《From Gamer to Mage: The Reincarnated Hero's Tale》


 Prologue: Williams Last Ordinary Day

    In dawning light so soft and fair, a dwelling brimmed with hopeful air,


    With scent of paper, ink, and tale, where countless books did so regale.


    Upon the floor, mementos lay, of adventures from a distant day.


    With videotapes and tomes amassed, a life of knowledge unsurpassed.


    In this abode of refuge fine, did William Taylor call it thine.


    With groan reluctant, he arose, from slumber''s warm and sweet repose,


    He crossed the floor of wooden wear, and raked a hand through tousled hair.


    To kitchen small he made his way, a simple meal to start the day,


    And as he worked, he hummed a tune, that filled the space like sun at noon.


    His love for life, though veiled by strife, did shine in quiet moments rife.


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    He dressed himself in garb so plain, with pride in self, yet free from vain,


    And as he locked his chamber door, he gazed upon the world once more.


    A day like any other seemed, with golden light that softly gleamed.


    He knew not yet his time was short, within this realm of human sort.


    The streets alive with city''s grace, the world''s dance encircling his space,


    A single face within the throng, his warmth and kindness did belong.


    He paused to aid a woman''s plight, her groceries held with grip so tight.


    He offered smile and kind words true, her burden lighter than she knew.


    He sat with elder, stories told, enraptured by the memories old.


    In work''s embrace, he stood steadfast, focused, strong, his duties cast.


    The challenges he faced that day, with quiet strength, he kept at bay.


    His colleagues saw a kindred soul, a heart that understood their toll.


    A friend, confidant, and solace sweet, in world where hardships often meet.


    At noon he sought, with hope so frail, a love connection through digital veil.


    Yet screen bereft of matches found, his heart refused to let hope drown.


    With focus swift to world returned, where greater things his heart discerned.


    The day grew long, and shadows fell, his home he sought, his heart to quell.


    For quiet refuge he did yearn, where books and memories did churn.


    Yet fate had plans of greater scope, and weaved a tale of newfound hope.


    That night he slept, his dreams took flight, unknowing of the change so bright.


    For on the morrow, grand and clear, an adventure vast would soon appear,


    And William Taylor, kind and fair, would be at the heart of a tale so rare.

 Chapter 1: Embrace your Destiny!

    "Embrace your destiny, become the hero of your story!" These words, spoken to me when I was just a youth, set my heart ablaze. I lost myself in the intricate worlds of tabletop role-playing games, where I yearned to embody the heroes penned into my character sheets. Those personas consumed my days in epic storytelling, igniting a passion that blazed like the sun.


    But as the sands of time slipped through my fingers, the dream of manifesting such desires in reality grew distant. The allure of heroes and adventures waned, eclipsed by the relentless march of life.


    At forty years old, I stood alone, a man of modest means in a quaint American town. My looks and abilities were unremarkable, fitting neatly into the mold of average. Marriage remained an elusive concept in my future, and when asked about my hobbies, I''d recount my affection for tabletop role-playing games. In my youth, I''d even helped organize conventions, but as my career soared, those cherished moments receded into the shadows.


    Then, one fateful day, my unassuming life took an exhilarating turn. My last recollection before everything changed was of finishing some extra work, returning to my apartment, and turning the doorknob.


    In an instant, I found myself consumed by an all-encompassing void. Devoid of sensation, I couldn''t discern up from down or even the form of my own self. My consciousness alone floated through the boundless emptiness.


    Though I believed I had decades left to live, I was acutely aware that I was no longer among the living. Thoughts of coworkers, friends, family, unfulfilled dreams, and the pile of untouched novels and tabletop sourcebooks swirled within me as I embraced the void''s embrace.


    Well, there''s no turning back now.


    As I contemplated my life, it became clear I had neither monumental achievements to boast nor profound regrets to lament. It was an existence, not without its share of moments, and though it was tragically cut short, I made my peace with the finality of my tale.


    With time losing all sense of meaning, a presence addressed me, its voice echoing within the void. "I am the Lord God." I couldn''t see or hear its source, but its words resonated within my consciousness.


    "You will be transported to a realm beyond the boundaries of your world, a place akin to what you might call a parallel universe."


    "Transported to another world?" I queried.


    The phrase felt strange yet oddly familiar, awakening a long-forgotten memory within me.


    "Based on my exploration of this dimension''s fabric of information, ''transported to another world'' is the most suitable description for this occurrence."


    "Huh," I replied, bewildered. My response was lacking in conviction, but a part of me had already accepted the impending adventure. There was no room for fear; I had already departed the realm of the living. Moreover, I had always been captivated by tales of otherworldly journeys, like Sword Art Online and the John Carter series¡ªclassics in their own right. These genres had recently enjoyed a resurgence in popularity.


    Yet, I had always believed such stories to be pure fiction. Now, it appeared I was destined to be a character in a similar narrative.


    "Once I arrive in this other world, what becomes of me?"


    "I shall grant you a form befitting your new existence. Please provide me with the necessary information for its creation. Your destination resembles what you would recognize as a ''sword and sorcery'' fantasy realm; therefore, it would be wise to ensure the details you provide align with that context."


    "A new form... in a fantasy world?"


    My mind immediately fixated on a character I had painstakingly crafted for a tabletop RPG known as Tombs & Titans. During my academic years, I had thrown myself into the game, dedicating seven years and countless campaigns to raising the character I held dearest - the Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros. Among all my gaming creations, my connection with Emberus ran the deepest.


    "I''ve conducted a thorough analysis of your character. Using information from the rulebooks, sourcebooks, scenario notebooks, and character sheets in your room, I will recreate the physical and mental attributes of ''Emberus Blazeus,'' along with his possessions. To ensure there''s no discord that might harm your mental state, your physical appearance will remain unchanged."


    In essence, this self-proclaimed deity not only delved into my thoughts but also pored over my notebooks filled with whimsical fantasies from my youth.


    The embarrassment I felt was mortifying.


    "The creation of Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros is now complete," declared the divine presence. As my disembodied self squirmed with embarrassment, the divine work concluded, and I began to regain the sensation of having a corporeal form.


    I found myself clad in a crimson robe, a knapsack hanging over my shoulder, and a staff firmly gripped in one hand. My features remained the same - the brown hair, dark eyes, and unremarkable visage of an average American man. It felt like I had put on a costume, but I could sense that this transformation ran deeper than appearances.


    The vitality and agility of someone in their twenties surged through me - even more energetic than my younger years, despite my aversion to sports and preference for indoor activities.


    "Are there any inconsistencies in your consciousness or memories?" the deity inquired.


    As I delved into my thoughts, I discovered an innate understanding of Ember''s magical abilities, along with a mental catalog of his enchanted items and how to use them. Every detail I had devised with the game master and recorded in my notebooks as background information was now intrinsic knowledge within my mind. Despite this influx of new information, I could still effortlessly access memories from my previous forty years of life.


    "Everything appears to be in order," I replied. "But you weren''t kidding - I''ve truly become a character from a TTRPG..."


    My character, Emberus Blazeus Xandros, was a Level 20 Archmage, the pinnacle achievable in the Tombs & Titans Core rules. The realization that I had become Ember brought forth a blend of trepidation and exhilaration.


    Is this truly acceptable? What have I gotten myself into?


    Even among genre enthusiasts, Tombs & Titans was considered an antiquated relic. It was often associated with parties of fragile characters, each boasting a mere 3 to 5 hit points, struggling - and usually failing - to survive while navigating mundane dungeons filled with rats, bats, and goblins. While contemporary TTRPGs emphasized vibrant characters and intricate narratives, this depiction faithfully captured Tombs & Titans'' gameplay.


    However, this portrayal only applied to the Core ruleset. As characters progressed, the nature of their adventures shifted dramatically.


    Tombs & Titans was divided into four tiers: One, Two, Three, and Four, with each tier corresponding to an ascending range of character levels. Upon reaching Tier Four, characters could expect to lead guilds, govern nations, embark on interdimensional or even interstellar adventures, and engage in epic battles against demons or deities. Under the right circumstances, characters might even undertake a quest to ascend to godhood.


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    To reach the heights of Tier Four, a character had to participate in at least one hundred campaign modules. Over seven years, I had nurtured Ember to his ultimate form, and his abilities, potent enough to shape the destiny of the world, were a testament to that.


    "What do you expect from me after all of this?" I inquired.


    "Once you are transported, I will neither guide nor interfere with your actions."


    So, after going to such lengths to transport me to another world, I was expected to act as I pleased? Suspicion welled up as I tried to discern any hidden meaning in the words of this so-called God.


    "This isn''t a situation where, for example, I become an Archmage, but Ember''s magic won''t function in the other world, right?"


    If that were the case, this would be less of a portal fantasy and more of a dark sci-fi comedy.


    "The magic that''s woven into your character''s essence clashes with the fundamental principles of this other world. Yet, within the boundaries of this world''s natural laws, it can still be harnessed. This applies not just to your physical abilities and game-based knowledge but also to your character''s formidable powers."


    "Are you absolutely certain about this? I could potentially plunge this world into chaos."


    "If that''s your choice, I won''t stand in your way."


    Well, that''s not exactly my plan!


    Once upon a time, I had longed to become Ember, but expecting a man in his forties to muster the energy and resolve to embark on grand adventures¡ªwhether to save or imperil the world with Ember''s formidable powers¡ªseemed like an insurmountable demand. If this had happened twenty years ago, the story might have unfolded differently.


    "Isn''t Ember a tad too powerful? Maybe a Level 6 Cleric would be more reasonable... But then again, Emberus is the character I know best," I pondered, contemplating alternatives and reevaluating.


    But, on the other hand, I couldn''t ignore the rush of excitement coursing through me because of these surreal circumstances. This was a chance to become the hero of countless adventures I had shared with my friends around the gaming table in my youth.


    In normal circumstances, I wouldn''t have had the luxury to abandon my work and indulge in leisure, let alone embark on a journey to another world. But in the end, this opportunity had arisen because I was no longer counted among the living.


    Could I consider it an early retirement? Whether I spent the rest of my years in the United States or this new world, it didn''t seem like a terrible arrangement, as long as I didn''t struggle to find sustenance. Although, indulging in delicious food now and then, reading fascinating books, and perhaps participating in some roleplaying would be the icing on the cake


    .


    The truth was, after my conversation with the so-called God, I had momentarily forgotten all the life lessons I had learned. I was ecstatic, painting vivid pictures of fantastic futures in my mind.


    "Well then, I shall now send you to this other world. For your reference, your destination is the continent of Dravus, as it''s known in the native tongue," declared the God. Those were the last words I heard before my consciousness faded.


    ---


    "I don''t know what I was expecting, but this certainly wasn''t it..."


    As consciousness slowly returned to me, I found myself trapped within a square prison cell. My gaze locked onto the rust-covered bars of the iron cell door, while the other three walls were hewn from stone. The ceiling soared high above, featuring a hole roughly three meters from the ground, allowing a shaft of light to filter in. Inside the cell, there was nothing but a tattered rag, barely fit for a blanket, and a hole in the floor that served as a rudimentary toilet. This constituted my newly acquired world. To add to my woes, my wrists were firmly ensnared in wooden stocks. Beyond the bars, my cell faced another identical one, though it remained empty.


    "What a dramatic start," I commented to myself.


    "Intense beginning" was a term used in TTRPG module writing for campaign hooks that thrust players into a situation or incident, commencing the story in medias res¡ªin the midst of things. I couldn''t think of a more fitting description for my current predicament.


    "If there''s a game master orchestrating all of this, they certainly have a twisted sense of humor," I remarked, scrutinizing my surroundings and piecing together the information I held.


    The most probable candidate for the role of game master was the so-called God, I considered, my previous excitement having evaporated entirely. God had assured me that I was free to act as I saw fit, but I found it difficult to accept those words without a healthy dose of skepticism. No one would go to such lengths for something as intricate as this without a purpose in mind.


    "I reckon it''s around noon," I speculated, noting the sunlight streaming in from the aperture in the wall above.


    Using the available light, I examined myself. I was dressed in pants and a long-sleeved shirt, but my feet were bare. My custom-crafted robe, boasting an impressive +5 AC (Armor Class) bonus, had vanished, along with my staff and Bag of Holding, which held my spellbook. All the equipment I had accumulated over Ember''s extensive adventures had disappeared.


    "What have I done to deserve this plunge off the figurative precipice? First, I die, and then I''m flung into another realm, transformed into an RPG character..."


    I felt a profound weariness wash over me. It seemed my dreams of recapturing my youth had taken a rather unexpected turn.


    Leaning against a rough-hewn wall, I cradled my head in my hands, feeling the weight of my actions settle upon me. Had anyone discovered my lifeless body yet? I had left preparations for next week''s crucial meeting incomplete, and my mind couldn''t help but dwell on my own earthly concerns.


    With a long, defeated sigh, I whispered, "I''ve truly been transported to another world, haven''t I?"


    Minutes drifted by, my gaze lost in the abyss, but gradually, the cogs of my mind began to turn again. Drawing several deep breaths to regain my composure, I felt a glimmer of optimism returning with each exhale. Yes, I had died, but there was no undoing that now, nor any way to return to America. I needed to accept my situation and focus on the path ahead.


    Thankfully, I had arrived in this new realm as a Level 20 Archmage. The list of things I couldn''t do here was dwarfed by the myriad of abilities at my disposal.


    "If I just cast a spell or two, I... Wait! That''s right! I don''t have my spellbook, do I?"


    The realization that my equipment had vanished washed over me, causing my face to pale. Without my Bag of Holding, which contained my various magical items and treasures, my spellbook was gone too.


    "If I don''t have my spellbook... Well, I''m in deep trouble."


    Let me emphasize the significance of a spellbook to an Archmage. In many games, both old and new, magic users have magic points, or MP, which they expend to cast spells. But not in T&T. Here, Mages must study their spellbook each morning and memorize the spells they intend to use that day. It''s known as "readying" the spell. Once you cast a readied spell, it disappears from your memory and can''t be used again until you study it anew during your next morning''s spellbook session.


    If I had no spells readied now, and all my magical items were gone, I was nothing more than an ordinary person. Despite living for forty years as a regular individual, panic began to creep in.


    "Alright, do I have any spells ready?"


    Though I had never actually cast spells before, I scoured my memory until...


    "Eureka!"


    It was as if I had unearthed a hidden wellspring of energy within my mind. I instinctively recognized it as a readied spell. The incantation technique and the steps to cast the spell became clear. As God had hinted, Emberus Blazeus Xandros'' knowledge had indeed become embedded in my mind.


    "My top priority should be escaping this place and, at the very least, retrieving my spellbook. But who imprisoned me here in the first place?"


    While breaking free was crucial, I needed to assess my surroundings before taking action. Someone or something had stolen my equipment and imprisoned me. It was a reasonable assumption that the culprit might still be nearby.


    "Should I use a spell to break out of this cell, at least?"


    In T&T, Mages faced a considerable challenge in deciding which spells to ready each day and how to use their limited spell slots effectively. Ember, a max-level Archmage (and now, I was one as well), could ready up to twenty-two spells a day¡ªfour Rank 1, three Rank 2, three Rank 3, three Rank 4, three Rank 5, two Rank 6, two Rank 7, one Rank 8, and one Rank 9 spell. Among the spells I contemplated casting, the obvious choice was "Tap," which could unlock the cell door or free my hands from the stocks. However, several other spells could also be useful for my escape.


    "After careful thought... I should prioritize my safety."


    After some deliberation, I finally decided on the first spell I would cast: "Invincibility." It was a Rank 9 spell, one of the most challenging to cast in-game. It completely nullified all weapon-based physical attacks and any magic-based attacks of Rank 3 or lower for up to six hours. If things took a turn for the worse, its effects would prove invaluable.


    "Will it work as intended?"


    All the steps necessary to cast the spell were already clear in my mind, based on T&T rules from over two decades ago. It was surprisingly straightforward. I had to give credit to God; I was astonished that they could decipher and comprehend the chaotic scribbles in those old notebooks.


    "Here goes nothing..."


    For the first time in my life, I began to perform an action I had role-played hundreds of times before.


    I started to cast a spell.

 Chapter 2: In my minds eye

    In my mind''s eye, the intricate patterns of magic danced and swirled, revealing the array of spells I had at my disposal: Time Stop, Invincibility, Summon Monster Any, and the most potent of them all... Meteor. With a flick of my wrist and a chant on my lips, I began to weave the intricate threads of magic, bringing the spell to life.


    As I spoke the incantation, my hand traced out the complex gestures of the somatic components. I could feel the raw power of the spell surging through me, as if I had tapped into the very essence of the arcane itself. And with a final flourish, I cast the spell.


    "For the next six hours," I thought to myself, "my body will be shielded by an invisible barrier, impenetrable to any weapon-based physical attacks or magic of Rank 3 or below."


    The spell was a masterpiece of enchantment, a complex web of interwoven magic that would protect me from harm. It was not unlike a finely crafted computer program, with every detail meticulously laid out, describing the target and the effects of the spell.


    My hands were still bound, locked in wooden stocks, a symbol of my captivity. But as I surveyed my body, my eyes caught sight of the faint, misty layer enveloping me, my barrier. It was so subtle that I had to squint to see it, and I doubted that anyone else would be able to detect its presence.


    Curiosity piqued, I reached out to feel the barrier near my abdomen, the cool touch of the ethereal substance sending a shiver through my body.


    The spell was activated, and a rush of elation surged through me. "I really was able to cast a spell," I marveled. It felt like an eternity had passed, as if I had spent an hour trying to weave the intricate threads of magic. But I knew that it couldn''t have taken more than six seconds. The rules were crystal clear, and even if I tried to rush, I couldn''t shorten the casting time.


    I sighed, feeling the weight of the knowledge settle upon me. It made sense in the context of a game, but the fact that casting a spell rendered me completely defenseless for six seconds meant that I would have to be cautious in how I wielded my magic.


