent." Evelyn had been the only one sent to tend to Claude after he was placed in the remote manor. As his father''s unfavoured son, no one else was considered worth the expense of travel. Sending a single servant to look after him was already a test of Baron Talbot''s patience. "Evelyn," Claude said, his voice hoarse. He took a slow breath. "What has Mr. Alfred been doing since he arrived here?" "Mr. Alfred?" Evelyn paused, her brow furrowing as she considered. "Oh, yes... Mr. Alfred. He''s mainly been staying in his room. Though he does take the occasional stroll through the town. But... Master, you need rest. Let him focus on his work. Perhaps¡ª" "Can you call him in here?" Claude cut her off, his tone firm despite the fatigue pulling at him. "What?! Why? Master, you should rest; perhaps you could then recover¡ª" Evelyn''s words trailed off as she saw the resolve in his eyes. She hesitated, biting her lip. Evelyn knew she could no longer deceive herself. Claude was likely beyond saving. But still, she nodded in reluctant agreement. "Very well," she said softly. She gave him a final, lingering look before rising from her seat and leaving the room. Minutes passed, though they felt like hours. Claude sat still, his mind adrift, mulling over the strange word Vitalis, which had been floating at the edges of his thoughts ever since Walter mentioned it. But before he could continue his musings, a soft knock at the door interrupted his reverie. Knock-knock! "Come in," Claude replied, his voice soft yet steady. The door creaked open, and in stepped a man with an almost aristocratic air. He was middle-aged, his face weathered, dirty blonde hair, though slightly unkempt, adorned his scalp. His deep blue eyes observed Claude with a mix of curiosity and a touch of pity. Alfred''s attire consisted of a dark brown frock coat, fitted and structured with wide lapels. The coat''s high-low tailcoat design and polished buttons gave it a dignified atmosphere. A black top hat perched proudly atop his head completed the ensemble. "Good afternoon, Master Claude," Alfred greeted him with a slight bow. "As I''m sure you know, my name is Alfred. I have been sent by Lord Talbot to tutor you." Claude gave a weak wave of his hand. "Cough! Please. No need for all that formality," he said. "I heard you were supposed to teach me... regarding Vitalis?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. "You truly don''t know about Vitalis?" He asked a hint of surprise in his tone. "Ah, yes. I forgot about... your situation," he muttered more to himself than Claude. "Well, then," Alfred said, his eyes staring at the frail figure on the bed. "I suppose a demonstration is in order. After all, actions speak louder than words." With a mischievous wink, Alfred took a step back, his fingers snapping crisply. "Close your eyes for a moment, if you would." A soft click rang out from his fingers, and in the instant that followed, a wave of golden light erupted in the room, engulfing everything in its brilliant glow. Claude''s eyes instinctively squeezed shut as the light washed over him. The radiance was warm, almost comforting, but its intensity made it impossible to bear for long. After what seemed like an eternity, the light finally began to fade. Slowly, Claude opened his eyes. His breath caught in his throat. Where once there had only been the two of them, now the room was teeming with golden constructs¡ªsome shaped like pigeons, others like deer, and still others like bears. Each construct glowed with the same brilliant golden energy, their forms translucent yet material. Claude''s eyes narrowed as he took in the surreal scene. The constructs moved with an effortless grace, swirling and gliding through the room like snowflakes caught in a gentle winter breeze. His heart quickened. Vitalis¡ªwhatever it was¡ªwas clearly no simple force. This world before him seemed to hold possibilities far beyond his initial understanding. Perhaps there was more to be gained in the world than he had initially thought. [Vitalis] Breaking the silence, Claude regarded the gentleman before him with an inquisitive gaze. "So this is the Vitalis you spoke of...?" Alfred responded with a humble smile, offering a slight bow. "Yes. But I am merely a novice on the grand path of the Harbinger." Claude''s brow furrowed at the unfamiliar term. Noticing his confusion, Alfred continued. "A Harbinger is one who has mastered their Vitalis¡ªa potent energy that resides deep within the human body." Stepping forward, Alfred clasped his hands behind his back. "Your Lord Father has instructed me to teach you how to harness your own Vitalis. After all, mastery of it is a defining trait of nobility within the realm of Mercia." Mercia. Claude recalled the name from the fragmented memories he had pieced together during his week of confinement. It was the kingdom he now resided in¡ªone of the three major powers on the continent of Avalon. "There are three primary Paths for Harbingers: Withering, Rebirth, and Binding," Alfred explained, paying little heed to Claude''s musings. "The Path of Withering focuses on manipulating the life force of one''s victims. The Path of Rebirth strengthens one''s own vitality, bolstering physical prowess and giving Vitalis physical form. Lastly, the Path of Binding uses Vitalis to control the souls of both the living and the dead." Raising his hand, Alfred summoned a golden construct, taking the shape of a golden fawn, its form shifting as it danced around the room with the others. "As you can see, I follow the Path of Rebirth¡ªa common choice among the nobility of Mercia." With a flick of his wrist, all of the golden energy shattered into shimmering motes before dissipating into the air. He tilted his head slightly. "Did you understand everything up to this point?" Claude barely registered the question, his mind consumed by a newfound hunger for this power. It was unlike Mental Energy, yet it possessed a utility of its own¡ªthe manipulation of the life force itself. Such a notion would have seemed absurd to him mere moments ago. Even Mage Grandmasters could not achieve such a feat, and yet, here in this foreign land, it was commonplace among those who wielded Vitalis. Alfred noted Claude''s distant expression and briefly shook his head. He wasn''t surprised by the lack of reaction. Anyone would be overwhelmed by such revelations¡ªlet alone an unfavored son of a baron, cast to the far reaches of the kingdom. "Nevertheless, before you decide which Path to follow, you must first discover your own Vitalis," Alfred said. "To do so, you will need to calm your mind, enter a meditative state, and use your senses to find an unusual presence near your heart. That will be your Vitalis." Claude hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on Alfred. ''Vitalis... can I even sense it? He seemed to be certain that I can, but what if...'' Vexation threaded through his mind. If his occupation of this body had interfered with the Vitalis within him, maybe he would not be able to sense it. Then, perhaps his secret may be revealed here. That Claude Talbot was long dead, and the one in his place was a foreign soul from a foreign realm. ''But what choice do I have?'' Claude exhaled softly. ''It is not like I will simply wait for death here...'' With a new sense of determination flooding him, he shifted and twisted on his bed until he sat cross-legged. Yet, even the simple act of straightening his posture required an inordinate amount of effort. It was as if his own body was trying to resist his every move. Steadying his breathing, he willed himself into a trance. Time slipped by unnoticed, his focus narrowing to the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the whisper of his breath and his heart so hesitantly knocking against his ribs. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Reaching inward, he searched¡ªexpecting, hoping¡ªto feel something. But there was nothing. No warmth. No flicker of energy. Just emptiness. Furrowing his brow, he tried again. Still, as minutes passed, the void within remained unchanged. Maybe you were right, perhaps you do not have the ability to sense this Vitalis he speaks of. Perhaps your journey in this realm is fated to end here. A small voice resounded in his head. And then, another voice spoke to him. Perhaps this Vitalis does not exist? After all, this alien energy most definitely does not exist in Arta. Maybe what he had just witnessed was a hallucination played by his eyes to give hope to his decaying form. A flicker of frustration ignited within him. Even in this state, he could feel the frailty of his body¡ªit was like a wilting flower, barely clinging to life. But this Vitalis¡­ it offered him hope. If he could use Vitalis to bolster his life force, he would have a chance to extend his time in this world. He could not afford to fail. He would not accept failure. ''No! I cannot give up! This oppurtunity is far too valuable to pass up¡ªWait!'' An idea struck him¡ªa gamble, perhaps, but one he was more than willing to take. Drawing a deep breath, Claude reached inward, tapping into his Mental Energy. Like a flooding river, it coursed through his body, rushing past his heart like a relentless tempest. ''If this Vitalis does truly exist within me, surely it will not be able to hide itself from my Mental Energy...?'' And then, he felt it. Something. Something was there in his chest¡ªhidden, trapped, or simply waiting, he did not know. But he understood what it meant. Opening his eyes, he was met with Alfred''s expectant gaze. "How did it go?" the older man asked. "If you were unable to sense it, don''t be discouraged. Most require weeks before¡ª" His words faltered. At the tip of Claude''s extended finger, a faint, azure energy coiled and flickered like a living flame. For a moment, Alfred could only stare, his left eye twitching. "...that is quite the talent you possess, Master Claude." Claude barely heard him. He gazed at the flickering tendrils of azure energy wisping from his fingertips, mesmerized. It was Vitalis. His Vitalis. A breath left his lips¡ªone he hadn''t realised he was holding. Alfred straightened up, disbelief fading from his complexion. "You are progressing far faster than expected." He said, exhaling softly. "That is... both a blessing and a curse." Claude frowned but said nothing. Alfred exhaled softly. ''Perhaps he truly could change things...'' But he shook the thought from his mind. No. Such dreams had been beaten out of him long ago. If Claude truly wished to rise above this blighted purgatory, he would have to carve the way himself. ----- ---------- ---------------- Whoosh! Standing before a full-length mirror, Claude regarded his reflection. The boy staring back at him could be no older than fourteen, with tousled blonder hair and soft blue eyes. Whilst his complexion was by no means pallid, there was still a faint, lingering pallor to his skin¡ªa subtle dullness, as if the warmth had been drained from it. The rich brown fabric of his waistcoat hugged his frame, its smooth texture catching the light with the faintest sheen. The sharp, tailored cut accentuated the straight lines of his posture, lending him an air of refinement. A single brass button glinted near his ribs. Beneath, the crisp white of his shirt peeked through the open neckline. Claude exhaled slowly. "Whew!" His body had recovered to an acceptable level. Whilst his body would still most likely fall apart in the coming months, it was far better than he had dared to hope for. All thanks to... Vitalis. Even now, he struggled to comprehend it. As Claude had hoped, the moment his Vitalis was awakened, it began to circulate slowly through his veins. Whilst it had plateued from its initial potency, his Vitalis was slowly strengthening him. Nevertheless, he could not help but notice the oddity of his Vitalis. The moment his Mental Energy had come into contact with this foreign force, something unexpected occurred. Rather than clashing, the two energies resonated, intertwining in a way that defied all logic. With each moment, they remained entwined, and an odd transformation took place. Neither force overpowered the other; instead, they expanded, shifting in form. His Mental Energy, already condensed through his metamorphosis into an Official Mage, had condensed even further, growing sharper, denser¡ªstronger. Whilst the change was particularly significant, it was noticable. But that was not all. His very body had been altered. Its natural resistance to Mental Energy had weakened, allowing him to channel it more freely, while his constitution itself had strengthened. Why? What link existed between Mental Energy and Vitalis? And more importantly¡ªwhat was Vitalis? The idea that such a force had resided within him undiscovered for all these years was almost inconceivable. But, here it was, shaping his body, expanding his abilities, rewriting what he had believed possible. Still, lingering on the unknown would accomplish little. For now, his priority was to understand this world, to familiarize himself with its workings. Knock-Knock! The rapping against his door was crisp and familiar, followed swiftly by a voice he recognised at once. "Master Claude? Are you ready?" "Yes, Evelyn. Just a moment." Claude adjusted his vest slightly, stealing a final glance at his reflection before turning toward the door. [Bard] Claude strolled along the marbled path, its polished surface gleaming beneath the soft morning light. Behind him, Evelyn followed like a curious kitten, her vivid eyes darting about, engraving the scenery into her eyes. The town unfolded before them, a picturesque scene lifted straight from an artist''s brush. Rows of brick and timber-framed houses lined the street, their facades adorned with creeping ivy and blooming flower boxes. Cobblestone alleys wound between them, leading to hidden courtyards where wrought-iron lanterns still flickered with the last remnants of candlelight. Some homes sat with thatched roofs and latticed windows, others flaunted large glass panes and gas-lit lamps mounted on sleek, blackened iron posts. The heart of the town was the bustling market square, where voices rose in a lively symphony. Merchants peddled their wares beneath brightly colored awnings, hawking everything from exotic spices to bolts of fine silk. Steam curled into the cool morning air from a street-side vendor''s kettle, the rich aroma of roasted coffee mingling with the scent of fresh apples and cured meats. And looming over the square was a towering clock, its intricate brass gears visible through a glass panel. Claude took in the scene before him, yet a question tugged at his mind, one he had previously been unable to dwell on. "Why did you go sneaking out like that? And in the rain, no less!" Evelyn''s voice echoed in his thoughts. He now understood that the previous Claude¡ªhis original host¡ªhad ventured out into the rain, met his demise, and left this body to be claimed by him. But one detail gnawed at him, standing out like a black sheep among a flock. He had no memory of such an event. Despite inheriting most of the original Claude''s memories, there was nothing about sneaking out into the rain¡ªno reason, no impulse, nothing. It was a void, an absence in an otherwise complete recollection. And for someone who had lived reclusively, barely engaging with the town''s residents, it made even less sense. "Far too many questions surround this new identity of mine..." With a mirthful shake of the head, Claude turned his gaze forward and found himself before a shop. Its weathered signboard swayed gently in the breeze, the words Hawthorne & Sons¡ªPurveyors of Fine Instruments engraved onto its surface. "Evelyn, just wait for me outside," Claude said, upon which Evelyn gave a soft nod of acknowledgement. A brass bell above the door jingled as Claude stepped inside. The scent of parchment and polished wood, mingled with the faintest trace of ink and varnish, greeted him. Glass-fronted cabinets lined the walls, displaying sextants, compasses, and finely crafted lenses, while shelves sagged beneath the weight of various charts, treatises on navigation, and atlases of the known world. A long oak counter stretched across the back of the shop, behind which stood a rather genial-looking