    Lost in thought, I spent a few minutes staring into space, basking in the quiet of my cell. But my peace was abruptly shattered by a cacophony of footsteps and voices, growing louder with each passing second.


    "Hey, you! Get up. You''re coming with us!"


    "It''s time for your questioning, pal! You''re gonna talk!"


    I turned to face the bars of my cell, where three men clad in dirty leather armor were shouting at me.


    My thoughts raced, taking in the details of their appearance and the situation at hand. They were all white, I noted, but that was hardly important. What mattered was that they were bandits, and I was their prisoner.


    And yet, even as they shouted insults and threats at me, I realized that I could understand every word they said, despite the fact that they spoke in a language I had never heard before. It was as if God had downloaded knowledge of their language into my mind, an unexpected gift in the face of danger.


    "I said get up!" one of the bandits bellowed, his voice grating on my nerves. "Come on out of there!"


    "Hurry up, idiot!" another snarled.


    "Snap out of it!" shouted the third, his face twisted in anger.


    The three men on the other side of the bars made a ruckus, their blond or brown hair and European features marking them as bandits. They were armed to the teeth with axes and swords, and their unkempt appearance spoke of a life on the fringes of society.


    In my experience, gleaned from games and manga, these were the kind of men who thought nothing of killing and plundering. In a story, they might have been dismissed as small fry, but up close and personal, they exuded a bloodthirsty aura that made my blood run cold.


    I remained silent, unsure of what to do. Violence had never been a factor in my life before, and I felt completely out of my depth. The bandits approached, unlocking the cell door and barging in.


    "Can''t do anything by yourself, can you?" one of them taunted, before landing a vicious punch to my stomach. The pain was blinding, and I gasped for air.


    It was then that I realized my mistake. Invincibility was useless against bare fists; it only protected against weapon attacks and low-ranked magic. I had been caught off guard, and now I was paying the price.


    As the bandits dragged me out of the cell and down a short hallway, I caught a glimpse of another prisoner, a young woman locked in a nearby cell. Her eyes met mine, and I could see the fear and desperation in her gaze.


    "Don''t worry," one of the bandits crowed, "we''ll get to you once we''re finished with him! We''ll have plenty of time to get to know each other then! Ha ha ha!"


    The sound of the woman''s scream echoed down the hallway, a gut-wrenching sound that made my blood run cold. I knew that I had to act, but my mind was in a state of panic. How could I help her when I couldn''t even help myself?


    "Over here!" the bandits shouted, taking me through a door at the end of the hall and into a large courtyard. Thick stone walls surrounded us, and in the distance, I could see a towering stone tower.


    As we made our way to the center of the courtyard, I could hear the jeers and taunts of another group of bandits who were already waiting for us.


    "Hey! It''s the fake Weaver!"


    "Show us a trick, why don''t you try and weave your way out of this?"


    "Or maybe you could Earth-Weave and dig your own grave!"


    The insults stung, but I tried to focus on the task at hand. I had to find a way out of this place, to protect myself and anyone else who might be in danger.


    But first, I had to understand what was going on. Fake Weaver? What did that mean?


    Forced to my knees in the center of the courtyard, I groaned, taking in my surroundings. This was clearly some kind of fortress or castle, the bandits'' hideout. It was just the kind of place you would expect to find in a game, but the stakes were all too real.


    "Karyon, sir!" one of the bandits called out, addressing someone who I could only assume was their leader.


    For what felt like an eternity, the bandits held me down, their rough hands digging into my flesh. I could feel the bruises forming, the pain radiating through my body.


    But then, a man in robes appeared from the tower, wielding two staves in his hands. He had the air of a powerful mage, his sunken cheeks and high-bridged nose giving him an aura of annoyance.


    "Who are you?" the man, Karyon, screeched. "Who are you to have such an incredible staff as this?! Who did you steal it from?!"


    One of the staves he held was my own Staff of the Arcane, a powerful magic item that I had crafted to commemorate reaching Level 20. I had poured half of my fortune into its creation.


    "I, uh...I am but a humble magician," I stammered. "My name is Emberus Blazeus Xandros. That staff is a personal possession of mine."


    But Karyon wasn''t convinced. "Magician? Do you mean to say you''re a Weaver? Don''t you try to fool me! You have no mana! There''s not a drop of mana in your veins! You could never be a Weaver."


    Confused, I tried to protest, but before I could, one of the bandits kicked me in the stomach. I doubled over in agony, the pain nearly overwhelming.


    "Ha ha ha! What a pathetic little wimp!" the bandit sneered.


    The pain was unbearable as another of the bandits kicked me in the stomach, leaving me gasping for breath. But the sound of their laughter was far more sinister than any physical harm they could do. I had never encountered such callousness in my entire life.


    Karyon''s voice cut through the commotion, but there was a hint of doubt in his tone. "While I sense no mana in this staff, it is clearly an Artifact."


    My heart raced as Karyon lifted my staff and a blinding flash of lightning erupted, followed by an explosion of thunder that knocked the bandits off their feet. I realized that my staff had discharged the lightning spell that was embedded within it, but Karyon''s statement about sensing no mana in the staff made no sense. My thoughts were muddled with pain and fear, and I couldn''t focus on the matter.


    Karyon''s voice boomed with rage. "How can there be an Artifact without mana?! Did those fool Arcanists develop this?! Tell me what you know!"


    "I have no idea what you''re¡ªugh!"


    I couldn''t even finish my sentence before the trio of bandits resumed their assault. Their actions made it clear that Karyon and his henchmen shared a sickeningly similar disposition.


    "Hmph... You underestimate me, the great Frost-Weaver Karyon? Insolent fool."


    "No, I just... Gurgh..."


    I struggled to withstand the barrage of kicks and punches from the three attackers. But my words had clearly struck a nerve. Karyon ordered the bandits to drag me to my feet, and then


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    raised his own staff, beginning a strange motion.


    "Glacies Saggita!"


    As he spoke those words, something shot out from the end of his staff and plunged into my shoulder.


    "G-gyaaahh!!!" I cried out in agony.


    A thick shard of ice protruded from my shoulder, and I realized with horror that Karyon had used magic to shoot an ice arrow at me. But how had he broken through my Invincibility spell? It was supposed to nullify magic below Rank 3! Had he used a higher-ranked spell?


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    "How do you like the taste of an authentic Frost-Weaver? If you don''t want to be turned into an icicle, you''d better start telling the truth!"


    "That''s our Karyon!"


    "Show him who''s boss!"


    The taunts from Karyon and his minions echoed in my ears, but the pain of the ice arrow drowned out their words. It was an entirely different level of agony compared to the blunt force of the bandits'' physical attacks.


    I was consumed by pain and fear as the gang continued their onslaught. But then, as if awakened by a familiar voice, my mind cleared. I''d faced countless trials in games and knew I could handle this. My focus sharpened, and everything around me came into crystal-clear clarity, likely thanks to Emberus''s natural aptitude. I knew I had to cast a spell that would immobilize Karyon and threaten the bandits enough to make them think twice about attacking me. However, Karyon had likely taken my spellbook, so running away with a spell was not an option.


    Ignoring the pain, insults, and everything else, I began to cast the spell, determined to see it through to the end. The bandits thought I had lost my mind, and they continued to jeer and laugh at me. But after the worst six seconds of my life, my spell was cast.


    "Petrify," I whispered.


    "As a consequence of this spell, one target will be turned to stone," played in my mind.


    Karyon and the bandits didn''t seem to realize what was happening, but I watched as Karyon''s feet turned to stone, the discoloration spreading mercilessly upward through his body. Once it reached his waist, both Karyon and the bandits understood what was happening.


    "It''s stone... Karyon''s turning to stone!"


    "I can''t move! I can''t move my legs!"


    As Karyon''s lower half transformed into stone, his screams filled the courtyard, and the color drained from his face. The rest of the bandits were not faring much better, and their panicked cries echoed through the air.


    "What are you doing?! Kill him! Kill him!" Karyon screeched.


    Feeling something touch my back, I spun around to face the source.


    "What is this?! What are you?!" cried one of the bandits, frozen stiff in a stabbing motion. His sword had been blocked by my Invincibility spell.


    "You damned freak!"


    "Why can''t I stab him?!"


    The gang of three charged at me with their axes and swords, but Invincibility protected me from their attacks. If they had tried to strike me with their bare hands, I might not have been so lucky. But they were too panicked to think of that.


    "No!!! Stop! Stop it! Somebody help m¡ª"


    Karyon''s petrification continued its ruthless march, the stone creeping up from his feet to his chest, then his throat, and finally his head. In less than twenty seconds since I had finished the spell, he had completely turned to stone, his face etched in terror. The T&T rules stated that the spell should have been instantaneous, but I couldn''t expect everything to be exactly the same. Though I felt a twinge of guilt for using such a spell on a human, I felt no remorse for Karyon.


    A wave of pain rippled through me, but I fought to keep my cool. I couldn''t afford to lose my focus, not now. For a moment, all was quiet, save for the sound of my labored breathing. Then, one of the bandits stepped forward, cautiously approaching Karyon''s statue.


    ¡°H-hey¡­¡±


    ¡°K-Karyon¡­ Sir, can you hear me?¡±


    As the bandit reached out to touch Karyon''s petrified form, the statue lost its balance and toppled to the ground with a resounding thud.


    ¡°He¡¯s really turned to stone¡­¡±


    ¡°W-was it that guy who did it?¡±


    Their collective gaze turned toward me, and the fear and anxiety on their faces was a satisfying sight. But I couldn''t afford to bask in it. I needed to deal with these bandits and fast.


    The pain in my shoulder made it difficult to think clearly.


    ¡°What¡¯s your next move?¡±


    I heard the voice of my game master, urging me on.


    As I struggled to collect my thoughts, the bandits began to understand the gravity of the situation. Slowly but surely, they started to edge away from me.


    ¡°That guy really turned Karyon to stone, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    "But Karyon claimed he wasn''t a weaver..."


    "Indeed, and observe the fate that befell him!"


    "Sh-should we just end him? For safety''s sake?"


    Regardless, several of the bandits clutched their weapons, unwilling to make the first move. If I were to flee or if one of them lost patience, the delicate balance that held us all in place would shatter.


    Driven by the moment''s intensity, I began to weave another spell. It wasn''t a calculated decision; I simply couldn''t endure the mounting pressure. I longed to do something¡ªanything¡ªto break free.


    "By the power of this spell, I call forth one to six ogres from the void, who shall obey my command for three days. Summon Ogre," the words formed in my mind.


    Summon Ogre, a spell of the seventh tier.


    The arcane energy released by the incantation distorted the space around me, sending ripples through the air.


    "What''s he doing now?!" a bandit cried.


    Their reaction time was limited. Soon, six towering humanoid monsters¡ªogres with a brownish-red hue to their skin¡ªmaterialized from the warped space. Each stood an imposing three meters tall, their visages a horrifying sight. Their initial action was to form a defensive ring around me.


    "F-FIENDS..." one of them gasped.


    "He''s summoned fiends! He has fiends on his side!" another exclaimed.


    The impact on the bandits was profound. One choked back a scream, while the others were visibly paralyzed with fear.


    The ogres, each brandishing either an axe or a club, possessed a Challenge Rating (CR) of 2. CR is a metric used to gauge the threat level posed by potential adversaries. A quartet of adventurers, in theory, could dispatch a foe with a CR equivalent to their level without incurring severe difficulties. Considering the highest possible CR in T&T capped at 30, these ogres weren''t necessarily formidable.


    However, a single ogre could readily engage a party of six Level 1 adventurers, with Level 1 denoting the average infantryman.


    I was unsure how closely the strength of Dravus'' humans corresponded to the T&T level system, but it didn''t seem far-fetched to presume that six ogres could effortlessly massacre a group of ten to twenty bandits.


    The bandits appeared to reach a similar consensus, their fighting spirit visibly wilting. Could I fault them? Several of those closest to the exit seized their chance, flinging the gate open and fleeing.


    So, in Dravus, they refer to ogres as "Fiends"? I mused. The term the bandits had used intrigued me. While I believed I had a grasp on the language, the exact meaning of "Fiend" remained elusive.


    "Hrgh¡­ Hyaaah!"


    As I was distracted by the throbbing pain in my shoulder, one of the bandits¡ªpart of the original trio¡ªgave a yell and charged at an ogre, axe swinging.


    Had the ogre remained stationary, the axe might have inflicted harm. But with a swift swing of its club, the ogre expertly disarmed the bandit, sending the axe flying.


    "Eep!" The first bandit squeaked in terror.


    "What in the world are you doing? You imbecile!" the second bandit protested.


    "Storms take it! Let''s get this over with!" the third bandit bellowed, and like a dam breaking, the tense equilibrium shattered.


    Some of the bandits squared off against the ogres in disarray, while others turned tail and ran. The ogres maintained their protective circle around me, ensuring that I remained untouched, but...


    "Spare them! Just drive them away!" I commanded.


    In response to my directive, the ogres roared. My request was perhaps unnecessary¡ªthese ogres were bound by my command, after all¡ªbut the social manners instilled in me growing up in the Southern US didn''t fade easily.


    Each time the ogres swung their axes, clubs, or rock-like fists, bandits were sent sprawling. Each offensive further depleted the bandits'' resolve, yet none of them died. It seemed the ogres were indeed heeding my command. Yet even in their restraint, the bandits barely scratched the monstrous entities.


    The ogres'' sheer dominance likely resulted from the bandits'' combat capabilities aligning more closely with Level 1 or 2 characters.


    "We can''t even land a single hit!"


    "Flee! We have to flee!"


    "W-wait up!"


    Those bandits who''d dared challenge the ogres quickly had their spirits crushed and retreated. The remaining brigands, their spirits dampened, followed suit. None were so injured they couldn''t walk, allowing me to exhale a sigh of relief.


    As I observed the last of the bandits attempting to squeeze through the side entrance, the notion of apprehending them crossed my mind. I could then hand them over to the law enforcement, whoever that might be in this realm.


    If I wasn''t so intent on conserving my readied spells, I might have pursued that course of action. But my spellbook was still missing, and the thought of potentially depleting all my spells without a means to restore them swiftly quelled any heroic ambitions.


    Regardless, the courtyard soon emptied of bandits, their echoes fading not long after. Moments earlier, this place had resembled a battlefield, and now, silence reigned. The contrast was almost surreal. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, turning my attention next to securing my safety.


    "Three of you," I instructed the ogres, "patrol the perimeter to ensure no bandits return. Two, comb through the fort and remove any potential threats. The last one, you''re on guard duty for me."


    A chorus of grunts answered me as the ogres followed my directives, leaving me with my personal guard.


    "God this hurts..." I groaned, clutching my wounded shoulder in the now-quiet courtyard.


    The icy projectile was no longer there, but a considerable wound marred my shoulder. The ice-based nature of the attack had left the wound eerily resembling frozen meat, with minimal bleeding.


    My spellbook was still at large, but I recognized the risk of lasting damage if I didn''t attend to my injury. Besides, the sight of it was unsettling.


    Summoning my energy, I cast Heal. This wasn''t a typical spell in a Mage''s arsenal, but due to a blessing from the god of healing in T&T, I was uniquely equipped to wield this Rank 5 spell.


    In accordance with T&T''s governing rules, Heal held the capability to remedy any injury or affliction, with the singular exception being death. Having invoked spells three times already, the initial anxiety had largely dissipated.


    "It truly worked¡­"


    Heal was a Rank 5 spell, and while I shouldn''t have been taken aback, watching my shoulder mend itself was akin to viewing footage in reverse. It healed flawlessly, leaving no trace of a scar. It was a startling glimpse into the profound capabilities a Level 20 Archmage held.


    "All right then, best get to it."


    Feeling revitalized, I resolved to explore the remainder of the fort. First, I had my guardian ogre free my hands from the stocks.


    "So, my inaugural dungeon is a forsaken fortress, eh? I should be mindful of any unexpected surprises concealed behind the doors the ogres break down¡­"


    T&T had clearly defined character classes ¨C Fighter, Cleric, Rogue, Mage, Paladin, and Ranger ¨C each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses, and each playing a distinct role in an adventuring party.


    The encounter with the bandits had made it abundantly clear that despite a Mage''s lofty level, they were fundamentally at a disadvantage in close-quarters combat.


    Magic was formidable, yes, but it wasn''t without its limitations. Most spells demanded a single action ¨C approximately six seconds ¨C for casting, leaving the mage vulnerable during the process. Healing magic was primarily a cleric''s domain, not a mage''s, making the Heal spell an outlier rather than the norm. While a mage could invoke spells to unlock locks or disarm traps, they didn''t possess the unbounded proficiency in those tasks that a rogue did.


    The longer I mused on it, the more evident the drawbacks became. I needed to tread carefully if I wanted to survive in this place.


    I wasn''t brimming with confidence that all would go according to plan, yet with my guardian ogre at the forefront, exploring the fortress went without a hitch. There were no traps in sight, and any locked doors we encountered were promptly dealt with by the brute strength of my ogre.


    The fortress was relatively uncomplicated in its design, composed of a primary tower, an isolated living quarters building, and a surrounding elliptical stone wall. Guard towers dotted the main gate and various points along the battlements, suggesting a design intent on function over aesthetics. The jail compound, where I was previously held, was adjoined to the living quarters. The main tower spanned three stories above ground and a single basement level. Generally, the basement served as storage, the first floor was a largely open space, an office occupied the second floor, while the third floor housed additional living quarters.


    In Karyon''s room, located in the tower''s living quarters, I found my pilfered Bag of Holding, along with the remainder of my belongings. The first action I took was to upend the bag, ensuring the presence of my spellbook. Indeed, there it was, thick as a hefty tome, emblazoned with "Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros¡¯s Spellbook" in golden filigree on its cover. Once I was satisfied that I had indeed reclaimed the genuine article, I exhaled a sigh of profound relief.


    I also managed to recover my robe and other gear. Although it was my first time donning them, both the robe and boots felt well-worn and comfortably broken in.


    Regrettably, my Staff was currently petrified along with Karyon, who was undoubtedly becoming one with the moss back in the courtyard. I made a mental note to retrieve it later.


    "It appears we''re nestled on a mountain..."


    Upon gazing out of the window in Karyon''s chamber, I realized that the fortress was nestled on the flank of a precipitous mountain peak. A dense forest encircled the fortress, with only a narrow, winding path offering a means of descent. I surmised that if I followed the path, it would eventually lead to a town or village.


    "How could it have slipped my mind?!" I exclaimed.


    As I exited the tower and surveyed the courtyard, my eyes were drawn to the jail compound. A crucial detail resurfaced in my thoughts.


    "I must rescue that young woman!"

 Chapter 3: Dang, how could I let it slip?

    "Dang, how could I let it slip?"


    I muttered to myself, securing my Bag of Holding to my waist as I hurried towards the prison complex.


    I should have made her liberation my top priority. Instead, I''d wasted hours exploring, leaving her to languish in confinement. The sun was beginning to set, and I berated myself for expecting events to unfold like in a fantasy tale.


    When I finally arrived at the young woman''s cell, I was out of breath. "Are you... alright in there?" I managed to ask between gasps.


    Her eyes widened, and she cried out, "No! Stay back!"


    Puzzled, I stammered, "Hey, it''s okay! There''s no need to be scared of me!"


    "Keep your distance, you vile creature! You Fiend!"


    In that moment, I realized her gaze wasn''t fixed on me but on something behind me. I turned slowly...


    "Groo?" My loyal ogre guard, who had followed me into the prison, cocked his head quizzically, awaiting my command.


    "I...uh, didn''t mean to spook you. Could you hear me out for a sec? I''m not with those bandit guys or any... beast, as you put it. I''m not here to harm you."


    Silence was her only response.


    The young woman had retreated to the farthest corner of her cell, casting me cautious glances. I quickly dismissed Groo, but the damage was done¡ªhis presence had already scared her.


    Upon closer inspection, I realized describing her as a young woman was fitting. She was likely in her late teens, dressed in a plain, sweat-soaked dress that clung to her form and highlighted her curves. Her hair was a cascade of fiery curls, and her spirited disposition betrayed an energy that was almost palpable. She looked ready to lash out if I got any closer. Nevertheless, I steeled myself for another attempt at communication.


    "I swear to you, I''m not deceiving you. That creature I just dismissed is a being I conjured through magic to serve me. There''s no cause for alarm."


    "But if you can summon such a fiend... doesn''t that make you one of them?"


    The term "fiend" came up again. It must be a unique term here in Dravus. Given that my ogres are consistently mistaken for these "Fiends," there must be some resemblance. Yet, based on this girl''s reaction and the bandits'' earlier responses, these "fiends" were clearly feared and despised.


    "I''m just a mage, a practitioner of magic," I tried again.


    "Mage? And what am I to make of that?"


    Considering her reaction and the earlier conversation with Karyon, it seemed likely there was no equivalent term in the Dravus tongue for my form of magic, or perhaps the concept was simply obscure. From what I''d gathered, my magic and what Karyon referred to as "weaving" were likely two distinct systems, functioning in entirely different manners. It might explain why my protective spell failed against Karyon''s ice arrow...


    I caught myself, halting the train of thought. Those inquiries would have to wait. There was a more immediate issue at hand.


    "Listen, if I were allied with those bandits, do you think they would have tossed me around like a ragdoll and thrown me into a cell? You saw them dragging me out of that one over there, didn''t you?"


    "Maybe... a disagreement among yourselves?" she suggested, her voice hesitant.


    I tried to see the situation through her eyes. It was fair that she was skeptical of a stranger who had suddenly appeared, proclaiming that he was here to liberate her. Even I was struggling to wrap my head around the bizarre chain of events that had led me to this point. However, I believed she was beginning to grasp some of what I was saying. If I remained patient, I could possibly persuade her...


    I exhaled deeply. Convincing her proved to be tougher than I had anticipated. If I weren''t my usual forty-year-old self but resembled the dashing, golden-haired High Elf, Emberus Blazeus Xandros, as described in my character sheet, would she have trusted me instantly? A sudden realization struck me. Even if she didn''t, Emberus had spells like Charm at his disposal. If I simply cast Charm on her, I...


    "What am I thinking!" I barked, smacking my forehead against the iron bars of the cell.


    "Why... why did you do that?!" she yelped, taken aback.


    Even though it was a fleeting thought, I couldn''t forgive myself for even contemplating the use of Charm. It was the most significant moral lapse I''d had up until this point. My head pounded, but that was nothing compared to the self-reproach I felt. I deserved this pain.


    The spell Charm does precisely what it implies. It grants the caster control over another individual''s mind. As I thought of it, I was filled with revulsion. It was hard to imagine anything more manipulative and self-serving. This wasn''t a game. Real lives were at stake.


    "Because she... won''t listen... to you! That doesn''t give you... the right!" I yelled, punctuating each phrase with another headbutt against the iron bars.


    I was aware, in some distant part of my mind, that I was losing control. This emotional outburst, in front of a girl I barely knew, was hardly going to help my case. But I was terrified. Terrified that if I didn''t condemn this gross misuse of my powers immediately, if I allowed it to happen just once, I would be tempted to repeat it again and again. This gradual indulgence could be my undoing.


    "Please, stop! You''re bleeding!" she cried.


    As might have been predicted, my forehead was split open. Blood trickled into my eye, causing a wave of pain to wash over me.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "What''s gotten into you?! Why would you do that?!"


    "I... I''m truly sorry. I... uh... Huh?"


    Wiping my forehead on my robe, I felt something being pressed into my hand. A handkerchief.


    "You''re bleeding everywhere! Cover your wound with this and apply pressure!"


    "Uh... alright..."


    Without thinking, I did as she instructed. I held the handkerchief to my forehead. She had moved from the corner of her cell, close enough to pass the handkerchief through the bars.


    "Th-thank you..."


    Ignoring the fact that I had healing potions in my Bag of Holding, I thanked her and slumped down onto the ground.


    Silence hung heavy in the cell for a few moments.


    Her sweet face was a mixture of a grimace and a frown as she looked down at me. I couldn''t blame her. Only moments earlier, she had seen a grown man batter his head against the bars of her cell in a fit of self-inflicted madness. But at least her fear seemed to have receded, replaced with exasperation. And my self-anger had ebbed away, too. I had another chance to make my point.


    "I''m sorry you had to witness that..."


    "Alright..."


    "I don''t expect you to accept everything instantly, but could you at least listen to what I have to say?"


    "Well..."


    Her voice faded into silence as she pondered for a moment. She then sat down on the other side of the bars, facing me. Her posture allowed a glimpse of her right leg from beneath her dress. Once settled, she reached out and began to knead her right ankle.


    "Fine. I''ll listen," she conceded, finally.


    I had made it through the initial hurdle. Clutching the girl''s handkerchief to my forehead, I straightened myself and met her gaze.


    "Thank you again for the handkerchief. I''ll make sure it''s cleaned and returned to you."


    "You need not fret about that..."


    "Before we talk, I have a small matter to attend to," I announced, reaching into my Bag of Holding and retrieving a cup and a brass bottle.


    "Is that some kind of... alcoholic beverage?" she inquired.


    "No, it''s a healing potion. It''s used to heal injuries."


    To be precise, the bottle was a valuable magic item known as the Bottle of Endless Potions. Despite its compact dimensions, it could store up to ten doses of potion, refilling itself each dawn.


    At present, it contained a basic healing potion, akin to the ones typically encountered in fantasy games.


    "Then you should use it," the girl suggested.


    "Pardon?" I responded, perplexed.


    Ah, she believes it''s for the laceration on my forehead, I realized, suddenly recalling my own state.


    "No, no, this is for you. I presumed you might need it. Have you sustained any injuries?"


    "No, I''m unharmed, thank you," she answered, shaking her head.


    Yet, I remained doubtful, especially since she had been massaging her ankle just moments before.


    "It''s not poisoned. I''ll consume the first portion to demonstrate there''s no danger," I assured, pouring the crimson liquid into the cup.


    The potion emitted a sweet fragrance, and as I downed it in one gulp, the taste resembled an exceedingly sweet alcoholic drink¡ªbordering on excessive sweetness. Nevertheless, I could sense my recuperation.


    "See, it''s healed," I declared confidently, though I was still somewhat amazed. The wound on my forehead closed in no time.


    "Here, you should have the next serving," I offered, refilling the cup with the healing potion and extending it to the girl.


    "But you shouldn''t waste something so precious on me... it''s merely a sprained ankle," she protested.


    "Consider it an apology for frightening you earlier. Please accept it."


    The girl hesitated. It seemed her reluctance stemmed less from distrust and more from the worry of accepting something she might struggle to repay. Given her prior confusion about the term "mage," I was astonished she had grasped the concept of a healing potion so quickly.


    I would surmise it''s roughly equivalent to "a costly balm that knits wounds together."


    "You know, traversing back to your home will be a daunting task if your feet are in pain," I asserted, nudging the conversation further. "Especially if you opt to forgo my assistance."


    "That''s... an astute observation. In that case, I''ll accept it... but I assure you, I''ll repay this kindness," the girl responded, somewhat hesitantly, before imbibing the potion.


    In the immediate moments that followed, a notable brightness returned to the girl''s face.


    "It''s not sore anymore!" she declared joyfully, flexing her foot and extending her leg. Caught in her exhilaration, her dress hitched upward, revealing her thighs. While it wasn''t entirely my place to say, I found myself wishing she''d display a tad more caution, given her youth.


    "Huh? Oh! My apologies! I suppose I got a bit overexcited." Noticing my gaze, the girl blushed, hastily rearranging the hem of her dress. Her response was endearingly charming.


    "I''m relieved to see it worked," I said.


    "Thank you so much! I regret the harsh words I spoke earlier about you."


    "So, do you trust me now?"


    "Well, I trust that you''re here to help me, at least."


    That''ll suffice, I mused, exhaling a sigh of relief. In America, even an initial encounter would already foster a certain degree of shared understanding to build upon. Aside from a few exceptions, both individuals could anticipate the other to abide by the same societal norms, the same frame of reference. Back home, even strangers understand they coexist in the same society, safeguarded by the same regulations.


    In this foreign realm, my usual reliance on shared understandings was no longer a crutch I could lean on. The fact that I was at last able to establish meaningful communication with another human being (the terse exchanges with Karyon and the bandits were hardly worth mentioning) provided immense solace.


    "So, could you perhaps facilitate my escape from here? Do you possess the key?" she inquired.


    "Ah, of course. Please hold on a moment," I responded, realizing the urgency of the situation. This was no time to bask in relief. Having made my decision, my foremost responsibility was to ensure the safe return of this girl to her home.


    Standing upright, I commenced the invocation of a spell. "Through this enchantment, any lock I lay my touch upon shall yield to my will, offering free passage. Skeleton Key."


    Upon the spell''s completion, the cell door''s lock responded, freeing itself of its own accord.


    "That''s incredible," the girl expressed, her eyes wide with awe as she stepped out of her confinement. She stretched, almost as if testing the reality of her newfound freedom, before pivoting towards me and offering a respectful bow.


    "I am Lana, daughter of Leo, a merchant from the city of Trelis. I apologize for my earlier rudeness. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."


    Listening to her formal introduction, I couldn''t help but think some of the greenhorns at my previous company could stand to learn a thing or two from her.


    "I am Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros. Indeed, the pleasure is mine," I responded with a nod.


    Once we had vacated the prison compound, I promptly commanded the ogres to establish a security perimeter. However, this incited an immediate reaction from Lana. "If people see us with these, they''ll think we''re in collusion with the Fiends! Do you wish to have the Inquisition on our tails?!"


    Lana''s outburst contained a few unfamiliar terms, but I deemed it best to follow her advice. Disengaging my magical grasp, the half-dozen ogres dissipated into nothingness as if they were mere illusions.


    "You... you really did conjure those fiends, didn''t you?" Lana queried.


    "They''re ogres... and I used wizardry, not weaving..." I corrected her under my breath.


    There were still numerous uncertainties I needed to address, so I opted to accompany Lana into the tower where we could engage in a more thorough conversation.


    "Erm... What is... that?"


    As we progressed towards the tower, Lana''s gaze landed on the toppled statue of Karyon in the courtyard. Her reaction was justified; the sight was far from pleasant.


    "That''s the... ''weaver'' who supposedly led the bandits."


    "But... it''s a statue."


    "Indeed, I transmuted him into one. With magic."


    "I see... Interesting."


    Up until then, Lana had been maintaining pace with me, but now, she subtly fell back, maintaining a few steps of distance between us.


    At the very least, she didn''t flee.

 Chapter 4: Thanks for the Scrumptious Meal

    "Thanks for the scrumptious meal, Lana. It was delectable," I said, pushing back from the rustic table we were ensconced at on the ground level of the ancient tower. Sunset had painted its last strokes, leaving us in the company of night. Yet, the crackling hearth provided both a gentle warmth and a golden illumination, painting the chamber with its inviting light. The hall was outfitted with numerous tables and benches, suggesting it was more than a mere dwelling for the brigands¡ªa meeting point, a dining area. A versatile space they had crafted within the stone structure.


    "Truly? You found it pleasing?" Lana''s eyes sparkled with surprise and a touch of pride.


    Upon our arrival, a gnawing hunger reminded us of its persistent presence. The need for sustenance superseded all other concerns, and it was quickly decided¡ªdinner must be procured. To our good fortune, the brigands'' larder was far from barren. Deeming it a necessary pilferage, we selected enough for a modest meal. Lana took charge of our impromptu kitchen, her swift hands grilling the dry meat and cheese, carefully carving bread slices, and simmering a simple bean soup. My offer to assist was silenced by her brisk efficiency. It seemed I would be a stumbling block rather than a helper.


    Ravenous as I was, I devoured the meal without allowing a moment''s pause to savor the taste. Yet, even in my haste, the satisfying deliciousness was undeniable.


    "So, shall we transition to conversation now?" I proposed, eager to move to the next step of our evening.


    "Whenever you are ready," Lana responded, settling herself comfortably.


    The initial topic of discussion would be my circumstances¡ªa broad explanation, careful not to reveal too much. I was curious about Lana''s knowledge of Dravus, but I deemed it prudent to establish a base of trust first. That didn¡¯t mean I could divulge every minute detail of my life. How do I articulate my story without exposing too much? An intricate dance of words was required.


    "I hail from a land far off... possibly across a vast sea, maybe even two, a land known as A-Ameria."


    She nodded, her face an open canvas of curiosity.


    "Alright..."


    Ameria was a creation of my friends and me, a fictional realm born from our T&T adventures. Emberus, a character of our creation, hailed from Ameria, per his carefully crafted history. A slip of the tongue, not an outright lie. Yet, Lana''s expression betrayed her disbelief.


    "Honestly," I confessed, "my presence here is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. I have no recollection of my journey. A plausible explanation might be an arcane mishap, akin to your concept of weaving. This incident could have hurled me into this land, robbing me of consciousness in the process. The brigands, I assume, chanced upon my unconscious form and took me here."


    "I see," she said, her voice a murmur of understanding.


    She listened, attentively, to my ramblings. Yet, a cloud of skepticism loomed over her face. I couldn''t blame her. The implausibility of my tale was glaring, even to me. However, it was still a shade better than confessing my roots lie in the United States of America on a planet known as Earth.


    "Therefore," I continued, "I may exhibit certain behaviors or express certain views that might appear eccentric, in comparison to the customs here, or across this entire land. I assure you, though, I am nothing like that malevolent weaver, Karyon. If there''s one truth I''d like you to believe, it''s that I harbor no ill intent."


    My declaration came with an intensity, but it was necessary to lay all my cards on the table. I could only hope that Lana found my tale believable, or at least saw sincerity in my character. I concluded my speech with a respectful bow of my head.


    "I accept your word," she responded.


    "I''m grateful, truly."


    "To be frank," Lana said, her eyes thoughtful, "the first half of your tale is somewhat hard to digest, yet I believe it''s safe to assume you''re no Black Weaver."


    "That''s all I ask, Lana. I am once again in your debt. Thank you."


    A profound sigh of relief found its escape within me. Earning someone''s trust was indeed a laborious task, yet the reward was undeniably fulfilling. Now, it was imperative to maintain consistency with the narrative I''d spun for her.


    "You certainly are an oddity, Mr. Emberus. A Weaver who possesses a surname and yet treats me with such warmth," she mused.


    "In my land, extending kindness and respect to women is a basic decency, and bearing a last name doesn''t necessarily confer any special status," I explained.


    "In Vindaris, the city of my upbringing, surnames are a luxury afforded only to the nobility. Those capable of weaving usually hail from noble or affluent lineages." Her words seemed to confirm the notion of this realm being reminiscent of a ''sword-and-sorcery'' world as the deity had mentioned. The societal structure here appeared to resemble medieval Europe, with a rigid class hierarchy.


    "It appears this land vastly differs from my own... Ah, this is excellent," I complimented, savoring a gulp of a beverage Lana had poured for me. It was called Silken Brew, its refreshing bitterness intriguing to my palate.


    "Moving forward, Lana, would you care to share how you ended up captured by the brigands here?"


    A frown formed on Lana''s face, and she nodded solemnly.


    Her father, Leo, was a merchant rooted in the city of Vindaris.


    Vindaris was a member of a coalition of city-states lining the edges of the expansive Lake Lumeos, forming the collective known as the Lumeos Concord. Leo, despite amassing considerable wealth, often journeyed in person with his caravan along his trade routes, with Lana accompanying him as his aide.


    During one such journey, the bond between father and daughter not just metaphorical but also reflected in their shared profession, they found themselves under the assault of brigands. This event unfolded in the early hours of the morning, just a day before my unexpected arrival in Dravus.