clerk¡ªan older gentleman with silver-threaded hair, dressed in a modest waistcoat. The man looked up from an open ledger and smiled. "A fine afternoon to you, young sir. And what might bring you to this humble establishment?" Claude glanced around at the neatly arranged instruments before settling his gaze upon a collection of star charts, their detailed constellations mapped in fine ink upon thick, yellowed parchment. Before he could speak, the clerk chuckled. "Ah, star-gazing¡ªa noble pursuit," he mused, tapping a finger against the counter. "A curious hobby for a young man such as yourself, yet I daresay there are few better pastimes. The heavens, after all, remains an ever-enigmatic mistress." "Indeed," Claude said, offering a polite nod. "I would like to purchase one of these charts. As accurate as possible please." Hearing his words, the clerk hobbled into action, his hand gliding across the glass cabinets before settling on one. He removed the parchment from within and carefully rolled it up before tying it with a silk ribbon. "This is one of our finest. It is said to have been hand-made by a witch doctor over in Northumber," he said, handing it over with a smile. "That will be fifteen shillings." Claude reached into his waistcoat pocket, drawing out a small pouch of coin. ''Despite being an unfavoured child, thankfully, I still have access to some wealth...'' ----- Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ---------- ---------------- Having both left the store and accomplished his goal for the day, Claude found himself wandering the bustling streets. Despite the bright sun hanging overhead, Claude could only feel an ever-growing sense of weakness consuming him. Despite the awakening of his Vitalis, there had been little progress since then. Thus, his body, which was still not adjusted to the load of his Mental Energy, was constantly deteriorating. While he may not die immediately, he could not fathom how much longer he could last. Months? Weeks? Perhaps even less? ''I need to find a way to increase my Vitalis...'' Claude pressed his lips together. ''I cannot simply leave this world without exploring this new power.'' "Master! Master!" Evelyn''s eager voice cut through his thoughts. "Have you heard about it? The Day of the Black Sun is coming up in a few weeks!" She hopped beside him, her hands clutching the star map swinging up in the air in excitement. Claude''s eyes momentarily twitched at her careless behaviour but bit back his words after consideration, instead focusing on her words. "The Day of the Black Sun...?" Claude echoed. "Yes!" Evelyn nodded enthusiastically. "They say on that day, the sun will turn black, plunging the world into momentary darkness!" ''A solar eclipse.'' Claude thought, realising that was most likely what they were calling the Black Sun. Nevertheless, the words stirred something deep in him, yanking his mind back to that other world he had visited. A world of endless darkness, forsaken by the sun. A world that left him with far too many unanswered questions. What exactly was Limbo? What had become of it after his departure? Who¡ªno, what¡ªwas A''gourth? And that golden silhouette he glimpsed before leaving¡­ what was it? He exhaled softly, the thought creeping from his lips before he could stop it. "If possible, I should travel back there once more." "What did you say, Master Claude?" Evelyn perked up, her keen ears catching his murmur. "Never mind." He dismissed it with a shake of his head and turned his gaze toward the large open plaza ahead. At its centre stood a grand marble fountain. The water, clear as crystal, cascaded from the mouth of a masterfully sculpted lion, the droplets catching the morning sun like scattered diamonds. Small bronze cherubs lined the base, their outstretched hands guiding the flow into a broad basin where the coins of wishful passersby glimmered beneath the surface. Before the fountain, a lone figure sat¡ªa bard, if his attire and bearing were any indication. His feathered cap tilted at a roguish angle, and a well-worn cloak draped over his shoulders. Fingers danced across the strings of a lute resting in his lap, plucking out a gentle melody that wove effortlessly into the market''s lively rhythm. Thrum! The sound of a lute rang through the market square. It held a bright yet fleeting note but was swiftly swallowed by the clamour of daily life. "Oh! Ladies and gentlemen of Hawden!" The bard called. A charming smile painted his face, and he swept his arms in a grand flourish. "Would you lovely folks be interested in a tale from the Great William?" His grin wavered as the crowd continued to drift past him, offering only fleeting glances before returning to their business. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly, but he quickly righted himself, clearing his throat. "A tale? What is it about?" A clear and inquisitive voice cut through the growing disappointment curling at the edges of William''s smile. He looked up to find an unusual pair standing before him. The first was a young woman, dressed plainly in a servant''s garb, her expression one of mild curiosity. Beside her stood a young man afflicted with a sickly flush. Still, despite his youth and his obvious frailty, there was something about his gaze¡ªkeen, dissecting¡ªthat made William feel as though he were being weighed on an unseen set of scales. "Ah! Good day, noble sir!" William exclaimed, raising his hand in a flamboyant, if somewhat messy, salute. "The tale I speak of has to do with the upcoming Black Sun." "Just that? How presumptuous of you to call yourself ''Great.''" The girl whispered the remark under her breath, though not quietly enough. William''s ears twitched, and a chuckle escaped him. "Oh, fair lady, I would never limit myself to a single tale! I, the Great William, have travelled from the heart of Wessex, the lands of wild men and warriors, to the frigid depths of Northumber." He cast a dramatic glance toward the sky before leaning in conspiratorially. "But this tale, dear listeners, is no ordinary fable. It is a legend. One that speaks of the Black Sun not as mere celestial fancy, but as an omen." His voice dipped lower, drawing them in. "An omen of what is to come. A prelude, if you will. Foretelling the birth of The Heaven Bleed." Twang! His fingers danced across the lute''s strings, plucking out a solemn melody that threaded through the market''s din like a lover''s whisper. Then, with the ease of a seasoned performer, he began to sing: "Oh, hear ye now, a tale of woe, Of skies once bright, now drowned below. Where heaven''s light was torn in twain, darkness spilling forth like cursed rain." "The Heaven Bleed, the sky did rend, A wound so deep, it would not mend. Through jagged scars, the nightmares came, And none were left to speak their name." "Avalon stood, a realm so grand, Made with the divine''s own guiding hand. With banners held high, their faith held strong, Yet faith alone could not hold back the wrong." "The priests cried out, their prayers were lost, The Emperor fell to winter''s frost. The walls of stone turned into graves, The winds still whisper through the mighty waves." "The Heaven Bleed, the sky did rend, A wound so deep, it would not mend. Through jagged scars, the nightmares came, And none were left to speak their name." "The stars wept blood, the sun grew pale, The moon did hide behind a distant veil. And from the rift, the horrors crept, Where Avalon once stood, the skies soon wept." "Now only death remained, marking the land, A shattered throne, a withered hand. The children ask of days gone by, But only silence answers from the sky." "The Heaven Bleed, the sky did rend, A wound so deep, it would not mend. Through jagged scars, the nightmares came, And none were left to speak their name." "So drink, my friends, and heed this song, The past is dead, but not for long. For when the sky does crack, run and run, do not look back¡­" [Mystery] Clap! Clap! Clap! Applause erupted around the bard as his final note faded into silence. The sudden wave of sound made William flinch, but as he lifted his gaze, he found a growing crowd encircling him. With a flourish, he pushed himself up from the worn wooden stool. As he did, his trousers shifted, rolling slightly up his left leg. A mechanical limb, intricate yet well-worn, glinted for the briefest moment in the sunlight before his trouser leg fell back into place. He adjusted his coat with practiced ease, then swept off his hat in a grand gesture. "Hah! Thank you!" His eyes flashed with surprise before a triumphant grin took its place. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! The Great William has heard your unspoken praises. Your joy, though expected, is still a treasure to behold. Yet, no mere token of gratitude can rival true reward!" Extending his hat toward the crowd, he let the weight of his words settle. One by one, hands reached forward, dropping coins into the worn fabric. His smile never wavered, but his eyes darted across the sea of faces, searching. A lingering thought gnawed at the edges of his mind. Where did that strange pair disappear to¡­? ----- ---------- ---------------- Pacing away from the bustling square, Claude''s mind churned with questions, thoughts frothing and swaying like a restless tide. The Heaven Bleed¡­ The name lingered in his thoughts. ''Was it truly just a legend?'' The crimson imagery, the monsters spoken of in the song¡ªit all bore a troubling resemblance to one thing. The Subspace. Claude shook his head. No. That may just be a coincidence. And besides¡­ there''s a more pressing question. He cast a glance at Evelyn, who walked beside him, her gaze lost in idle daydreams. Softly, he called her name. "Evelyn." "Huh?" She blinked, light returning to her emerald eyes. "Master? Did you call for me?" "Yes." Claude''s voice remained even, though his mind was anything but. "That song we just heard¡­ it mentioned an empire called Avalon. Have you ever come across such a name?" "Avalon?" Evelyn tilted her head before her expression brightened with recognition. "Oh! Yes, of course. Avalon was said to be a mighty empire, forged in fire and blood at the orders of the Machine God Cogus. They say its lands stretched from one end of the continent to the other." She hesitated, then shook her head lightly. "But, of course, that''s just the stuff of myths. If Avalon were real, why is there no mention of it in historical records? And if it had once ruled the continent, why has no trace of its cities or ruins ever been found? In my opinion, Master, Avalon is simply the boast of a long-dead drunkard." Claude barely heard her. Avalon. Cogus. Avalon. Cogus. Avalon. Cogus. The words twisted through his mind like a creeping mist, cold and inescapable. A chill seeped through his body, yet it did not register. It could not. Avalon. Cogus. Avalon. Cogus. Avalon. Cogus. And then¡ªanother name surfaced. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The Sacra Machina. A memory clawed its way into his consciousness. That forsaken land, the ruins where he had spent years. Within the cathedral at its heart, he had pored over every book, every scrap of history the shattered world had left behind. Among those decayed pages, he had read of the Sacra Machina¡ªan order of machine-worshipping devotees who traced their origins back to a nation called Avalon. Claude''s fists clenched. His lips pressed into a thin line. This has to be a coincidence. The Heaven Bleed? He could dismiss it. A mere fable that bore only the faintest resemblance to the Subspace. But Avalon? That name was not so easily ignored. Evelyn had said no evidence of Avalon had ever been found. But Claude knew otherwise. He had likely walked through its ruins and lived within its bones. A cold dread crept up his spine. The implications were absurd. Impossible. And yet¡­ He did not want to think about it. He could not. "I hope this is merely a coincidence." Because if it wasn''t¡­ "Master Claude?" Evelyn''s voice broke through the rising storm of his thoughts. Concern clouded her eyes. "Are you still feeling unwell? Would you like to rest?" "No, that won''t be necessary." Claude forced the words out, shoving the unease aside. Lifting his gaze, he caught sight of the lingering sun hanging in the azure sky. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, tilting his head as he thought. "¡­Evelyn," he finally said. "Would you happen to know of a library nearby?" ----- ---------- ---------------- "The path of a Harbinger is an arduous one," Alfred spoke, pacing leisurely before Claude in the open space of the manor''s guest room. "Merely awakening one''s Vitalis is only the beginning. It may rejuvenate you, bolster your physical strength¡ªbut true mastery lies far beyond that." His gaze flicked toward Claude, who sat in a cushioned armchair, his complexion now a healthy flush. "Harbingers are divided into three tiers: Initiate, Adept, and Paragon. To become an Initiate, an awakened individual must bind their Vitalis to an artefact." Claude''s brows furrowed at the unfamiliar word. "Artefact?" "Yes." Alfred nodded. "An artefact. Scattered across our world, these objects may appear ordinary, yet each holds an extraordinary ability." Reaching into the breast pocket of his shirt, Alfred withdrew a pocket watch, holding it up for Claude to see. It was silver¡ªpolished yet unembellished. Yet, something about it seemed off. The watch face was frozen in time, its hands unmoving. "This artefact is called The Architect''s Watch," Alfred explained. "It once belonged to a famed Mercian architect, commissioned to design a rural retreat for the Mad King decades ago. However, true to his name, the Mad King found the house too small and had the architect executed for the insult." A brief pause. Then, Alfred continued, his tone light despite the morbid tale. "This watch was the architect''s most prized possession, passed down to his firstborn son after his death." Realizing he had digressed, Alfred cleared his throat. "My apologies, Master Claude¡ªI seem to have gone off on a tangent." Claude waved off the apology, his attention still fixed on the motionless watch. "These artefacts, much like Harbingers themselves, fall into three distinct categories: Rebirth, Withering, and Binding." Tucking the watch away, Alfred smiled, his voice tinged with pride. "Upon binding with an artefact, a Harbinger''s Vitalis undergoes a shift, aligning them with one of these three paths. As you might have guessed, this artefact allows me to channel my Vitalis into it, conjuring the life-like constructs you saw earlier. It grants me battle prowess far exceeding that of my fellow Initiates." Claude''s gaze lingered on Alfred''s breast pocket. A flicker of thought crossed his mind before he steadied himself. "These artefacts¡­ where would I procure one? If I cannot advance without one, then it stands to reason I must find one for myself." "Ah¡­" Alfred''s expression turned contemplative. "Master Claude, you are noble-born. Unlike commoners, you need not scour the world for an artefact¡ªyou need only inherit the one passed through your family line." Claude exhaled softly, as if in understanding. "Then my father must currently be in possession of that artefact." "Naturally. That is how noble titles are passed in Mercia. The heir is not determined by birth, but by possession of the family artefact." Alfred chuckled. "Which means, my dear Master Claude, that unless your father bestows it upon you, you will have to wait for his passing to become an Initiate. Of course¡­ you could always seek out an artefact yourself, though I doubt such a search would bear fruit." Silence settled between them. Claude''s gaze sharpened. There was something in Alfred''s tone¡ªsubtle, almost imperceptible. But he heard. A suggestion. A whisper between the lines. Perhaps something more? If the original host of this body had been here¡ªthe young man who resented his father¡ªhe would no doubt be foolish enough to take the bait, to leap toward drastic action. Tap. Tap. Tap. Claude''s fingers drummed idly against the armrest. ''How fascinating¡­ A man goading his employer''s son toward patricide. Now, what could lie behind such absurdity?'' Still, he pushed the thought aside. There was something else he wished to