    Encounters with brigands were not an uncommon ordeal for Lana and Leo. As Lana recounted, such unfortunate meetings punctuated their travels regularly¡ªone in every three trips, approximately. The brigands typically demanded a third of their goods and coin, deeming it a ''fee'' for passage through their claimed territory. I found a third to be a steep demand, but Lana explained that it was comparable to the tolls local lords levied on well-secured routes. Regardless, such additional costs were accounted for in their goods'' pricing.


    However, the most recent encounter had deviated from this pattern. The brigands had demanded a complete surrender of their possessions. Leo had the foresight to employ mercenaries for the caravan''s protection, but they weren''t equipped to repel a whole group of determined brigands. Unsurprisingly, they yielded without resistance. Yet, the brigands'' greed was not satiated. Dissatisfied with merely taking Leo''s belongings, they kidnapped Lana, demanding a ransom of five thousand gold coins for her safe return.


    "And after that, they brought you here?" I questioned.


    "Yes... This is an unprecedented experience for us. I suspect the brigands altered their behavior after that Black Weaver assumed leadership," Lana replied.


    In Dravus, it appeared that weavers were not only rare but were also regarded with fear due to their overwhelming power. The mere association with one was sufficient to transform ''peaceful'' brigands into unabashed plunderers.


    According to Lana, my arrival had been mere hours after hers. One could argue it was fortuitous timing, providing me with the opportunity to intervene on her behalf.


    "By now, my father should have reached the village of Maridal. There, he might seek assistance from the local knightly order for my rescue or attempt to assemble the ransom sum," Lana surmised.


    "I understand... In light of this, we should plan our departure for the break of dawn. We must reach Maridal posthaste," I proposed.


    "Yes, let''s! I can''t begin to express my gratitude!" Lana responded, her voice filled with hope.


    "What a day," I sighed, reflecting upon the recent events.


    We decided Lana would rest in the chamber on the tower''s third tier while I occupied the second.


    Gazing out the window at the moon, it was a sight identical to what I had grown accustomed to. With the quiet of the night affording me some respite, I found myself overwhelmed by my thoughts. My recent experiences, far removed from anything I had known or felt comfortable with¡ªa colossal understatement¡ªhad left me utterly spent.


    What if the brigands return? I pondered. How will I ensure Lana''s safe return home? How am I to forge a life in this unfamiliar world?


    Fortuitously, I had the luxury of time. The night was still in its infancy. Savoring my Silken Brew, I braced myself for a long, contemplative night...


    "Hey! How long do you plan to slumber?!"


    "What?!"


    Before I knew it, the veil of night had lifted, and the break of dawn heralded the onset of the morning. Lana was prodding me awake, and I groggily realized I had drifted to sleep at the desk situated in the second-tier chamber. In simpler terms, I was utterly vulnerable. What if the brigands had returned? I scolded myself. My prolonged residence in a peaceful society had made me complacent... I had to be more vigilant in the future.


    "We have a meal for the road ready, let''s depart!" Lana declared.


    Post-breakfast, Lana appeared prepared for our journey. However, there was an oddity that I needed to question.


    "What''s with the sack?" I queried.


    Adorned in her one-piece attire, Lana was shouldering an enormous hemp sack. The sight was reminiscent of a caricature of a thief, or perhaps a refugee fleeing a natural disaster with their worldly possessions.


    "These are some of the items the brigands pilfered from my father. I can''t carry it all, but I thought I should at least recover some," Lana responded.


    I found myself rooted to the spot. Of course, this was the brigands'' stronghold. It stood to reason she''d find her father''s stolen goods here, probably alongside loot from others as well. I recalled the numerous items stashed in the tower''s basement during my inspection. Had this been a TTRPG, I might have seized everything I discovered then and there, including Lana''s father''s possessions. Had I done so and Lana discovered my actions, I would''ve risked jeopardizing the trust she had placed in me. A narrow escape indeed.


    "Could you hold on a moment? I need to tend to something first," I proposed.


    "What do you need to do?" Lana questioned, her eagerness to depart visible.


    Even though Lana seemed ready to bolt out the front gate, I beckoned her back and began the incantation for a spell.


    "Wha-? Where did that steed spring from?!" Lana exclaimed, her eyes wide.


    I had just completed the incantation for Summon Greater Steed, a Rank 4 spell. The result was the appearance of a black-maned pegasus in the fortress courtyard. Lana was evidently taken aback.


    "Given the precipitous nature of our mountainous journey and the urgency to reach Maridal Village, a horse seemed the most prudent option. Moreover, we have some additional cargo to carry," I explained.


    The pegasus was enveloped in a soft, blue-white glow. This wasn''t an ordinary steed but a superior entity capable of surpassing the limitations inherent to common mounts.


    With the first spell complete, my gaze shifted to the statue of Karyon, the ''additional cargo'' I mentioned. I then began incanting the subsequent spell.


    "It''s... it''s levitating!" Lana exclaimed in shock.


    The spell I recited was Sprite Porter, a spell that created an unseen servant tasked with carrying our load. Being a Rank 1 spell, this invisible porter could only lift objects and follow the spellcaster, but it was capable of supporting substantial weight. First, the unseen servant took hold of Lana''s bag, then effortlessly hoisted up the statue of Karyon. The sight of the two objects seemingly floating in midair, unsupported, was undoubtedly eerie.


    "There are a few more spells I''d like to conjure, but I believe it''s best if we make our start," I said, climbing onto the majestic, winged steed and extending a hand to Lana.


    "Ah... alright!" she responded, and I grasped her hand, helping her mount the Pegasus.


    Lana''s hand wasn''t akin to the delicate, ladylike hands often depicted in tales of fantasy. It was rough, hardened from a life of labor and assisting her father, yet it radiated warmth.


    "I suppose this would be the moment to shout ''Ride forth, Shadowfax!'' would it not?" I quipped. Lana returned my jest with a confused gaze.


    I had last mounted a horse on a ranch in Texas several decades prior, yet the process of clambering atop the Pegasus and gripping the reins came surprisingly naturally. According to the basic rules of T&T, each character inherently possesses rudimentary horse riding skills. Therefore, presuming these mechanics were faithfully implemented by God, it was likely these inborn abilities, rather than my own personal experience, facilitated this newfound proficiency. That being said, the Pegasus, being a summoned creature of my own spell, would attempt to obey my commands regardless of my personal horsemanship capabilities.


    With Lana seated behind me, adopting the sidesaddle posture, I could feel her nerves. Taking care not to jostle her and risk her falling off, I guided the Pegasus into a gentle canter. A glance over my shoulder revealed the statue of Karyon and Lana''s bag seemingly hovering behind us¡ªan uncanny sight indeed. Nevertheless, we were making progress. We ventured beneath the gate arch, exiting the fortress.


    The gate faced southward, offering scant flat terrain. Beyond the gate, the ground dropped sharply, leading onto a single winding path that descended the mountain. The western face of the fortress bordered a sheer cliff, and the remaining two sides were met by steep drop-offs. A military siege on such a fortress would be an arduous task indeed, I mused. It was rather remarkable that such a stronghold could be constructed in such a locale to begin with...


    "We must hasten to the village to inform my father of my safety, then promptly return... I harbor concerns about leaving our goods unattended here," Lana voiced, her expression earnest and serious.


    "Indeed, we can''t predict when the brigands may return. It seems prudent to take some protective measures," I agreed.


    "Protective measures? Such as what?" Lana queried.


    I turned my gaze toward the fortress''s towering defensive ramparts and began to weave my next spell. "Architectural Manipulation!"


    "Wh-what is this Weaving now?!" Lana exclaimed in alarm as the very earth beneath us¡ªmore specifically, the terrain underlying the fortress¡ªcommenced an ominous trembling.


    "The f-fortress! It''s ascending?!" she gasped.


    Architectural manipulation is a spell that bestows upon the caster the ability to reshape and relocate a portion of land or earth as they see fit. With a resonant rumble, the very ground upon which the fortress was erected began to elongate vertically. The entire structure ascended. Once the edifice had been hoisted approximately twenty meters into the air, I solidified its position.


    Upon the completion of my task, the only visible aspect of the fortress was the cliff face it now adhered to. "This should deter any potential intruders, at least until our return," I stated.


    Lana remained silent. Turning to her, I found her gaze locked upward, her eyes and mouth agape in sheer awe of the floating fortress. While she remained mesmerized, I took the opportunity to cast a few protective spells on myself. We could not predict what kind of dangers we might encounter on our journey.


    "Apologies for the delay. Shall we proceed then?" I proposed, finally ready to depart.


    "Um... Y-yes, let''s go!" she stuttered, snapping out of her stupor.


    With a subtle nudge of my heels, a gesture more for appearance''s sake, the winged steed had already begun responding to my mental directives. It broke into a gallop, not across the ground, but... up into the sky.


    "Oh God!" I couldn''t suppress an exclamation, momentarily struck silent. "We''re genuinely soaring through the skies!"


    A scream rang out from Lana, her voice echoing in the crisp, open air.


    Only a handful of minutes had passed before our Pegasus was serenely pacing along the mountainside pathway, the two of us securely mounted on its back. I brought my hand to my lips, gagging as I wrestled with the urge to expel my breakfast.


    "In the future, could you possibly exercise a bit more forethought before embarking on such ventures?" Lana implored, her voice laced with the remnants of her panic. "Remember, I''m unaccustomed to your Surgebinding¡ªor was it wizardry, as you termed it? Regardless, what if we had plummeted to our demise?"


    "Point well noted... My apologies... Ugh..." I conceded weakly, my stomach still roiling.


    The experience of commandeering a steed through the open sky, a medley of novel sensations all at once, had been nothing short of exhilarating... for the briefest of moments.


    But swiftly, the complications began to emerge. Firstly, Lana was instantly thrown into a frenzy. Secondly, it wasn''t long before my own stomach succumbed to the discomfort of motion sickness. The ride was replete with sudden ascents and descents that one would not typically associate with equine travel. Thirdly, if Lana''s father was in the midst of returning to the fortress with the required ransom, our airborne journey might lead us astray. The forest-hugged mountain trail was not easily discernible from our lofty perspective. For all these reasons, we elected to resume our journey by land, despite the delay it might cause in reaching Maridal Village.


    To our relief, I discovered that as long as the Pegasus'' hooves were planted firmly on the ground, the journey was rather steady. This was a welcome revelation considering the twisting and turning forest pathway wasn''t precisely ideal terrain for a horse.


    Beyond these matters, Lana enlightened me that we would intersect with the main road after a half day''s travel. If we took a westerly course, we would arrive in Vandaris City; an eastward direction would deliver us to Maridal Village.


    After approximately two hours of steady riding, I was about to propose a pause for our midday meal when Lana suddenly broke the silence.


    "Your abilities are strikingly distinct from the weavers I am familiar with, Mister Emberus."


    "Do you truly believe so?" I inquired, a brow arched in mild surprise. "Have you encountered weavers and observed their spellcraft in the past?"


    "Indeed, Vandaris boasts of a thriving weavers'' guild. My work alongside my father once necessitated a journey with an Elemental-Weaver who had been a member of an adventuring party. She''s a kind soul, but quite unlike you..."


    The existence of a weaver''s guild intrigued me. Adventurers, too... What other unexpected facets of Dravus awaited my discovery?


    As Lana and I directed the Pegasus away from the fortress, descending the serpentine mountain pathway, we arrived at a consensus that we might not be the only inhabitants of this formidable mountain.


    Our conjecture proved to be disturbingly accurate.


    In the middle reaches of the mountain, the tranquil atmosphere was polluted by the sinister unfolding of events. Unwittingly oblivious to the situation, we remained ignorant of the malevolent forces that mobilized between the fortress and the main road, swarms of beastly creatures shrieking in horrific harmony, scaling the tree-infested incline on all fours.


    "Gree! Gi-gree!"


    These beasts ¨C humanoid, though just barely ¨C possessed distorted limbs, crimson skin that appeared as if scorched by a relentless sun, and golden eyes ablaze with wicked intent. Short horns, pronounced ears, and cries that mirrored the spine-chilling sound of metallic claws scraping against metallic skin constituted their grotesque ensemble Their numerous teeth clattered together in a symphony of threat with each opening of their maws. Clutched in their gnarled hands were rudimentary axes, spears, and clubs. Though their stature was modest ¨C about one and a half meters if they chose to stand on their hind legs ¨C they exuded an aura of animosity and contempt. And their abhorrence was most fervently directed towards their age-old adversary: mankind.


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    These monstrous beings were what the residents of Dravus ominously referred to as fiends.


    Sprinting ahead of the swarm of fiends were their quarry: a mixed group of six adventurers, both men and women.


    "Who would have imagined a gathering of fiends of such magnitude!" cried out Petr, the leader of the group, his voice echoing amidst the pandemonium.


    Petr was a seasoned ranger tied to the Adventurers'' Guild. At the age of thirty-two, he had already earned veteran status within the guild. The party under his judicious leadership was widely respected as one of Vandaris'' most capable. His build was tall and lean, wrapped in flexible leather armor and high boots, their design tailored for agility. Attached to his belt were a dagger, a short sword, and a pouch brimming with herbs; a bow, a quiver stocked with arrows, and a backpack slung over his should His practical outfit, a common trait among experienced adventurers, was complemented by a face marked by sharp lines of acute intelligence.


    Returning from a separate adventure, Petr and his group crossed paths with the merchant Leo in Maridal Village. Leo, being a purveyor of arms and armor masterfully forged by dwarven smiths, frequently interacted with adventurers, making him a known figure to Petr.


    In Maridal, Leo had approached Petr and his team, seeking their help to rescue his daughter from the clutches of a bandit group. After thoughtful consideration, Petr and his team agreed to Leo''s request. Though Petr had heard whispers of a sorcerer taking over the leadership of the bandits, the potential danger seemed outweighed by the generous reward of three thousand gold coins that Leo had offered for the safe return of his daughter. The decision had been made the previous night.


    The dawn of the next day was still a few hours away when Petr and his party departed from Maridal, their sights set on the bandits'' fortress tucked away in the mountains. Opting for discretion, they chose to navigate through the dense woods rather than take the main, more frequented path.


    The decision might have borne fruit had they not run into an unforeseen and highly unfortunate turn of events.


    "Gree! Gi-gree!"


    Fleeing from a horde of fiends presented a completely unique challenge compared to battling organized human forces or even unstructured bandits. The actions of human collectives are invariably guided by an array of factors: strategic planning, directives from a leader, and the interplay of emotions such as rage, dread, anticipation, and excitement Fiends, however, didn''t adhere to these typical behavioral drivers. Their motivations were steeped in a singular, profoundly evil impulse:


    The thirst for human blood and the unalloyed joy they derived from sowing death.


    To the adventurers, it was as if they were being pursued by a relentless, murderous wave of darkness.


    The bulk of the fiendish horde was made up of the most diminutive among their kind, creatures ominously dubbed as curseling. Though not known for their speed, these creatures were nonetheless gaining ground, each curseling scurrying with a singular, mad focus...and gradually, their relentless pace was starting to pay off.


    "Three-second counter! Now!" shouted Petr, the creatures advancing so close that their slavering tongues were all too visible.


    "Roger that!"


    "Understood!"


    "Right away!"


    The first to pivot and face the onslaught were two rear-guard fighters of the warrior class. Both were donned in armor enhanced with chainmail, armed with round shields and single-handed swords. Among the two, the elder, grizzled man with a beard was known as David, while his youthful, still unseasoned companion was named Greg. A beat later, a warrior-priest by the name of Philip fell in line with them, solidifying their defensive formation.


    "Have at thee!" David bellowed.


    "Gi-grah?! Gree!"


    An curseling weapon raised, then lunged forward only to be met by the solid impact of David''s boot against its jaw. The creature was sent sprawling. But it was quick to recover, spinning around and launching itself back at him.


    "Confound it, David! Drop them in one strike! Otherwise, it''s our lives you''re endangering!"


    "My apologies!"


    David was suddenly faced with the curseling, now clutching his leg, its grotesquely broken jaw gaping wide. Just as it was about to sink its teeth in, Greg stepped forward and drove his sword through its neck.


    "Gree?!" A second curseling let out a bewildered screech as a dagger lodged itself in its chest.


    Vaness, the scout who had hurled the blade, remained silent as she watched the oncoming tide of fiends. Her eyes narrowed, and she prepared a second dagger for her next victim. The red-haired lass wore light gear, her protection amounting to little more than her regular travel clothes.


    "Eryn, ready yourself to impede their charge," Petr directed the sorceress by his side while he loosed arrow after arrow into the encroaching swarm.


    In the brief window it took to guide Eryn, Petr succeeded in skewering one curseling the skull and another in the neck, successfully taking down the two nearest threats in the larger swarm that continued to trail the adventurers through the trees. His prowess with the bow, both in terms of speed and accuracy, was outstanding.


    "Griiihk!"


    "Geeeya!"


    Even as the curseling were struck with fatal injuries, their perverse zeal for human flesh and blood spurred them on. One, in its blind fervor, assaulted a tree trunk, mistaking it for a human adversary. This bizarre tenacity and their singular, ruthless pursuit were among the reasons why these demons were universally abhorred and feared by humanity.


    In that brief volley of counterattacks, David had slain one curseling, Vaness two, and Petr four.


    With the vanguard of the curseling onslaught driven back, the forward momentum of the overall swarm slackened, albeit slightly.


    "Enough! Break!" Petr commanded.


    "Understood!" echoed the unified voices of the party.


    David, Greg, and Philip¡ªthe trio comprising the defensive front¡ªwere the first to pivot away from the fiends and dash away. Both Vaness and Petr held weapons suitable for ranged combat, enabling them to hold off and strike for a vital moment longer before they too turned to follow their fellow party members.


    In this formation¡ªthe heavily armored trio in the lead, followed by the pair with lighter gear¡ªthey rushed past the last member of their party, who had stationed herself higher up the slope.


    "Foul creatures!" she cried at the horde.


    The weaver, Eryn, was a striking young woman with golden curls and clear blue eyes. She wore a cloak over garments designed with maneuverability in mind.


    A moment passed, then another. The fiends, captivated by her solitary, seemingly vulnerable figure, charged at her in an unthinking frenzy.


    "Ignis: Sagitta"


    Eryn''s voice, a vital conduit for her weave manipulation, sliced through the advancing horde like a razor. She channeled her mana to the peak of her uplifted staff until it fragmented and dispersed, morphing into eight arrows of fiery incandescence mid-air.


    "Gree?!"


    "Gheee!"


    Eight blazing arrows launched with deadly intent towards eight distinct targets. Not a single one missed its mark. They enveloped their scarlet victims in radiant flame. Even the fiends'' unnatural resilience crumbled in the face of this magical inferno. Writhing and screeching, they thrashed about on the forest floor, their flailing bodies creating an obstruction for the other fiends in their race to reach the humans.


    "Enjoy the burn, won''t you?" Eryn called out in a tone that contrasted starkly with her elegant demeanor, smirking at the flailing fiends. With her taunt sent sailing into the chaos, she sprinted towards her companions. Her attire, the lightest among them, allowed her to swiftly close the gap and fall in step with the rest of her party.


    Their coordinated retaliation had momentarily widened the gulf between themselves and the savage horde. Guided by Petr''s swift commands, every member of the party had executed their roles with precision, their actions in sync. This was the edge humans held over the fiends, beings driven solely by their primal, murderous instincts. In essence, humans and fiend


    s were fundamentally distinct, existing on different ends of a vast chasm.


    "New threats approaching," Vaness alerted in a calm, measured voice. The telltale cacophony of the fiends began to echo not only from behind but also from the side.


    "Gree!"


    "Giyah! Grrr!"


    Silhouettes sprung out from the dense undergrowth, hurtling towards the adventurers, joining the pursuing swarm at their flank. A frustrated click of his tongue escaped Petr as he gestured swiftly with his hands, indicating a change of course. Even the potential danger of crossing paths with the bandits was a risk worth taking if they could reach the serpentine path snaking up the mountain. Reaching the road would provide a more defensible position, perhaps preventing them from being surrounded.


    "I''ve got something!" David''s voice echoed, his expression twisted in alarm. "A fiend!"


    The party members each drew a sharp breath as an enormous silhouette violently broke through the dense underbrush beside them. Towering over them, this netherhulk, another variant of the fiends, was easily twice the height of an curseling. Standing at a staggering three meters, its thick, gnarled horns sprouting from its head made Petr seem but a child in its presence. Boasting the same crimson hide as its smaller counterparts, the netherhulks exaggeratedly muscular form, brandishing an uprooted tree as its crude club, offered a strangely grotesque sight.


    "Gruuooo!" The netherhulks bellow resonated through the surroundings, seeming to rattle the very mountain they stood on.


    "Gods above, it''s fast!"


    Each monstrous stride of the netherhulks covered several times the distance the curselings could, propelled by its seemingly inexhaustible reserves of frenzied energy. It tore towards the adventurers, rapidly closing the gap they''d managed to put between them and the advancing horde.


    The netherhulk swung its colossal club towards David, who was shielding the party''s rear. David barely managed to hoist his shield up in time, but the raw kinetic force of the blow sent him sprawling.


    "David!" Greg cried out, rushing to his side and pulling him up by the arm.


    Philip, too, turned around, placing himself between the fallen David and the netherhulk. Despite the three-man stand against such a monstrosity and its deadly club, the odds appeared dishearteningly grim. If they''d been a typical band of adventurers, they might''ve surrendered then and there.


    "Eryn, proceed further. Secure your position. Vaness, protect her. The rest of you, distance yourselves from that creature!" Petr''s orders rang clear as he notched his bow, loosing an arrow straight into the netherhulks shoulder. Vaness and Eryn pushed on, leaving the confrontation behind. Petr''s arrow seemingly did no damage, yet it momentarily diverted netherhulks attention, granting Greg and Philip enough time to hoist David back onto his feet.


    "Grrruuu¡­ Grrahh?!" The netherhulk appeared unwilling to let the three humans escape from its grasp. Raising its club for another swing, it was caught off guard when Petr''s second arrow found its mark in the creature''s right eye.


    "Gi-gaahhh?!"


    "Who knew?" Petr''s voice rang out, a thin smirk masking his shaky sigh of relief.


    In its pain, the netherhulk misjudged its swing, and instead of connecting with its intended targets, it ripped a chunk from the ground just where David had stood seconds earlier, as Greg and Philip yanked him out of the path of destruction.


    "Keep moving!" urged Petr, as the trio, somewhat shaken, stumbled past him.


    "We''re doing our best!" Greg shot back.


    But the imminent danger was far from over. The one-eyed netherhulk showed no signs of abandoning its pursuit.


    "Ignis: flagellum!"


    Once again, Eryn''s voice resonated powerfully, causing the surrounding fiends to falter. From her staff, a whip of brilliant flame unfurled, the tendrils moving with a life of their own, defying the rules of gravity. The fiery whip shot out, entangling the netherhulk.


    "Gi-graah?!"


    As the flaming tendrils tightened around the creature, its flesh sizzled and popped, the netherhulks monstrous form illuminated by the merciless fire. The netherhulks movements were effectively halted, the intense heat and the whip''s relentless grip rendering it immobile. Within moments, the monstrous form had been transformed into a blazing beacon.


    "Gree?!"


    "Grrruu!" Despite the netherhulk being securely bound, the outermost tendrils of the flaming whip elongated further, ensnaring two massive trees and creating a blazing barrier in the fiends'' path. Regardless of the dangerous flames, the curseling fearlessly attempted to breach the fiery blockade, but each creature that made contact was consumed in the otherworldly fire.


    "Huff... Huff..."


    "Eryn, that''s incredible!"


    Arriving to join Eryn, the rest of the party were gasping for breath, their bodies slick with sweat from the relentless chase and combat. Fatigue weighed heavily on them, but the sight of the temporarily stalled fiends offered a glimmer of hope and a momentary respite for them to recoup their energy.


    "It''s only... a fleeting pause," Eryn announced.


    Eryn''s magical reserves were not perceivable to the others, yet as an adept weaver, she had an accurate sense of her remaining mana. From a full supply, she was down to a scant twenty-five units. A couple more usages of the Flagellum spell, and she''d be drained completely.


    "You''re right," said Petr. "But if we could just push a little more..."


    "Grruo!"


    Petr''s face registered a momentary shock. Two more netherhulks burst forth from the same foliage that concealed the first.


    "Are you kidding me? Three of these things? Three?!" Greg''s voice was incredulous.


    Even the seasoned members of the party were momentarily dumbstruck.


    "I suggest we continue to run," advised Petr, a hint of dry humor in his tone.


    "This is not my end, not yet!" Eryn''s voice echoed determination.


    Both Petr and Eryn were far from surrendering. They were well aware that the flaming whip''s barrier would hold for mere seconds before the netherhulks breached it or the other fiends found a workaround. But every moment it did hold gave them precious seconds to increase the distance from their pursuers. Together, they worked to bolster the morale of the rest of the party.


    "I won''t fall here," Eryn vowed, determination lighting her blue eyes, when suddenly a colossal detonation engulfed the fiends.


    "Eee..."


    "Gree...ee..."


    "What is that noise?" I mused out loud.


    As Lana and I leisurely traveled down the mountain path atop the Pegasus, a strange cry resonated in the distance. A howling monkey, perhaps? The cry seemed malevolent, not the sound of a lone creature, but echoing from a multitude of sources... It appeared to originate from further down the trail.


    "Lana, can you identify that?" I asked, seeking Lana''s insight.


    Instead of an answer, Lana barely suppressed a scream. Her complexion had drained of color, her body trembling as she clutched my robes.


    "What''s wrong? Are you alright?"


    "M-Mister Ember..." Lana stuttered, a look of pure terror etched onto her face. "Th-those... are the cries of fiends."


    "Fiends?"


    "L-Legends speak of fiends assailing Vandaris... and...my mother... she..." Lana''s voice faltered, unable to continue.


    Fiends... Fiends, the word echoed in my thoughts. The bandits had mentioned them as well. Could they be akin to ogres? Observing Lana''s shaken demeanor, I decided we should halt our journey and dismount.


    "But my father... what if they''re attacking him?! I must reach him!" Lana burst out.


    "Hold on! Just a moment!"


    As soon as our feet touched the ground, Lana began to dash away. My hand shot out to clutch her shoulder, pulling her back just before she could sprint down the trail.


    "Let me go! My father might be down there!" Lana shouted, her voice choked with tears streaking down her face.


    I attempted to comprehend the unfolding situation. Lana''s father, Leo, could be travelling on this path towards us with the ransom money. If that''s the case, and those horrifying cries belong to fiends, then her father could be in grave danger. If fiends bear any similarity to ogres, an ordinary human wouldn''t have the slightest chance against such a beast. However, against a maximum-level mage like myself, such a creature should pose no threat...


    As I deliberated, a sequence of chilling cries pierced the silence, echoing one after another. In theory, my newfound powers should give me an immense advantage, but the fact remained that beneath the facade of a mage, I was a mere mortal. Those sinister cries sent a shiver down my spine.


    "Let me go! If my father... if he too meets his end... I... I..." Lana''s struggle ceased as she succumbed to uncontrollable sobbing.


    Life... and death. Back in America, I had never had to grapple with this harsh divide.


    Was it not just yesterday when I vowed to ensure the safe return of this girl? What would that promise mean if I escorted her back to a home devoid of her father''s presence?


    A nervous dryness clawed at my throat as I initiated a spellcasting. "By virtue of this enchantment, for one hour, one target shall be safeguarded by a mana barrier. Mana Shield."


    "M-Mister Ember?"


    Even while maintaining my hold on Lana, I successfully executed a Rank 1 spell. I could feel the frenzied energy manifesting into an unseen protective shield around her. There was no time for extensive spellcasting, yet it was crucial to take the most rudimentary precautions.


    In case matters spiraled out of control, Lana and I could always resort to fleeing on the Pegasus.


    "Let''s proceed. If your father is indeed in peril... I shall be his savior."


    Remounting our spectral steed, we spurred it into a frantic gallop down the mountain path. Lana clung to me, her arms securely around my waist. To our left was a rocky cliff, and to the right, a precipitous fall. The path itself barely extended to three meters at any point.


    The Pegasus, guided by my thoughts rather than any physical reins, exhibited rapid responsiveness to the path''s alterations. Despite our swift pace, I found a certain trust in the horse not to stumble or send us flying. Therefore, it wasn''t the exhilaration of our ride that clouded my face with worry. My concern stemmed from the impending confrontation with the fiends. This would be my maiden battle, against adversaries of which I had minimal knowledge.


    "Greee!"


    "Gigigigi!"


    By then, the cacophony of growls and shrieks formed an unending undercurrent to our journey. I was cognizant that we were soon to stumble upon their source.


    But the reality of the encounter arrived far swifter than anticipated.


    "Look! Over yonder!" Lana cried, directing my gaze to the right, down the incline.


    "Greee!"


    "Gigigigi!"


    I issued an urgent halt command to our pegasus and found myself gazing downward. A smattering of men and women were struggling up the slope, with a multitude of distorted shadows hot on their heels.


    "So, those are the fiends..." I mused aloud.


    The armored contingent was a good twenty meters ahead of the looming shadows.


    The shadows resembled grotesque, emaciated childlike figures. They were still quite distant, but they bore a striking resemblance to goblins ¨C those low-level beasts ubiquitous in fantasy role-playing games.


    However, as their golden eyes flashed with a vicious hatred and their shrieks of pursuit rang in my ears, I couldn''t dismiss them merely as low-level threats. Instead, a primal fear started to take hold. The scene stirred up images of an ant army overwhelming its quarry.


    "It''s not my father... It''s Petr... and Eryn!" Lana leaned forward, identifying individuals within the scrambling group.


    Could these be people she''s familiar with?


    "There are even netherhulks!" Lana gasped, aghast at the sight.


    netherhulks, the term echoed in my mind. These must be the enormous fiends¡ª the creatures that Lana and the bandits confused with ogres¡­


    "Mister Ember... Please! Deliver those individuals! Slay the Fiends!" Lana pleaded.


    Would I have ever encountered such raw desperation in my old life, in contemporary American society? The thought unsettled me. It felt as though her cry originated not merely from her, but from every living soul in this world.


    Excuses had no place here.


    "Lana, beckon them our way." I took a breath. "I''ll deal with the fiends."


    "Mister Ember... Thank you! I will," Lana responded before she projected her voice across the distance, calling for Petr and Eryn.


    With my fingers still curled around the reins, I honed my focus.


    "A luminous trail blazes from your pointed digit to a point of your choosing within range, subsequently bursting with a low rumble into a fiery explosion. Every entity within a 20-foot-radius sphere centred on that point must evade or suffer the consequences. A target endures 8d6 fire damage on a failed evasion, or half the damage should they succeed. The fire proliferates around corners, setting ablaze flammable objects in the vicinity that aren¡¯t equipped or in hand."


    In the framework of T&T, when a spell''s outcome involves a degree of unpredictability, it mandates a resolution via dice roll. Here, 8d6 was a shorthand for rolling eight six-sided dice.


    "All right... Here goes!" I muttered, mentally rolling the dice.


    The dice in my mind''s eye settled revealing the numbers: 6, 3, 4, 3, 6, 2, 4... Not too shabby at first sight. Upon confirming the sum, 37, the fireball''s damage was fixed, and the dice transformed into a brilliant stream of energy that rocketed into reality.


    "Fireball!" my physical form declared, finalizing the incantation.


    A vivid, fiery red streak darted forward, emitting a high-pitched whir as it sailed over the group of adventurers below. It homed in on one of the hulking fiends with the precision of a guided missile.


    And then, it detonated.


    A few individuals in the group below unleashed cries of surprise or confusion.


    The Fireball spell is straightforward, its effects evident in its name. It''s the staple spell for mages who reach the necessary level for Tier 2 in T&T. Being such a common spell, I didn''t give it much thought when casting. But witnessing its impact for the first time, the spell''s sheer power and force far exceeded my assumptions.


    The netherhulk at the epicenter of the explosion evaporated. No trace of it survived. All the curselings within the fireball''s twenty-foot radius suffered the same fate, reduced to mere dust and ash.


    If this were solely a game, that would be the limit of the spell''s impact. Any creature or object even a centimeter outside the fireball''s radius would be entirely unaffected.


    Reality, however, proved more chaotic. Due to the scorching heat at the center of the blast (so I assumed), the adjacent air expanded rapidly, resulting in a shockwave potent enough to bend or break nearby trees. This shockwave carried fragments of wood, dirt, and stone, launching them into the fiends like deadly shrapnel. In essence, it functioned similarly to a conventional missile or bomb.


    In the end, that single invocation of Fireball wreaked havoc on at least half of the crimson tide of fiends.


    A mage must reach Level 5 to conjure a Fireball, and at that stage, the spell''s potential damage hovers around 20 points. Even at that early level, a damage score of 20 can obliterate a warrior in a single hit.


    So, this is what a 37-point damage explosion manifests as¡­ I stood awestruck, the gust of hot wind from the lingering shockwave sweeping over Lana and me atop our phantom steed.


    "P-Petr," Lana stuttered, rattled. "Eryn¡­" She emerged from her stupor before I could.


    Her words yanked me back from my dazed state, triggering a surge of panic. Even though the group of people was twenty meters away from the explosion''s epicenter, they were close enough to the blast to be rattled by the shockwave.


    However, my dread seemed misplaced. As soon as the fireball detonated, the group had immediately thrown themselves to the ground. They were smeared with mud, but none appeared to be injured.


    "Hey, you¡­"


    "Are you a weaver? Could you assist us?"


    "Lana?! Is that really you?"


    As they drew closer, I tallied six individuals in all. Their weapons and gear were clear indicators of their adventurer status.


    Yet even as we converged, the shrieks and the teeming shadows of the fiends just a short distance beneath us indicated that the remainder were swiftly converging on our position.


    "Petr! Eryn!"


    "Lana?!" The man halted. "We''ll save the pleasantries for after this."


    Despite the maelstrom, the band of adventurers didn''t hesitate.


    "Shift!" the tall, blonde-haired man called Petr commanded. "We need to create a buffer."


    "Understood!" replied three men in tandem. All bore the unmistakable aura of warrior-class characters.


    "You, can you weave the same spell again?" Petr, now nocking an arrow into his bow, said to me.


    "I-I can conjure Fireball two more times," I responded almost instinctively, my voice barely steady. I had prepared the spell that very morning.


    "Excellent. There''s still a single netherhulk left. When it emerges, I need you to obliterate it, and obliterate as many curselings in the process as you can."


    "O-okay."


    Petr''s voice was gentle but resonated with authority and persuasion. Given his youthful appearance, seemingly in his thirties, his imposing demeanor surprised me. Could such gravitas be borne out of combat experience, I wondered?


    As someone bereft of genuine combat experience, I was grateful for his guidance.


    "Lana, come with me."


    "Vaness!" Lana exclaimed as the woman named Vaness swept her off the Pegasus into her arms.


    This woman named Vaness seemed to be a familiar face to Lana. From what I could tell, it appeared Lana would be safe under her watch.


    "To stumble upon such a potent Weaver in such dire circumstances. Our luck has truly turned."


    "Praise be to our lady, Alissani! The goddess has not abandoned us!"


    The men in the front line seemed buoyed by my presence. On the contrary, the woman donning a cloak, bearing the tell-tale signs of a mage, was scrutinizing me. Could she be mistaking me for Karyon? I wondered.


    "Greeooaaaar!"


    "Strike now!" Petr bellowed.


    "What?!"


    The remaining netherhulk was precariously close to cresting the slope.


    Had I been capable of instantaneously unleashing my spell at Petr''s signal, it would likely have been highly effective. In that respect, Petr''s timing was impeccable. But the casting time of ten seconds was not considered in Petr''s call.


    In the grip of panic, I started conjuring a spell, though not Fireball.