learn¡ªsomething he could ask outright. Claude stilled his fingers. "Say¡­" His tone turned casual. "As my tutor, surely your knowledge extends beyond Vitalis teachings?" Alfred raised a brow, momentarily caught off guard by the shift. Yet, he quickly composed himself. "Naturally. If it is within my knowledge, I will do my utmost to answer your questions." "Good." Claude leaned forward slightly. "Then tell me¡ªwhat do you know of the legends surrounding Avalon?" [Avalon] The air seemed to still as those words left Claude''s lips. He had scoured the town library for any mention of Avalon, yet his search had yielded nothing. While he had anticipated the absence of historical records after Evelyn''s words, the complete lack of even a passing mention struck him like a silent condemnation. No legends. No poems. No children''s tales. It was as though Avalon had been excised from history, erased with such thoroughness that it made him question whether it had ever existed at all. To an unknowing observer, this absence would be proof enough that Avalon was nothing more than a fabrication, a story spun by idle dreamers and lost to time. But Claude knew better. Thus, he had been forced to resort to other methods¡­ Even now, as he studied his would-be mentor, he saw the telltale signs of an internal battle waging behind Alfred''s eyes. Confusion twisted into doubt, doubt into something sharper¡ªalertness, wariness, calculation. ''What a fascinating reaction to such a simple question.'' Claude''s curiosity deepened. His instincts whispered that Alfred knew more than he let on¡ªperhaps far more than Claude had initially expected. On the other hand, Alfred soon broke free of his reverie, his gaze darting about the room before locking onto Claude. "Why...?" The word reluctantly slipped from Alfred''s lips. "Why would you want to know more about a mere fairytale? Especially one conjured by either a child''s whimsy or a drunkard''s ramblings." Despite the feigned scepticism in Alfred''s tone, Claude caught the flicker of something else beneath his words. A hesitance. A fear, perhaps. And that, more than anything, intrigued him. "Just a fleeting interest," Claude replied, his voice light, his expression unreadable. "I recently passed through town and happened upon a travelling bard who spoke of a long-forgotten empire called Avalon." "Travelling bard..." Alfred repeated under his breath. Then, almost imperceptibly, his jaw tightened. "Is it him?" The latter half of his words were forced through gritted teeth. Claude narrowed his eyes as he saw this, noting this in the back of his head. Alfred, realizing his slip, let out a slow breath and straightened his posture, his expression smoothing into a polite but distant smile. "I apologise, Master Claude. I do not know enough about the legend to educate you." Claude merely waved a hand, offering a disarming chuckle as he leaned forward. "No need for apologies. Just tell me what you do know¡ªno matter how small." For a moment, Alfred remained still, his lips pressed together. Then, finally, with a soft nod, he relented. "Of course," he murmured and after a brief pause he exhaled deeply, tilting his head upward. "Avalon..." he began, his voice quieter now. "Legends speak of it as an ancient empire, one whose name was once spoken with reverence and awe. It was said to be ruled by an order of monks¡ª the Machina Sacra¡ªwho devoted themselves entirely to their god¡ª" A shadow passed over his features. "Cogus." The name lingered in the air, heavier than it should have been. Claude did not miss the brief hesitation in Alfred''s voice, nor the flicker of something unreadable in his expression. "However," Alfred continued, "hearsay claims that this mighty empire met its end at the hands of traitors within the Sacra Machina itself..." And just like that, a door had been cracked open. Claude intended to step through it. ----- ---------- ---------------- Knock-Knock! The sound of a rapping knuckle echoed through the desolate corridor, rattling the dust that clung stubbornly to the warped wooden door. The hinges, rusted with age and neglect, groaned under the weight of time. "Come in..." A weary voice drifted from within, barely more than a whisper, swallowed by the stagnant air of the room beyond. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Nevertheless, the guest did not seem to have heard the weary voice. Or, perhaps they did. Whoosh! A violent kick forced the door open, its motion disturbing the dust-laden air. Following the disruption, a figure strode in, the brim of his weathered hat tilting slightly as he stepped into the dim glow of a flickering oil lamp. Shadows stretched across his roguish face that remained half-obscured beneath the hat''s brim. It was William. "I knew it..." The voice''s owner¡ªa frail, cloaked woman¡ªlifted her head, her cloudy eyes locking onto him. She was seated on the floor, curled inward like a wounded beast, her thin cloak draped around her skeletal frame. The dim light caught on strands of silver hair, dishevelled and tangled with time. "¡­you have come." "Of course I have!" A smile tugged at William''s lips, but it lacked warmth, a cruel mockery of amusement. "After all, what meaning would my life hold if I did not come to seek you vermin?" He took a slow step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. "Tell me, traitor..." His smirk faded, replaced by something colder, more calculated. "Why did you do it? Even after all these years, I cannot fathom your decision." Thump! With a sudden, merciless kick, William sent the frail woman skidding across the rough wooden floor. The force of the impact sent a metallic screech reverberating through the hollow room as she scraped against the splintered boards. His extended leg¡ªgleaming steel where flesh should have been¡ªcaught the dim glow of the flickering lamp hanging from above. Cough! She sputtered, crimson speckling the floor as she clutched her ribs. Her thin frame trembled from the impact, but when she lifted her head, her expression was not one of fear. It was resolve. "I have never wavered in my decision¡­ not then, not now," she rasped, her breath ragged but unwavering. Her robe slowly slipped off her, revealing a single deep brown eye darkened with time and sorrow, that bore into William with unshaken conviction. "You know full well that what you worship is not Him!" With a trembling push, she forced herself upright. Her cloak now completely slid from her shoulders, pooled around her feet in a heap of tattered fabric. The woman''s true visage was laid bare. Age had hunched her back, her once-strong frame now gaunt with the weight of time. Wisps of silver hair framed a face weathered by hardship, deep lines carved into her pale skin. But the most striking feature was her left eye¡ªa mechanical prosthetic, its inner gears clicking softly as the lens adjusted, locking onto William. Her left hand, twisted metal in place of flesh, curled into a fist. Both of her legs, mechanical from knee to toe, gleamed dully in the dim light and creaked with her every move. "Cease this foolish endeavour of yours. My decision, faith and ambition... they will not waver." A sardonic smile crept onto William''s face. "And, you know full well what that means. For both you and this accursed world." The woman maintained her silence. Her metal eye whirred and narrowed as frustration flickered through its artificial lens. Whoosh! The air howled as William''s foot carved through it, smashing down towards his foe, but the elder was already moving. With a nimbleness that belied her years, she twisted to the side, narrowly evading the crushing force of his kick. Crack! Aged wooden planks splintered beneath the impact, jagged shards erupting from the floor like shattered bones. Dust spiralled into the stagnant air, catching in the dim light as William slowly lowered his leg, his metallic foot now buried in the ruined boards. "Tsk! You sure can move for a woman your age," William muttered, rolling his shoulders as if stretching out a minor inconvenience. His tone was almost wistful, an echo of respect twisted by disdain. "As expected of someone who was once one of us." The woman''s expression twisted into something venomous. "Don''t you dare lump me in with vermin like you!" she spat. Even before William could react, she moved. With a mechanical whirr, her left arm snapped into motion. Metal plates along her forearm shifted and realigned, gears grinding against one another as pistons hissed with released pressure. The flesh-like covering along her wrist peeled back in segmented layers, revealing the dark iron beneath¡ªa skeletal framework of brass and steel, lined with faintly glowing etchings. Click! William''s pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks as a soft sound waded into his ears. What had once been the woman''s hand collapsed inward, fingers folding away like a clockwork puzzle. In their place, a series of barrel-like tubes emerged, each hissing with built-up steam as gears within the forearm spun at blurring speeds. Then¡ª Bang! Bang! Bang! A hailstorm of bullets erupted from her arm, tearing through the stale air like a swarm of hornets. The sheer force of the shots shattered wooden beams and punched ragged holes into the surrounding walls. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled the room. Soon, the sound died down as she lowered her arm. Her eyes locked onto the scarlet puddle that sat before her. "Why... Why can you not give up?!" she sighed, staring at the empty and damaged space before. "You and that wretched husk you hail as Exarch¡ª" Yet, her words were cut short. Schlick! A thin blood-red blade pierced through her artificial eye, slicing through gears, wires, and bone alike. For a moment, she stood frozen, her remaining organic eye wide with shock. Then, a violent shudder wracked her frame. Her fingers twitched. A strangled breath left her lips. Thud! Her body hit the floor, her limbs twitching¡ªonce, twice¡ªbefore finally falling still. A thin trickle of crimson seeped from the wound, mingling with the dust that coated the floorboards. The once motionless puddle of blood twitched and writhed as William soon reformed himself in the room. Wasting little time, he hopped to one side of the room and quickly found his leg which he had discarded in the midst of the chaos. Clink! As he reattached his limb, he stumbled over to the woman. William stared down at the lifeless form, his expression blank. "Tsk! Pitiful worm¡­" he murmured, voice laced with disdain. "How can you even begin to comprehend His glory?" His gaze drifted toward the boarded-up windows. Thin beams of sunlight bled through the cracks, weak and fragmented. Dust motes danced in the golden light, indifferent to the violence that had just unfolded. William exhaled. "This world¡­" he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper, "can only end in destruction." [Newspaper] Rustle! Seated in a cushioned chair within the grand dining hall of his manor¡ªa chamber adorned with mahogany panelling, ornate chandeliers, and tall windows veiled by heavy drapes¡ªClaude''s fingers traced the pages of the article he held. It was a newspaper. A foreign concept to him. In Francia, the circulation of news among the common people was nearly unheard of. Information was limited to pamphlets, shared only among the literate folk. Yet in Mercia, newspapers were widespread, perhaps a testament to the surprising level of literacy among its people. Even Evelyn, who was now tidying up the dining table, could read and understand most common words. ''Interesting¡­'' A glint flickered in Claude''s eyes as he recalled what he had just come to learn. ''How very interesting. A world so deeply intertwined with another¡ªhow could such a thing come to be?'' He was almost certain now. The Avalon and Machina Sacra mentioned in that distant realm were the same as those of this one. Despite this, rather than providing answers, this revelation only raised more questions. How had relics of Avalon crossed into another world? What had Alfred meant by traitors within Machina Sacra? And what had become of this so-called God? Surely, if He still lived, He would not allow His people to suffer. ''Could this all be tied to Him¡­?'' Claude mused, still he did not dare let the name of the Shadowfiend cross his lips. He had learned his lesson. The murals in that temple had shown him too much. By some stroke of luck¡ªor perhaps the nature of that world¡ªhe had escaped without drawing His gaze. But he would not tempt fate again. The Old Ones coveted mortal realms, and if he attracted their notice, he would not escape unscathed. Reality, when in their grasp, would only serve to further their ambitions. With a quiet click of his tongue, Claude shifted his gaze back to the newspaper in his hands. Hawden Weekly Breaking News: Spies? Monsters? Or Perhaps¡­ a Relic of the Past? Hawden¡ªThe quiet of Gallows Row was shattered late last night when residents reported hearing violent noises coming from a long-abandoned home at the corner of the street. Eyewitnesses describe the disturbance as a cacophony of crashes, mechanical screeches, and¡ªsome claim¡ªinhuman wails. Upon arrival, investigators found the house in ruins. The walls bore the scars of gunfire, their wooden panels splintered and cracked. The floor, littered with shattered glass and twisted metal, was drenched in blood. The only known occupant of the home was an elderly woman referred to as Agatha, a reclusive figure who had lived in the house for the past twenty-three years. However, her origins remain shrouded in mystery. No official records of her birth, lineage, or prior residence exist, and even her surname is absent from municipal archives. Those who knew her¡ªif they can be said to have known her at all¡ªdescribe her as an odd but harmless woman who spoke little and was rarely seen beyond her threshold. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Still, whispers among the townsfolk tell a different story. With some even claiming Agatha was more than just a hermit. A healer, a scholar, a mystic¡ªperhaps even a practitioner of the forbidden arts. What, then, transpired within the crumbling walls of that forsaken house? Was Agatha the victim of an assassination? A spy silenced by foreign operatives? Or did the metal debris lying at the scene perhaps point to another possibility? Was she a remnant of the Machina Sacra, long thought to be nothing more than a myth? Authorities have yet to locate a body, though blood patterns suggest that at least one individual¡ªlikely more¡ªwas gravely injured or killed. Investigators have sealed off the area, and the townspeople remain on edge. What is certain is this: whatever happened that night, it was no ordinary crime. For now, the town waits. And watches. If you have any information regarding Agatha or the events of last night, please report to the Hawden Constabulary. A small frown tugged at Claude''s lips, folding the paper. ''Why is there always something happening wherever I am going?'' "Master Claude, what are you reading over there?" Evelyn, having finished her chores, hopped to his side, eyes bright with curiosity. "Something about an attack somewhere in town¡­" Claude murmured, his gaze still fixed on the paper. "Oh? Another one?" Evelyn let out a soft sigh. "This town is only getting more and more dangerous. Master, you heard what Sir Walter said¡ªyou''ve already recovered¡­" Her eyes flickered over his pallid complexion. "¡­somewhat," she amended, biting her lip. "But you really should head to the main residence. I know how much you hate the mistress, but you must overcome that¡ª" Claude barely acknowledged the rest of her words, his focus narrowing in on her off-handed comment. "Another...?" he said, his gaze shifting to her. "What do you mean by that?" Evelyn blinked, tilting her head. Then, as realisation dawned, she covered her mouth with a small gasp. "That''s right¡­ Of course, you wouldn''t know." She paused. Then, in a quieter voice, she added, "It happened the same day you fell unconscious..." ----- ---------- ---------------- The soft murmur of conversation echoed along the paved walkways of Elysium as a small group of men strolled through its verdant scenery, the lush green foliage swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. "¡­and the physician swore on his honour that his leeches had cured the man¡ªthough, by chance, the man had died before he could confirm it himself!" A pudgy man chuckled, his tuft of blonde hair bobbing with each step. Beside him, a tall and gaunt man let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "These people and their ridiculous practices. Knowledge chases them, yet they seem too blind to stop and seek it." "Aye." The pudgy man nodded. "Mortals and their follies." He paused, then turned his head toward their silent companion, who had yet to contribute to the conversation. "Speaking of follies¡­ Gaspard, have you made any progress with old Catherine?" At the mention of his name, Gaspard looked up. But upon hearing the question, a shadow flickered across his face. His answer? A slow shake of the head. His companions exchanged glances, a silent worry passing between them. "Ah, what is love in the grand scheme of things, Gaspard?" the gaunt man said with an air of philosophy. "As mages, we need only seek the truth, embrace the truth, and live by the truth¡ª" A sharp slap to the back of his neck cut him off. He turned with a glare toward the pudgy man who had struck him. "Why did you¡ª" "Shut it, fool." The pudgy man seized him by the collar and pulled him close, hissing, "How many times have I told you to stop with the empty comforts? Look at Gaspard!" The taller man obeyed, his gaze shifting to their third companion. Gaspard remained silent, but his face had darkened noticeably. His usual composed expression was gone, replaced by a quiet melancholy that weighed on his chest like a damp, heavy cloak after a storm. Another sigh passed between the two men. Yet before they could speak, Gaspard drew a sharp breath. Both turned toward him, brows raised and followed his transfixed gaze into the distance. There, seated on a nearby wooden bench, was a woman¡ªa familiar woman. Her cascading brown hair framed an expression of quiet confusion, her eyes drifting aimlessly. [Undercurrents] The midday sun hung high, its golden light filtering through the thick canopy of leaves. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filled the air, carried by a gentle breeze that rustled the tall grass surrounding the grand manor. Birds chirped in the distance, their songs blending with the whisper of leaves swaying above. Claude stood beside Alfred, his pale complexion almost luminous beneath the dappled sunlight. "Vitalis," Alfred began, his voice steady. "It is a potent force. Harbingers can manipulate it to perform acts that defy the very nature of the world around them." "Normally," Alfred continued, "Harbingers train with their artefacts. By cycling their Vitalis through their artefact and back into their bodies, they gradually refine it¡ªboth in quantity and quality¡ªuntil they reach a threshold and advance to the next stage." Alfred sighed, glancing toward Claude. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze before he continued, "However, due to your situation, you cannot advance your Vitalis currently. So, I will instead train you in manipulating what you already have." Claude gave a slow nod. Seeing this, a small smile played on Alfred''s lips as he strolled forward, stopping before a massive oak tree. Its gnarled bark bore the weight of age, deep grooves running along its surface like the wrinkles of an ancient giant. Knock! Alfred rapped his knuckles against the trunk before turning back to Claude. "For those who have not yet bound their first artefact, we call them Novice Harbingers. They cannot project their Vitalis outside their body and do not possess unique abilities." He traced a hand along the bark as he spoke. "They can, however, use it to coat themselves¡ªenhancing their physical abilities and performing other feats." As he spoke, a faint glow shimmered from his chest, soft and golden, pulsing like a heartbeat before spreading outward. It wrapped around him like a second skin, clinging to his frame. Then¡ª Tap. Tap. Tap. Before Claude could fully register it, Alfred was no longer on the ground. His feet pressed against the vertical surface of the tree, walking upward as though gravity had simply lost its hold on him. Claude''s eyes narrowed. ''Interesting¡­'' The sheer versatility of this technique struck him immediately. While it might not have been a direct boost to his combat prowess, the manoeuvrability it provided was invaluable. Alfred, still perched effortlessly against the rough bark, turned his gaze downward. "If you manage to control your Vitalis to a sufficient degree, you should be able to replicate this." Whoosh! With a casual push, Alfred propelled himself off the tree, twisting in mid-air before landing soundlessly on the ground. His boots touched the grass without so much as a whisper. "By doing this, you will not only gain a new method of applying Vitalis but also improve your control over it." "Now," Alfred clapped his hands, brushing off an unseen speck of dust. "Your turn. Maintain your composure and ensure your Vitalis does not oscillate. It must remain constant around your body." He paused, then added, "With enough practice, you can focus Vitalis into specific areas of your body, increasing its potency¡ªbut that is for another time." Finishing his words, Alfred stepped back, gesturing for Claude to begin. Claude wasted no time. He strode forward, stopping before the oak. Closing his eyes, he searched inward using his Mental Energy, seeking that familiar pulse within his chest. There. His eyes snapped open, and in an instant, an ethereal blue flame flickered to life around him. It burst from his core before thinning, stretching across his body in a translucent veil. Exhaling, Claude lifted his foot and placed it against the bark. Crack! A sudden, sharp sound split the air. Before he could even attempt to ascend, a deep groan echoed from within the tree. Crash! The entire oak lurched. With a violent shudder, its gnarled roots tore free from the earth, tilting forward like a collapsing tower. Claude barely had time to react before its immense form came crashing down toward him, blotting out the sunlight. ''What the hell¡ª?!'' His mind raced. Why had this happened? Why hadn''t Alfred mentioned this as a possibility? Tsk! Clicking his tongue, Claude tensed, readying his Mental Energy. The consequences of a rash move were secondary¡ªsurvival came first. "Watch out!" A streak of gold flashed past him. The shimmering figure of a massive bear materialized mid-leap, its translucent form solidifying as it lunged forward. With a powerful swipe, the golden construct caught the falling tree, muscles rippling beneath its luminous hide. It let out a low, rumbling growl before twisting its entire body, using sheer force to redirect the enormous trunk. Crash! The earth trembled as the tree slammed into the ground, sending a rush of wind through the clearing. A cloud of dust billowed up, swirling in the air before settling. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Claude lowered his arms, blinking through the haze. "Master Claude!" Alfred was at his side in an instant. His hands hovered slightly, as though prepared to steady him. "Are you alright? Any injuries?" Claude exhaled slowly, dusting off his sleeve before meeting Alfred''s gaze. "I''m fine," he said, voice even. "But I would appreciate an explanation." Alfred hesitated. Relief flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a contemplative frown. "I have no records of this happening before," he admitted, crossing his arms. "This¡ªthis should be due to a lack of control over your Vitalis. But a Novice Harbinger should not possess enough of it to cause such an effect¡­" "Perhaps this potent Vitalis is what has been causing your frailness." His gaze lingered on Claude, a silent question forming in his eyes. "However, I have never heard of Vitalis harming its user in any capacity..." Claude ignored the faint pity in his tone. His mind was already elsewhere. ''An interaction between my Vitalis and Mental Energy¡­'' From the moment he awakened his Vitalis, he had sensed the odd interplay between the two forces within him. They strengthened each other and grew in tandem. ''Perhaps my Vitalis advanced far more than I realised due to the disparity between the two¡­'' He pressed his lips together in thought. He would have time later to unravel this mystery. For now¡ª "Enough." Claude shook his head and turned toward Alfred, his sharp gaze unwavering. "Let me try again." Alfred hesitated. "Are you sure? That incident¡ª" Claude didn''t answer. His actions spoke for him. With a speed that belied his sickly complexion, he was already striding toward another tree. Alfred let out a long, resigned sigh before following after him. ----- ---------- ---------------- "This process is taking far too long," Catherine muttered, her voice tinged with frustration. "It''s been over a month since I applied for the grant for my new project idea..." Her gaze drifted aimlessly into the space before her, her mind lost in the web of doubts that had been growing ever since she submitted her application. "Perhaps those rumours were true...?" Her brows furrowed slightly as she let the thought linger, uncertain whether she was only imagining the weight of her concerns or if something more was at play. The rumours she spoke of were a matter of considerable concern within the High Council of Elysium. The Council itself was made up of the Official Mages and higher, but the High Council consisted solely of the four Mage Lords. They held the power to make the final decisions on critical matters, and for projects like Catherine''s¡ªones that required specific, often rare, equipment only found in Elysium¡ªthe issue was pushed up to them. However, the High Council was currently tied up in pressing matters, leaving no room to review or approve anything in the foreseeable future. With a soft sigh, Catherine pressed her lips together, her mind searching for solutions that seemed just out of reach. As an Official Mage, she had little sway over the decisions of those in higher positions. She was small¡ªinsignificant. A mere ant in the grand machinery of Elysium. A larger ant, perhaps, but an ant nonetheless. "Then again..." she muttered under her breath, her pupils shifting slightly as her gaze turned inward. "When have I ever not been weak?" "Cat!" The sudden voice snapped her from her thoughts. She blinked, looking up to find Gaspard standing before her, concern etched across his features. "Cat, is something wrong?" He knelt, his gaze searching hers for any sign of distress. "Are you alright?" "Of course," Catherine replied, forcing a weary smile onto her face. "I''m just... bogged down in planning my next project." "Next?" Gaspard''s eyes widened. "You''ve already made progress on it? Why haven''t you told me about this? Have you submitted it to the Council yet?" "Not yet," she replied, shaking her head. "I''m planning to present my findings along with the results of my next experiment. Claude is also working behind closed doors, and it wouldn''t feel right to present the data without him. He''s helped speed up the experiments, after all." She paused, then noticed the silence in Gaspard''s expression. A knowing smile spread across her face. "Oh!" She shook her head with a soft laugh, the smile lifting the weight of her earlier thoughts. "You needn''t worry. Claude is not like him. He''s a wonderful assistant¡ªquick to learn, patient, and open to new ideas. Though he can be a bit cold at times, his desire for truth is purer than anyone I''ve ever known. He won''t go down that path." "Sigh!" Gaspard leaned back, scratching the back of his head as he slouched onto the bench beside her. "I know, I know. But as mages, it''s hard to forget that. The Mental Energy we wield gives us a memory far beyond that of any mortal..." Catherine saw Gaspard''s expression shift, his eyes distant. He looked up at the sky, where puffy white clouds drifted lazily by. His voice grew quieter. "I remember that day... too well," he murmured. "The screams, the shouts, the panic... To think he''d have colluded with them..." His words trailed off, and Catherine could sense his struggle. She knew exactly what he was thinking but chose not to press him further. She knew where his mind went, and she understood his silence. "Stop, Gaspard," Catherine said softly, shaking her head. "We may not be able to forget the past, but we have no choice but to move forward. You know as well as I do¡ªwallowing in it serves no purpose. As the saying goes, ''He who weeps for the past lets the future slip from his grasp.''" "But..." Gaspard''s voice faltered as his gaze remained fixed on the sky. "You know the rumours; don''t try to deceive me. That''s why you haven''t presented your findings, isn''t it?" Catherine didn''t argue or deny the accusation. Instead, she bit her lip. Her mind flooded with memories she would rather not face, but they came rushing forth, as they always did. ----- ---------- ---------------- "Stop being so na?ve, Catherine..." The youth''s voice was cold, cutting through the air like a blade. His raven-black hair hung messily over his forehead, and his piercing blue eyes glinted with a feverish intensity. He stood atop the lifeless body of a middle-aged man whose face was a mask of blood and torn flesh. The corpse was barely recognisable¡ªutterly marred by wounds, its final expression obscured by the carnage. "You know why I did this," the youth continued, his words dripping with venom. "It''s those damn fossils above us! They preach about serving the truth, but we both know what they are." His laughter was high-pitched, manic, reverberating against the ruins around them. "Look at this!" He gestured wildly at the body beneath his boot. "If they were truly of one nature, do you honestly believe Elysium would be in this state?" "No, no..." Catherine''s voice quivered, barely above a whisper. Desperation flooded her chest as she shook her head violently, her eyes wide with disbelief. "This can''t be true. You wouldn''t... You can''t have done this. It''s a dream, that''s all... a dream!" The sound of distant screams, of chaos unfolding, pierced through the air. Smoke billowed in the distance, swirling up from the heart of Elysium, shrouding everything in an ominous haze. "This rotten corpse of a council," the youth spat, his voice full of contempt as his fist clenched. "Shall pave the way for the future. My future." His foot lashed out, kicking the lifeless body of the man behind him with brutal force, sending it sprawling as he turned and strode away, indifferent to the horror he left in his wake. "No¡ª!" Catherine''s voice broke, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her trembling hand desperate to stop him, to stop this madness. But it was too late. With that final, damning movement, everything shattered. The memories, the world, everything¡ªfractured like glass splintering in slow motion. ----- ---------- ---------------- "You''re right..." Catherine''s voice was soft, a melancholic smile tugging at her lips as the memories began to fade, replaced by the harsh reality before her. "I know... I''ve been hearing about it for some time now..." She knew exactly what he was referring to. The High Council had recently deliberated on sending a small force from the Inquisition to Assur to eradicate the cultist presence that had taken root there. But the Inquisition was spread thin, distracted by growing problems elsewhere¡ªchief among them, the Plague Bearers in Marduk. As a result, the High Council called for volunteers to join the Inquisition''s efforts. Volunteers among the Official Mages, those willing to leave their research behind and march straight into the heart of danger. It was not a call for just any mage. It was a summons for those who would risk everything to confront the darkness that had already claimed so much. And Catherine knew, deep in her bones, that she had no choice but to answer it. She had to join. To face the future without the ever-looming shadows of the past haunting her every step. To avenge the one person she had ever considered family. And, perhaps most crucially, to ensure that the horrors of the past would never repeat themselves.