    Petr glanced back at me, a look of confusion etched on his face.


    "What in the blazes are you doing?!" the weaver cried out.


    As I was in the midst of spellcasting, the netherhulk clawed its way onto the mountain path before us, a slew of curselings hot on its heels. Luckily, it was still more than ten meters away, but barely.


    Regardless, my failure to strike as expected caught the group off guard, and they shot me suspicious glances before diverting their focus back to the approaching fiend.


    Petr was the first to respond, letting loose an arrow from his bow.


    "Ignis: Sagitta!" The mage, a beat after Petr, fired her own incendiary missile at the beast.


    "Greeaa!"


    Their arrows found their mark, burying into the netherhulk''s face. It roared in agony, yet it wasn''t enough to fell the creature. Unseeing, it swung its club wildly as it barreled towards us.


    "Lightning Bolt!" The words burst from me as my spell took form. The Fireball''s scope of impact was simply too broad; casting it at that moment would''ve ensnared us in its fiery tendrils. Thus, I chose to channel a spell that drew a straight line of devastation rather than a sphere. At my gesture, a hundred-foot bolt of lightning exploded forward, no wider than five feet. The lightning, brilliant and blinding, rent the fiends that surged up the path.


    "Gugyaah?!"


    The sound of thunder ripped through the air as the superheated air detonated, sending a shockwave that buffeted our group. Several men let out yelps of surprise, and a high-pitched scream pierced through, likely Lana.


    Caught off guard, the mage was yanked back by the force of the blast, her cloak billowing. As she stumbled, I reached out and steadied her.


    Seeing her regain her footing, I exhaled a sigh of relief, then took in the aftermath. The upper half of the netherhulk was simply gone, the remaining half, ash-covered and broken, collapsed to the ground. The curselings had met an even more gruesome fate. A grisly collage of torn red bodies littered the path.


    My ears still hummed from the thunder''s roar, and the acrid stench of scorched flesh pervaded the air. My stomach held steady, the only reason being the sheer surrealness of the scene before me. My mind reeled, struggling to accept what my eyes were seeing.


    "Unhand me," the weaver commanded, turning towards me with a stern expression.


    "Ah... apologies." A sudden clarity washed over me, and I let go of her swiftly.


    Thus ended my first true battle¡ªa victory under my name, Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros.

 Chapter 5: After

    After we had dispatched the final fiend, our group pressed forward on our journey. Eryn and a few others bombarded Lana and me with questions, trying to unravel the mystery of our presence. Petr quickly intervened, reminding everyone of the paramount importance of our immediate survival over satisfying curiosity. We all agreed, and without further ado, continued on our path. Lana and I followed the adventurers, she astride a spectral steed.


    Petr, surveying our surroundings, finally spoke, ¡°This seems like a good place to stop for now.¡± We halted our march midway along a mountainous trail, just shy of a taut suspension bridge spanning a gaping chasm. Petr''s judgment seemed strategic; the bridge would act as a natural choke point, giving us an advantage if we needed to escape quickly or mount a defense.


    "I am Petr, of the adventuring kin from Vindaris. We were summoned to rescue the maiden from ruthless marauders," he declared.


    Lana could not hide her triumphant cry, ¡°I knew it!¡±


    Petr took it upon himself to enlighten me about his troupe¡¯s circumstances, with the precision of a scholar. Judging by his bow, quiver, and gear, I deduced his role was that of a ranger. His composure and intelligence reminded me of seasoned academicians.


    Petr¡¯s words corroborated my speculations, and Lana seemed on the brink of tears, pure relief washing over her.


    As he was about to continue, I interrupted him. ¡°Hold on¡­ Just give me a moment, please!¡±


    Consistent with my initial appraisal, Petr emerged as the most inquisitive of the lot. He had held back his curiosity before, but now it was palpable that he was poised to flood me with questions.


    "What do you wish to say?" Petr inquired.


    "My situation is a bit complicated. So before you ask your questions, might I request a moment to explain my circumstances? My name is Emberus Blazeus Xandros, and I am a wielder of arcane arts¡ªa Mage."


    "A... Mage?"


    Barely had I completed my introduction before I was met with a wave of skepticism from the adventurers. Eryn¡¯s scrutinizing gaze was particularly piercing. She was a radiant beauty, blond and blue-eyed, with an aura of immense passion. But I chose to disregard their suspicious glances and proceeded with my explanation.


    I told them of my origins in a far-off land and of an unfortunate magical mishap that had catapulted me into the neighboring mountains. I outlined my tale succinctly: my capture by brigands, my struggle against them, my rescue of Lana, and my current mission to deliver her to her presumed father in Maridal.


    "If you aim to spin tales, you might wish to practice more," Eryn retorted, her expression tinged with disdain. "Your narrative lacks credibility."


    Lana whispered to me in explanation, "Miss Eryn is of noble lineage. It would be prudent not to incite her ire."


    Indeed, in my former role as a seasoned employee at a large corporation, I had had my share of encounters with strong-willed women. Regardless of her striking beauty, I reassured myself that I should be able to maintain my composure under her words. At least, that was the pep talk I gave myself. If I were genuinely self-assured, I might not have needed such internal discourse in the first place.


    "In all sincerity," Petr began, "I must entertain the possibility that you are the black weaver leading the bandits, and that you absconded with Lana upon the sight of the impending daemon horde."


    While Petr''s suspicion was evident, he did not exude the same level of animosity as Eryn.


    "I comprehend the implausibility of my tale," I admitted, "yet Lana can attest to my truthfulness¡­¡±


    "He speaks the truth!" Lana chimed in.


    "As for the bandits'' weaver," I pressed on, "his remains are right there."


    The adventurers fell into a stunned silence as I indicated Karyon''s statue, which was being hauled by the sprite porter, seemingly oblivious to the rest of its surroundings.


    "I had been meaning to question that¡­"


    "I can discern a statue and a bag¡­but how do they hover in mid-air?"


    The first to voice their bewilderment were the two warriors, David and Greg. They were wholly engrossed by the levitating objects. On the other hand, the red-haired woman, Vaness, appeared least bothered by the sight, preferring instead to maintain vigilance over our environment.


    "Nevertheless, your intervention saved us and ensured our victory over the fiends," Petr resumed. "For that, I am deeply grateful." He dipped his head in a gesture of respect toward me.


    "I appreciate it! It was only my duty."


    "In truth, we owe you a debt for our lives."


    Both Greg and David echoed Petr''s sentiments with their own words of gratitude.


    "I suppose I must acknowledge, your intervention was beneficial," Eryn added, with a hint of reluctance.


    While the extent of Petr and the others'' faith in my account remained uncertain, I had, at the very least, seemingly won a modicum of their trust.


    "Well, you see... Lana asked me to, so..." I attempted to justify.


    "Mister Ember is extraordinary! He commands magic!" Lana interjected yet again.


    In my former profession in sales within the States, one often encountered excessive deference. My own experience mirrored this. However, never before had I been lauded for preserving lives. I found myself flustered! At a loss for words, I was grateful when Lana stepped in. Regrettably, her words seemed to grate on Eryn.


    "Weavers bereft of mana are impossibilities!" Eryn declared, her voice rising as though she could no longer contain her vexation.


    Devoid of mana, I pondered. Karyon had asserted something quite similar. What implications did that bear?


    "In relation to that, I have some inquiries. Are the Weavers of Dravus capable of perceiving mana?"


    To be clear, if I employed the appropriate incantation, I should have been capable of detecting mana as well. However, according to the rules of T&T, mana was not a prerequisite for spellcasting.


    "Certainly we can!" Eryn retorted, her tone sharp.


    "But isn''t it weaving that''s causing the statue and bag to levitate?" questioned the cleric, Philip. Despite his formidable armor, shield, and mace, the young man exuded an air of casual tranquility.


    "Well..." Eryn began, but was swiftly cut off.


    "Wait," Vaness interjected in a hushed tone. "More fiends approach."


    "There''s a horde of them!"


    "Curselings, netherhulks, and even a Dreadbeast..."


    We had positioned ourselves in a locale not far from the path, where fewer trees granted a broader perspective.


    The vista on such a crisp day was invigorating, spanning all the way to the horizon, with the rolling foothills in sight and a road bisecting the landscape east and west into the distant reaches.


    The predicament, however, was that the valley several tens of meters beneath was teeming with an onslaught of marching fiends. Concealed behind rocks and foliage, we gazed upon the marching horde below. Fortuitously¡ªif there was any fortune to be found in our dire straits¡ªit didn''t appear the fiends sought us out.


    The most ubiquitous among the fiends were curselings, and for every score of them, there was a netherhulk. Furthermore, a third kind stood out the most: a Dreadbeast, a colossal fiend swaying to and fro, its size comparable to an elephant. Its squat, sturdy legs, corpulent body, and lengthy arms, coupled with a snout and tusks reminiscent of a boar, bore a striking similarity to the trolls of T&T lore.


    As far as my gaze could reach, there was only one Dreadbeast. However, its sheer size was such that it almost dominated the valley below, brandishing a club assembled from several logs bound together. One was certainly more than adequate.


    The valley was blanketed in forest, obscuring a clear view of the entire horde, but it seemed probable that their numbers reached into the hundreds.


    "But truly, these creatures make goblins, ogres, and trolls seem endearing in comparison..." I peered through my Monoscopic Lens, a magical artifact that, as its name implied, functioned akin to a telescope. Merely observing them had already induced a sheen of anxious perspiration.


    These were fiends, not T&T creatures. While they could be encapsulated within the terms of such monsters, they were fundamentally distinct. They were devoid of the sensation of being mere common, low-intelligence fodder created solely for the slaughter by adventurers.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The fiends were a visceral crimson, as if they had bathed in sanguine gore, their features indistinguishable except for those glowing, wrath-infused, golden eyes. As I observed them through my Monoscopic Lens, I could feel their simmering loathing for humanity, their insatiable yearning to kill. It was as if I finally grasped why Lana and the bandits recoiled in terror at my ogres. These beasts were far more akin to demons than living beings.


    Yet, it was clearly an army, not a mere swarm this time. There was a hierarchy within their ranks. They marched in formation. As long as they aren''t provoked by the sight of a human, it seems they are capable of coordination, I mused, scrutinizing a netherhulk borne by curselings on a pallet at the epicenter of the march, whom I surmised to be their commander.


    "If they proceed through the valley, they''ll eventually emerge from the forest," David murmured. "Are they preparing to besiege Maridal?"


    Lana appeared petrified.


    "If we expedite our journey, we might reach Maridal before them," Petr proposed. "At the very least, we can alert them."


    "But even if we arrive in time to sound the warning, there won''t be sufficient time to evacuate," Philip countered. "Wouldn''t it be more prudent to head to the Adamant Fortress to call for reinforcements?"


    Even if we manage to accomplish either of those feats, who could prevail against such an army? I pondered, listening to Petr and David''s deliberations.


    "Once we emerge from the forest''s cover, we ought to split into two parties. Regardless of our plan, haste is paramount."


    "Er... Umm..." Should I remain here, rooted in inaction? I wondered.


    In the past couple of days, I had encountered some semblance of battle, but I had never truly strategized. I had been simply acting on instinct. This time, however, a clear choice was before me. I had to decide whether I would enter the fray.


    It wasn''t a matter of my ability to make a difference. The query was more akin to, "Is it morally right for me to intervene?" I held firm confidence in my ability to obliterate the entire army single-handedly, but it felt akin to cheating, and that wasn''t the sole issue. I was yet to discern the reason the Almighty had transported me to Dravus. If I eradicated the fiend army, there was a possibility that my actions could trigger a larger catastrophe.


    Was I poised on the brink of discharging some metaphorical firearm? What if, in Dravus, it was the fiends, not humans, who were the rightful inheritors of the land? This was a common trope in fantasy narratives.


    Even if none of the aforementioned were issues, it was highly probable that conducting such a monumental act would irrevocably alter my standing in Dravus. Even if the outcome was me being lauded as a hero, that was far from my desire, and my potential shift in status was just as likely to be detrimental as beneficial. I could be charged with executing a forbidden art or branded a heretic. All these were plausible scenarios.


    Was this army genuinely poised to assault Maridal? There was no evidence. Shouldn''t our first course of action be attempting to reason with the fiends rather than obliterating them? (I confess, by the end of my mental discourse, I was delving into the realm of the ridiculous.)


    I was apprehensive of the uncertainty the future might hold. This is not a game. I am not Emberus Blazeus Xandros. Emberus Blazeus Xandros might be an Archmage who has thwarted global calamities multiple times, but I am an ordinary forty-year-old human, accustomed to a tranquil nation where conflicts are resolved through dialogue, not warfare.


    A person such as myself needed a potent rationale to intervene.


    "Um... What are the expected casualties?" I ventured to ask.


    "Pardon?"


    "If these fiends assault the village, what extent of damage or casualties do you anticipate?"


    "Do you not see the sheer multitude down there?!" Greg''s anger was palpable. "There''s even a Dreadbeast! If they reach the village, it will be a massacre!"


    "No..." Lana glanced from one adventurer to the next, silently pleading for someone to counter Greg''s grim prediction, but they all evaded her gaze.


    "Master Ember... My father is in Maridal..." Lana''s voice was laced with anxiety as she tugged at my sleeve.


    Just earlier today, I reflected, and I fought solely because Lana requested it. But this time, I must claim this decision as my own and shoulder the responsibility, irrespective of any future regrets.


    "Don''t worry," I assured her hastily. "I will take action." I didn''t want to wait for her to beseech me to save her father. I didn''t want to provide myself the chance to use her plea as a justification. This time, I was taking a stand of my own accord.


    "You''ll take action? What do you propose?" Petr queried.


    "Given the potent spells you''ve cast, isn''t your mana depleted?" Eryn asked, skepticism apparent in her tone.


    Both Petr and Eryn regarded me with a measure of distrust, but as I mentally prepared myself for the impending task, I lacked the mental bandwidth to respond to them.


    "Alright, it''s time," I announced, giving my face a resolute smack with both hands. My focus turned to the invisible magical shield encasing me. This shield was the product of a spell I''d cast while Lana and I were making our exit from the bandit''s lair: Fly.


    Supported by this magical shield, my body began to levitate.


    "What?! He... He''s ascending?! He''s actually flying!" The adventurers'' exclaims echoed from below.


    A sense of unease threatened to creep in, a vivid recollection of the gut-wrenching nausea from my pegasus ride, but I promptly pushed it aside. This was no time for succumbing to the maladies of the air.


    A shiver ran down my spine as I peered downwards. This was my first instance of unsupported flight, a far more terrifying experience than riding the pegasus. The magical shield seemed to be mitigating the effects of wind and air pressure, yet the lack of solid ground beneath my feet was an undeniable psychological challenge.


    "This is going to be perilous, so I advise you all to leave this vicinity and seek shelter. I''ll handle the fiends," I declared.


    "Hey! What are you... Hold on!"


    "Master Ember!"


    With a dose of apprehension, I pursued the fiend army. The Fly spell permitted a maximum speed of thirty miles per hour, which brought me to the forefront of the march within a matter of minutes.


    "In the wake of this incantation, a nonmagical barricade of solid stone materializes at a location of my choosing within range. The wall is half a foot in thickness and is composed of ten panels, each spanning 15 feet by 15 feet. Each panel must connect with at least one other panel. Alternatively, I can create panels of 15 feet by 30 feet that are merely 3 inches thick... Wall of Stone."


    "Gree?!"


    "Gyaiie?!"


    The incantation triggered the rise of an immense stone barrier from the valley floor. Choosing the narrowest part of the valley, the wall effectively thwarted the forward march of the fiends.


    I then descended, alighting atop the wall.


    Before setting out to obliterate them, I felt an urge to scrutinize these dread beings up close. Yes, I could execute the spells from a safe, unseen distance, but I grappled with the notion of annihilating such a multitude of living entities without any interaction. As improbable as it seemed, there remained a sliver of a chance for mutual comprehension.


    From the fiends'' standpoint, a colossal stone barricade had materialized out of thin air. Their initial reactions were understandably those of shock and bewilderment. However, the sight of a human figure atop the wall swiftly refocused their attention... and their rage. The valley resounded with the cacophony of their ear-splitting roars.


    "Kshaaaa!"


    "Gya, gya-ga!"


    "Gruooo! Gu-gaa!"


    The curselings and netherhulks frothed at the mouth, gnashing their teeth in fury. Their murky, golden eyes blazed with a hatred that was directed solely at me.


    "Yeah... I don''t foresee fruitful negotiations."


    The truth had been a long time in the acceptance, but I finally came to terms with the reality that these fiends were mankind''s sworn adversaries. Reconciliation was a lost cause.


    "Gyah! Gyaah!"


    From deeper within their ranks, a storm of arrows, loosed by curseling archers under the commanding netherhulk''s order, hurtled towards me. Their madness didn''t prevent them from acting as a strategic force - and that fact made them all the more terrifying. However, before any of the thick, ebony arrows could reach me, they were sent spiraling off-course. My gratitude went out to the second preventative spell I had cast earlier: Protection from Arrows.


    "Scraa!"


    "Hrggh!"


    Once the netherhulk realized that his hurlings were ineffectual, he made a broad sweep of his limb, commanding an instantaneous charge from the grotesque mob dwelling in the hollow. They propelled themselves, scrambling over their comrades with cold iron and chipped axes brandished, each eager to be the first to land a strike. Their assault was frantic; the barrier they were charging would not withstand a minute of this onslaught ¡ª yet, of course, I was not inclined to stand by and watch.


    "Gyarr?!"


    With a powerful leap, I took my leave from the sturdy ramparts, returning to my aerial vantage. They launched another volley of arrows and axes in my direction, their efforts, however, proved futile.


    "In a strange way...this is somewhat liberating," I murmured to myself.


    Being the object of such intense enmity wasn''t exactly comfortable. My throat was dry as a desert, and a sheen of cold sweat clung to me. Nevertheless, now, I bore no internal conflict about the course of action I was to take.


    Once I reached the apex of my ascent, high enough to gaze upon the full scope of the blight below, I steadied myself in the sky. My resolve was set: to obliterate the monstrous multitude filling that valley ¡ª swiftly and without mercy. Not a soul would have the chance to flee.


    So then, the question remained: which spell was best suited for this endeavor?


    Within the realm of T&T, an array of destructive spells is available. From the humble beginnings of a Firebolt cantrip, the portfolio expands to include more potent spells, such as the Arcane Bullet of the first rank, the third rank''s Fireball and Lightning Bolt, a fourth rank Blizzard, and at the peak, the ninth rank Meteor Shower. Naturally, one spell towers above the rest in its sheer destructive potential.


    "With this incantation, scorching spheres of inferno hurtle towards four distinct locations within my sight. These globes of flame navigate deftly around corners, each dealing a savage combination of 20d6 fire and 20d6 bludgeoning damage. Any creature unlucky enough to find itself in the vicinity of multiple fiery impacts is still affected only once."


    In my mind''s eye, I rattled an inordinate number of six-sided dice, setting the magnitude of the upcoming devastation. As the numbers settled, an eruption of volatile energy far exceeding that of the previously unleashed Fireball surged forth into existence.


    "Meteor Shower!"


    Four brilliant streaks cleaved the azure sky, their deadly descent targeting the grotesque valley teeming with abominations. Upon contact, the direct targets of these celestial missiles were flung asunder, their forms torn like fragments of a punctured balloon. The ensuing detonations occupied every inch of the valley. They reduced flesh to charred remnants. With no path for escape except upwards, shockwaves carried morsels of charred flesh and shattered bone into the air.


    Even after the primary onslaught, long after any sign of life had been extinguished, aftershocks of energy persisted, shaking the valley to its core; the earth itself heaved as if a mighty tidal wave had rolled through the landscape.


    "Wha-what?! Incredible!"


    First, the concussive force of the explosion slammed into me, swiftly followed by the thunderous roar that seemed to reverberate through my very being. Despite my safety within the protective envelope conjured by Fly, and the distance I had put between myself and the blast''s epicenter, I felt as inconsequential as a leaf caught in a tempest. If the fiends had screamed in their final moments, their cries were swallowed by the overwhelming cacophony of the blast.


    "By God...!"


    The spectacle brought to mind an old image I once glimpsed in a broadcast, the detonation of a nuclear weapon.


    I raised both hands, shielding my face as I squinted towards the valley, attempting to discern the aftermath through the swirling veil of smoke, fire, and dislodged earth. The details were elusive, but one fact was unequivocally clear: none of the monstrous horde, whether curseling, netherhulk, or dreadbeast, remained in any shape that was identifiable beyond formless masses of charred meat and ash. The very landscape had been rewritten.


    I had wielded Meteor Shower in the simulated environment of a game, obliterating castles and clusters of adversaries, but until witnessing its effects firsthand, I had never truly grasped its devastating magnitude.


    Floating there, I was besieged by tremors. The potency of my abilities as a Level 20 Archmage in the realm of Dravus seemed terrifyingly akin to possessing the control over nuclear weaponry.

 Chapter 6

    Soon after the calamity, I found myself once more entwining my path with Petr¡¯s cohort and the ever-endearing Lana. The echoing bane of the monstrous horde had been silenced, our chapter of nightmares finally closed.


    The devastating burst had echoed all the way to our sanctuary, where the cluster had sought refuge. Petr and Vaness were perfectly positioned to witness the grandiose scene of annihilation, and so, the recount of my victorious skirmish against the fiendish battalion through the invocation of a celestial rain was unanimously accepted.


    ¡°None of us can dispute your formidable prowess as a weaver now¡ªor should we say, ''Archmage'', Master Xandros¡­or perhaps ¡®Lord¡¯ would be more appropriate?¡± Petr¡¯s voice broke the silence as we gathered around the campfire. Lana handed me a comforting cup of sil tea, her presence soothing amidst the chaos. Petr''s tone was even, but his expression was rigid. Around the circle, I noticed the apprehensive looks on Greg and David¡¯s faces, the anxiety clouding Philip and Vaness, and Eryn''s vigilant wariness. Lana, however, regarded me with a concern that felt personal.


    ¡°No, there''s no need for formalities. I''m not a scion of nobility. I''m not a man of importance¡ªmerely your average denizen. I¡¯d rather you see me as ordinary, not extraordinary.¡±


    In the comfort of my old life, even the formal salutations of itinerant merchants unsettled me. I had no desire for such a lofty title, yet a creeping realization began to permeate my mind. After performing such a monumental feat, there was no chance of blending back into the ordinary populace.


    ¡°But Lord Xandros! How can I withhold the deserved reverence for you, the savior who obliterated all those monstrosities?!¡± David¡¯s voice rose first, followed by Greg¡¯s.


    "Lord Xandros, you''re a beacon of valor!" Greg added, though it was more fear than respect shaping their reactions¡ªa response I could hardly blame them for, given our recent encounters.


    "I want to affirm my gratitude," Petr interjected, taking the reins of the conversation again. "Had that unholy legion of fiends besieged an unsuspecting hamlet, the outcome would have been a bloodbath. But therein lies my unease. Should you, a man capable of obliterating such a formidable force single-handedly, decide to summon a celestial bombardment upon us, our predicament would escalate considerably. I trust you comprehend the gravity of this."


    I drew in a deep breath. Yes, I understood their concerns all too well. Struggling to put them at ease, I clarified my position once more.


    "As I''ve conveyed before, I am Emberus Blazeus Xandros, an Archmage from a distant land. My knowledge about Dravus and its customs is limited. Yet, I vow to you¡ªI bear no intention of employing my magic for malevolent purposes or to harm you or this realm."


    Murmurs of approval, uncertainty, and trust met my statement. Vaness, Greg, and David seemed to relax a little.


    "A vow? On whose authority? Is there a deity to whom you offer your faith?" Philip asked, his tone holding the tenacity of a warrior-priest.


    I pondered for a moment. "Our deities might not align, but...I make this pledge in the name of the Lord God."


    "That''s...thought-provoking," Petr murmured, intrigued. Clearly, my response had piqued his interest.


    In my world, the Abrahamic God seemed the most appropriate choice. After all, it was his will that transported me to Dravus, perhaps with the purpose of combating the Fiends.


    Philip folded his arms, his expression pensive. "An unfamiliar name, indeed...but it stands to reason that your deity champions the righteous cause, considering you harness your powers to vanquish fiends," he conceded with a smile.


    "Master Emberus might be remarkable, but he also possesses great kindness...a profound kindness!" Lana chimed in, her timing perfect as always.


    The irony wasn''t lost on me; here I was, relying heavily on the endorsement of a girl I had only met the day before.


    "Surely, it would be unjust to withhold our trust from a hero who just liberated an entire village," remarked Petr, his face adorned with a peculiar blend of a smirk and a smile.


    Despite his benevolent intent, I wished he would refrain from labeling me a "hero." I was not ready to don that mantle yet.


    "Possibly, this ''Lord God'' destined you to venture here. I¡¯ll be relying on you," said Petr, giving my shoulder a comforting pat. Between the two of us, I was more inclined to place my faith in him than in myself.


    Resuming our journey after the respite, we followed the winding path to the primary thoroughfare, heading toward Maridal Village in the east. Petr and Vaness remained vigilant against potential fiend attacks, but thankfully, our journey remained undisturbed.


    The main road extended from east to west across a vast expanse of open terrain, graced by stone pavement. Its well-kept structure hinted at the advanced civilization in Dravus. We planned to spend the night encamped along this route, ensuring our arrival in Maridal by dawn.


    As I glanced over my shoulder towards the south, tracing the path we had trodden, my gaze wandered up towards the forest-clad mountain. I then turned to Petr.


    "As I''ve mentioned earlier, my knowledge about this place is practically nonexistent. Could you provide some insights about Dravus? A simplified version would suffice."


    Before we reached the bustling village, where encounters with inhabitants were inevitable, I yearned for a foundational understanding of Dravus. Not to mention, considering the time I would be spending here, gaining a basic grasp of my surroundings was necessary. My interest gravitated particularly towards information related to fiends and magic, but starting with the rudimentary aspects was logical.


    "That''s a broad query. What exactly do you wish to know, Lord Xandros?"


    So the title of "Lord" had found its place, I mused. However, I appreciated Petr''s straightforwardness, a refreshing contrast from David and Greg''s veiled apprehension.


    "Well, I suppose...it would be valuable to gain insight into the nations of Dravus and their historical context."


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    "History, indeed?" Petr responded, a grin lighting up his face. "That''s a vast subject. However, once we establish our camp, I could delve into some of the most significant epochs..."


    "Truly, a concise summary would be more beneficial at this point. Let''s stick to the basics."


    "Well...I suppose that''s acceptable."


    Despite his palpable enthusiasm, Petr''s explanations were remarkably digestible. His scholarly inclination was evident.


    Firstly, I was introduced to our present locale: Lumeos. It was strategically nestled at the core of the Dravus continent, encircling Lake Lumeos, the region''s centerpiece. A coalition of city-states, known as the Lumeos Concord, was established around this expansive body of water. Their confederate nature conferred substantial political clout.


    Further east along the path lay Maridal Village, a constituent state of the Lumeos Concord, governed by the Order of the Adamant Knights.


    In the opposite direction, the path led to Vindaris, a fortified city nestled on the banks of Lake Lumeos. Both Lana and the team of adventurers regarded Vindaris as their homeland. It held the distinction of being the second most affluent member state within the Lumeos Concord.


    Beyond Maridal, to the east, a perilous wasteland stretched out. Yet, on its farthest edges, a thriving foreign nation flourished, drawing many daring merchants and adventurers.


    To the north of Lumeos Lake''s northern shoreline lay the Kingdom of Trenevar, the largest entity on the continent. To the south, another significant foreign power stood, albeit embroiled in a civil war.


    "That''s truly fascinating."


    My thoughts wandered back to numerous instances when I embarked on a fresh tabletop campaign, with the game master explaining the world. The world of Dravus bore striking resemblances to those campaign settings inspired by medieval Europe.


    "Now... Could you explain more about ''fiends''? What exactly are they?"


    "That''s...a complex question." Petr¡¯s enthusiasm seemed to dwindle when discussing these creatures. Nonetheless, he offered a comprehensive overview.


    Firstly, Petr explained that "fiend" was a blanket term encompassing a myriad of creatures such as the curseling, netherhulk, and dreadbeast we had previously encountered, and more. These creatures tended to band together, sharing two principal attributes: a prodigious rate of reproduction and an unrestrained destructive urge towards all sentient life. The general consensus across most territories and nations in Dravus was that fiends posed a fundamental threat to humanity, and their eradication superseded all disputes between nations.


    Curiously, no known origin or habitat had been ascribed to fiends. The narrative invariably played out similarly: Initially, fiends would spontaneously materialize. Subsequently, they would establish a nest and proliferate at a startling pace. Once a nest was erected, it would incessantly spawn new fiends until it was obliterated. Therefore, the destruction of any discovered nest was paramount. Depending on the nation, the obligation to eliminate a nest rested either on the nobility or the knights.


    "There was indeed a period when fiends nearly eradicated all of mankind," Petr murmured pensively.


    When an exceptionally large congregation of fiends was amassed, it was labeled a legion, and any time a colossal nest capable of spawning multiple legions came into existence, it was designated a brood event.


    Fortunately, the total number of fiends inhabiting Dravus was presently lower than historical counts. The last incidence of a fiend explosion substantial enough to form a legion transpired a decade prior. Since then, Petr conveyed, his team and other bands of adventurers encountered only a handful of fiends at a time¡ªuntil today''s events, that is.


    "And what about today''s occurrence?" I queried. "Does the number of fiends we faced constitute a legion?"


    "Likely... A Dreadbeast was present, and the numbers were far too great to be a stray contingent," Petr affirmed, his brows furrowing with concern.


    "Given that... Do you think there might be a nest nearby?" I hesitated. "That would be a problem, wouldn''t it?"


    "Indeed. If left unchecked, another legion could potentially rise and attack the neighboring villages."


    I sighed deeply.


    While the prospect of flaunting my magical prowess and engaging in another battle didn''t exactly excite me, I also recognized that I couldn''t ignore the looming threat, particularly after our confrontation earlier in the day. When Petr intimated that he was banking on my support, this must have been his underlying intention. If the fiends'' nest was nearby, someone would have to take action¡ªand it seemed that ''someone'' was, by default, me.


    Petr was knowledgeable about the geography and historical landscape of Dravus, yet seldom found opportunities to share his wisdom. After I sought clarification on various subjects, he expressed how gratified he was to engage in such discourse.


    Our conversation spanned several hours as we traversed the path, and before long, dusk descended upon us. We had covered substantial ground, yet it seemed we would not reach Maridal until the following afternoon.


    Identifying a suitable location for our encampment, Petr rapidly issued instructions to the remaining members of our party. In a tabletop role-playing game, establishing a camp required little more than a few simple phrases, but the actual task proved laborious. However, when I attempted to lend a hand, David and Greg swiftly intervened. "Lord Xandros, we cannot possibly impose such tasks upon you!" Even Petr advised me to relax, considering my status as a guest.


    Lana and Vaness set about preparing a fragrant stew of meat and beans, seasoned with spices. The tantalizing aroma quickly set my stomach rumbling in anticipation.


    Time hung heavily in the air, so I attempted to engage Eryn in conversation, seeking to comprehend the distinctions between my magical aptitude and the weaving arts of Dravus.


    "Such matters aren''t appropriate for discussion in this setting," Eryn responded, her attention unwaveringly focused on combing her cascading locks.


    Engaging in discourse with a younger woman often left me drained, especially when the subject pertained to our professions.


    "Well, in light of that... um..."


    Before I could finish, Eryn fixed me with an intense stare. "Upon our arrival in the village, could I request some of your time? I wish to converse with you privately."


    "Lord Xandros seems to be quite in demand," Greg chortled, though I harbored no illusions that the impending dialogue would proceed smoothly.


    "Your words may very well astound the Weavers¡¯ Guild."


    Exactly.


    Just two nights past, I was in the comfort of my own bed. The previous night, I found myself in the eerie tower of a malevolent Weaver. Now, I was destined to spend the night under a canvas roof in an adventurers'' camp...


    Being a guest, I didn''t have the responsibility of night watch, so I retired early in my borrowed tent, aiming to get as much rest as possible.


    "Morning."


    "Apologies! Could I request an additional five minutes, please?!"


    "Well, we aren¡¯t in any particular hurry," Petr responded amicably.


    With the advent of sunrise, the troupe of adventurers stirred from their slumber. A brisk meal was consumed, and the remnants of our encampment were tidied away. By the time they concluded their tasks, I was still deeply engrossed in the arcane pages of my spellbook.


    In the world of Tombs and Titans, a mage must prepare their spells each dawn if they seek to utilize those spells for the day.


    The substantial amount of magic I had expended the prior day necessitated a thorough study of my spellbook to replenish my reserves. Alas, time was a luxury I couldn''t afford, and I had to settle for readying only the most essential spells.


    "At last, I''m finished! Sprite Porter!"


    Driven by urgency, I immediately initiated the casting of the spell once I''d prepared my spells.


    "They''re levitating..."


    "Indeed, once more they defy gravity, don''t they?"


    The objects entrusted to the sprite porter were identical to the previous day: Lana''s weighty bag and Karyon''s petrified form. The spell cast the day before had exhausted its efficacy, hence my haste to recast it. David or Greg might have accommodated my request to shoulder the burden, but the heft of the objects was considerable. A work of fiction might have chosen to elide such inconveniences, but reality seldom extends such courtesy.


    "I can''t discern any mana being harnessed... It seems incontrovertible that your magical technique differs fundamentally from our weaving." Eryn muttered under her breath, but the volume was loud enough for me to hear.


    Aware that any comment on my part would only invite future complications, I opted to maintain my silence. After all, the deity had echoed similar sentiments... Her inference was likely accurate.

 Chapter 7: Arrival at Maridal Village

    The concluding leg of our journey to Maridal Village unfolded without incident, the warmth of early summer pervading the air while a refreshing coolness caressed our skin, creating an ideal atmosphere for our passage across the expansive plain. With each passing hour, distant specks on the horizon gradually coalesced into the distinct contours of a village nestled amidst the verdant fields. And to the north of this settlement, a vast white edifice loomed, a sentinel demanding attention.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, behold Maridal Village!" Lana''s voice rang with eager anticipation. "And see there, that grand structure is none other than Adamant Fortress, the sacred home of the Knightly Order of Adamant."


    "It appears we shall have the pleasure of breaking our fast at the inn," Petr chimed in with a knowing grin. "Ah, how I''ve always savored the comforts of the Lordly Spoon."


    My companions had grown accustomed to my perpetual state of ignorance, often preempting my inquiries with explanations. Still, the name "Lordly Spoon" struck me as oddly whimsical for an inn. Such an unconventional choice for a name, I mused quietly.


    Maridal Village surpassed my initial expectations in size and organization. Most of the buildings clustered along the main thoroughfare, protected by a wooden palisade encircling the perimeter. A scattering of watchtowers adorned strategic points along the walls, standing as silent guardians against potential threats.


    Curiously, though, the village gate stood wide open, with a scant presence of guards. Aware that a floating statue and Lana''s enigmatic bag would surely draw unwanted attention, we decided to conceal Karyon''s statue and Lana''s bag amidst a cluster of bushes outside the village.


    As we crossed the gate, a watchman called out to us, his voice carrying across the distance. "Petr! Is that Miss Lana I see in your company? Did you manage to free her from those bandits?"


    "Nay, it was this very Archmage who came to Lana''s rescue!" Petr declared proudly.


    "Aye, it''s true!" Lana affirmed, gratitude gleaming in her eyes.


    "But wai¡ª"


    "An Archmage, you say? Well, regardless, that''s quite the feat! We owe you our thanks," the watchman exclaimed, his tone filled with appreciation.


    "Um...uh...you''re welcome..." I stammered, caught off guard by their unreserved acknowledgment. I couldn''t help but feel perplexed; shouldn''t they be more cautious about an individual of dubious reputation like me?


    "Leo should still be at the Lordly Spoon Inn," Petr announced, resuming his stride with purpose.


    The main thoroughfare of the village lay before us, its cobblestone path resembling the one that had led us here. Horse-drawn carts and figures resembling traveling merchants bustled along the street. However, a select few merchants drew my attention. These stout individuals, bearing long beards and standing no taller than my chest, were unmistakably dwarves. Engaged in animated conversations and trading, they seamlessly blended into the town''s tapestry.


    "Petr," I inquired, intrigued, "why do these dwarves play such a significant role in the village''s affairs?"


    "Well, this village serves as the easternmost bastion of the Lumeos Concord, forming a crucial trade nexus between our people and the dwarves," Petr explained.


    "Yes, my father has established numerous trade agreements with these dwarven folk," Lana added with familial pride.


    "I understand, but I would prefer if you didn''t draw too much attention to my humble self," I murmured, addressing Petr.


    I had stumbled upon Lana through a twist of fate, and my intervention had been solely due to my magic. Truth be told, I hadn''t gone through any arduous trials to protect her. A peculiar sense of undeservingness welled up within me, mingling with a subtle but undeniable embarrassment.


    "I apologize for the unwanted attention," Petr said sincerely. "However..."


    "Fear not, for it won''t be long before the astonishing feats of the illustrious Lord Xandros become the talk of the realm!" Greg interjected with enthusiasm.


    "You may say that," I interjected with reluctance, "but I¡ª"


    "Enough of your protests!" Lana snapped, her patience wearing thin. "Come closer and listen!"


    Bewildered, I allowed Eryn to guide me into the shadow of a nearby building. She drew close, her face inches from mine, and spoke in a hushed but forceful tone.


    "Stop with this timidity! Your ''Arcane'' powers, or whatever you call your magic, possess undeniable potency. Act like it, I implore you! Your current demeanor only fuels further unease. Understand the gravity of my words."


    "She''s right! You''re extraordinary, Mister Ember! Embrace your greatness!" Lana added, somehow squeezing herself between Eryn and me, her words filled with fervor. David and Greg watched anxiously, hesitating to intercede in Eryn''s passionate lecture.


    "Please, release him," Philip interjected calmly, coming to my aid as he gently separated Eryn and Lana from me. Their energies clashed in the air, and his intervention couldn''t have come at a better time.


    Philip, the embodiment of a serene warrior-priest, excelled at diffusing conflicts, I thought, sighing in relief. But it seemed his work was not yet done.


    "Lord Xandros, you may claim insignificance, but such a proclamation carries no weight in our realm. As Eryn rightly mentioned, a hero who fails to embody heroism instills apprehension in those around him. Furthermore, and though I hesitate to say it, if you are perceived as weak, there may be those who seek to exploit you."


    Philip''s words carried the weight of his priestly sincerity, resonating with profound significance.


    "In essence, you suggest that a grand and mighty hero instills a sense of ease, whereas an individual of extraordinary power, yet meek and unassuming, evokes the opposite reaction?" I pondered.


    "Exactly," they all agreed.


    Curse it all. They had a point.


    Before long, we reached the Lordly Spoon Inn. Dimly lit, the spacious hall beyond the entrance combined elements of a bar and a mess hall, with round tables occupied by various individuals of different sizes and shapes. Behind the counter, a bustling woman stood, unmistakably the inn''s proprietor.


    "Father!" Lana exclaimed, her voice filled with affection.


    "Lana?!"


    Startled, Lana, who had been by my side, dashed toward a man in the hall.


    "Father! Father!!!"


    "Lana! Oh, how relieved I am to see you safe! So relieved!" The man, with brown hair and a resemblance to Lana, undoubtedly her father, appeared younger than expected. Yet, beneath his successful merchant veneer, he exuded a genuine emotion that shone through in his fervent embrace, tears of joy shimmering in his eyes.


    "Fear not, my dear. I am unscathed, without even the faintest blemish. You have my word! I was saved before any harm could befall me!"


    "Petr! I extend my deepest gratitude. Words cannot adequately express my appreciation!" Leo turned to Petr, bowing his head repeatedly, a torrent of gratitude flowing forth.


    "Indeed, much has transpired," Petr replied, his voice laced with gravity.


    As I observed Leo''s reaction, it became clear that he held deep concern for his daughter. He appeared at least a decade younger than me, and I couldn''t help but wonder ¨C had circumstances unfolded differently, could I have become a father capable of displaying such immense devotion to his children?


    "Let us seek solace and respite. How about we all take a seat and unwind?" the innkeeper suggested, her gaze upon us. Following her advice, we settled around a sturdy wooden table.


    "...and that, essentially, sums up the sequence of events," Petr concluded, providing a succinct summary of the tale to Leo, who sat beside Lana.


    "So, you''re the one who saved Lana?" Leo turned toward me, his eyes moist with gratitude. "Thank you, Grand Weaver¡ªuh, I mean¡ªthank you, great and mighty Archmage!"


    While Petr''s explanation lacked intricate details, it was evident that my magical abilities defied the conventional understanding of weaving prevalent in Dravus. Nevertheless, Leo believed Petr''s account without reservation. Over the years, Petr had amassed a wealth of trust as an experienced adventurer.


    "D-don''t trouble yourself with gratitude. I merely acted as any other mage would..." My voice faltered, silenced by the menacing glare from Eryn. Despite my lingering hesitance in accepting such profound appreciation, given our recent discourse, I endeavored to project a more heroic demeanor.


    "At any rate," I asserted, infusing my words with an added measure of force and authority, "I am grateful that justice has prevailed!" Speaking in such a manner did not come naturally to me.


    I glanced at Eryn. Though her expression did not entirely reveal satisfaction, it did suggest that I had at least earned a temporary reprieve.


    Subsequently, the time came to distribute rewards for the adventurers'' efforts. Petr graciously declined, retaining only the initial payment. Instead, he proposed that the reward be bestowed upon me. I attempted to refuse as well, yet Leo implored me incessantly until, ultimately, I acquiesced and accepted the three thousand gold coins.


    "By the way," I interjected, curiosity piqued, "could you provide some insight into the value of three thousand gold coins in this region?"


    "In broad terms, a single gold coin would suffice to feed a family of four the finest cuisine available for a day," Petr explained.


    "Three thousand gold coins could secure a dwelling in Vindaris," Lana added, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "A spacious abode, conducive to a comfortable life for two individuals! Perhaps my father could facilitate introductions on your behalf."


    "Intriguing..."


    Based on the information gleaned from them and a few others, I deduced that one gold coin held an approximate value of ninety US dollars. However, in a medieval realm like Dravus, where currency did not permeate the entire economy, making a direct comparison proved akin to comparing apples to oranges. It seemed that farmers and hunters largely conducted their lives without the need for any form of currency.


    Yet, even with these considerations, my payment amounted to a rough equivalent of over two hundred thousand dollars.


    "By the heavens, that''s quite the sum!" I exclaimed.


    Over two hundred thousand dollars... It eclipsed the entirety of my savings back home.


    "Do you think so? While it is certainly above average, it is not an exorbitant amount. We venture our lives for this work," Petr remarked.


    "Hmm..."


    When seen from that perspective, I pondered. Three thousand gold coins divided among five individuals equates to six hundred each. When evaluated as compensation for perilous undertakings, it becomes challenging to assert that it is excessive. Perhaps it is misguided to assess the amount solely through the lens of a game or modern America.


    "That being said," Leo interjected, "I do not have the payment on my person. Could you retrieve it in Vindaris at a later date? Naturally, I will provide you with a promissory note for the full sum, but please accept this in the meantime."


    Leo produced a leather bag overflowing with one hundred gold coins, extending it toward me. I wasn''t lacking in funds; according to Ember''s character sheet, I possessed over three million gold coins, along with the rest of my inventory. However, refusing would only sour our nascent relationship. Hence, with gratitude, I accepted the bag of coins.


    To ensure there would be no complications, I reached into my robe and withdrew one of the gold T&T coins I possessed, displaying it to Leo. Although its design differed from his own, he assured me that the composition of precious metals was identical. Therefore, using these coins in Dravus should pose no issue, though certain vendors might require time to assess their authenticity.


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    Once our discussion reached a conclusion, we settled into a more relaxed state, savoring the tea provided by the innkeeper. However, it wasn''t long before Lana broke the silence, her voice brimming with curiosity.


    "Mister Ember, there''s something I''d like to ask you."


    With that, she reminded me of her father''s belongings that remained at the bandits'' hideout, requesting my aid in retrieving them. After all, I had conjured the hideout atop a cliff, rendering it inaccessible without my assistance.


    "Now, Lana, we can''t burden Lord Xandros any more than we already have," Leo interjected.


    "B-but..." Lana''s disappointment was palpable.


    "In my homeland, we have a saying," I interposed. "''With great power, comes great responsibility.'' Once everything here is taken care of, I will assist you."


    "Are you certain?" Leo inquired, his voice tinged with uncertainty.


    "Thank you, Mister Ember!" Lana exclaimed, her spirits instantly lifted.


    I gazed at them both and nodded resolutely. "Yes, I am certain," I affirmed, addressing Leo. "However, as I mentioned, there are a few matters I must attend to first."


    "We also have a request for Lord Xandros''s aid," Petr added.


    We still had the fiends'' nest to eradicate. Great power had been bestowed upon me, and with it came a solemn duty to protect.


    "I am willing to wait, but do not forget about us! Our situation will turn dire if we fail to recover those goods," Lana pleaded with a hint of desperation.


    Despite decimating their vanguard, I knew the Fiends could regroup and launch another assault. Petr and the others held a private meeting with the village leader to warn him of the impending threat. Years of trust had solidified the bond between Petr and the mayor, who promised to prepare for an evacuation if necessary.


    Plans were set in motion for David, Greg, Vanessa, and Philip to accompany Leo and Lana on their return to Vindaris, ensuring their safety amidst the escalating danger.


    A sense of relief washed over me as I realized I had achieved my initial objective.


    "Now, may we continue our previous discussion?" Petr inquired, eager to move forward.


    "Um... Yes, indeed... I mean, uh... Please proceed," I stumbled over my words, endeavoring to project an air of gravity. Petr, Eryn, and I had convened in a secluded chamber to strategize our next steps.


    "Our foremost priority is to locate and eliminate the daemons'' lair," Petr declared, his gaze shifting between me and Eryn. We both nodded in accord.


    "I''m relieved that our objectives align," Petr acknowledged, addressing me directly. "I understand that there might be gaps in your knowledge, so allow me to elucidate my thoughts and rationale. Do not hesitate to seek clarity if you have any inquiries."


    "Understood. Thank you," I responded, once again struck by Petr''s eloquence. The president of my former company could have certainly benefited from his articulate communication.


    "When adventurers confront fiends or come across their nesting grounds, it is customary to report such incidents to the Adamant Knights or the Vandaris City Council. Given the location of the fiends we''ve encountered, our typical course of action involves submitting a report to the knights."


    I nodded in comprehension. So, the process entailed filing a report and entrusting the authorities to handle the situation. It sounded like a reasonable system.


    "However, there are complications," Petr continued. "As I mentioned earlier, it has been over a decade since the last legion or nesting occurred in this region. Many members of the council and the knightly order do not consider eradicating fiends a significant responsibility."


    "So, you''re suggesting that we may not be able to secure their assistance? We witnessed an entire legion of fiends ourselves," I argued. "Surely they would recognize the gravity of the situation."


    "It partly depends on whether they find our account believable," Petr replied gravely.


    Eryn nodded, her expression mirroring the gravity of the situation.


    "But why wouldn''t they believe us...?" I trailed off, perplexed by the idea.


    "We encountered a legion of fiends, and then an Archmage¡ªa weaver of unprecedented power¡ªcoincidentally appeared and obliterated them with a barrage of meteors," Petr explained. "Do you think anyone would readily accept such a tale?"


    "Ah... I see now," I admitted. I needed to internalize this truth: This was not America. It wasn''t even Earth. I couldn''t assume that the authorities would readily come to our aid.


    From the council and the knights'' standpoint, the existence of fiends remained unverified information supported by a solitary source. While evidence of the legion''s presence and its mode of annihilation did exist, it existed solely in the field. The fiends had not laid waste to a village, and none of the knights had personally witnessed their existence.


    "I don''t allege that the knights and the council harbor complete distrust in us, but I suspect they will find our narrative implausible. Even if they opt to believe it, they may not regard the threat as significant. It is highly likely that they will postpone any decisive action," Petr concluded.


    I contemplated the situation, recognizing the familiar pattern of inaction that resonated even in tales from America.


    "If we were willing to invest time and present the valley''s devastation to them, or await the fiends'' resurgence, eventually they would have no choice but to acknowledge our veracity. However, that is not a viable course," Petr continued.


    "Engaging in such a strategy would only result in further unnecessary casualties," Eryn interjected.


    A thought sprang to my mind, and I articulated it aloud. "What if I were to demonstrate my abilities as a magic user capable of obliterating a legion of fiends? Do you think they would believe us then?"


    Eryn responded, "It is not a path I would prefer, but I believe they would."


    "To be frank, it is the only option available to us. Your actions defy logic," Petr admitted.


    I began to fathom their perspective. The authorities'' acceptance of our account now depended heavily on their acknowledgment of me as a magic user capable of defying conventional wisdom. However, I also realized the potential danger in revealing my powers too overtly¡ªit could lead them to perceive me as a greater threat than the fiends themselves. The deeper meaning behind Petr and Eryn''s insistence on my role as a hero began to crystallize.


    "Hmm..." I mulled over their words. I had failed to fully grasp the implications of our situation. I had naively assumed that I would merely accompany them and the knights, ready with a few spells as a precaution.


    Having spent two decades as a professional in America, I had encountered and navigated numerous conflicts inherent to that environment. Drawing parallels to my past experiences, I realized that this situation boiled down to matters of persona. There existed a correct manner of conduct in certain circumstances, and it was crucial to adapt to the role one played, even if it meant donning a metaphorical mask.


    For many years, I had concealed my true self behind the mask of a seasoned corporate worker, presenting a facade of a genial middle-aged man with a fondness for games. Surviving in the cutthroat world of business had demanded the ability to choose the appropriate mask for each occasion. And now, faced with a new reality, I understood the significance of that masquerade.


    I gazed upwards, my words directed towards the ceiling, as I contemplated this revelation. "So, that''s why I''ve been plagued by this unsettling sense of insecurity since my arrival..."


    Ever since awakening in that dreary jail cell, I had shed any pretense of a persona. However, existing without a mask meant standing on shaky ground. As an individual transported to a foreign world with unimaginable powers at my disposal, what guise should I adopt?


    Lowering my gaze, I locked eyes with Petr and Eryn. Various options flickered through my mind, but I knew I could do better.


    "I understand now," I declared.


    "Good," Petr acknowledged.


    Eryn''s gaze narrowed, her scrutiny penetrating. "Are you truly certain you comprehend?"


    "For the time being, I shall assume the role of a mighty and revered Archmage. Though it feels peculiar to speak these words aloud, it is an undeniable truth."


    It had never been my intention to find myself in this peculiar position, I mused, yet I had willingly chosen the name Emberus Blazeus Xandros in the presence of a divine being, and thus, I must shoulder the consequences of that decision. Until the fiends'' nest was located and eradicated, I would wear this mask.


    "Very well," Petr affirmed. "Maintain that facade, at least for now."


    "Well... I concur," Eryn voiced her agreement. "For the present, that shall suffice."


    As I busied myself with preparations for my journey to the Adamant Fortress, the esteemed stronghold of the Order of the Adamant Knights, a knock resounded upon the door of my inn room.


    "May I intrude upon your time?" It was Eryn.


    "Of course. Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable."


    She had likely come to discuss the disparities between magic and weaving, the conversation she had mentioned could potentially shake the very foundations of the Weavers'' Guild...


    "Could you perhaps drop the excessive formality? Your true nature is peeking through, Mister ''Great and Powerful Archmage.''"


    Her words carried wisdom, prompting me to try once more. "I suppose I can spare a few moments."


    "Not bad," she responded, a faint smile gracing her lips. It might have been the first time I witnessed her genuine smile.


    I regarded her anew, appreciating the youthful radiance she emanated with her azure eyes and golden hair. A reflexive wariness had initially guarded me against her charms, but gradually, its grip was loosening.


    "What did you wish to inquire about?" I asked.


    "There are many inquiries I''d like to make, but given our time constraints, I have one particular question that I would appreciate an answer to," she said, her gaze unwavering as she locked eyes with me.


    "Our lineage as weavers stretches unbroken from the establishment of the first institutions dedicated to the study of this art, over two centuries ago. Since then, weaving has been passed down and refined through tireless dedication. I, too, have invested countless years and months to reach my current standing. However, even if the entire Weavers'' Guild pooled their abilities, it would pale in comparison to your magic. Hence, my question is this: Does your magic represent a power unique to you alone? Or..."


    Eryn''s voice faded to a hushed tone, resembling that of a child sharing a fearful rumor.


    "Is it something that anyone can learn through study?"


    Naturally, I couldn''t divulge the truth¡ªthat I was initially conceived as a character for a game and that the foundation of my magic originated from a source book from the 1960s.


    Moments slipped away in silence.


    Eryn''s gaze remained fixed on me, her blue eyes glistening with moisture, awaiting my response. To an outside observer, it might appear romantic, ignorant of the circumstances at hand.


    What is she truly asking? I pondered. If my magic were akin to the techniques of weaving, attainable through diligent study, what implications would that hold for her? Is she questioning the worth of her tireless efforts in mastering weaving in light of my magic?


    I comprehend. Such a revelation would undoubtedly plunge the Weavers'' Guild into disarray. To disrupt their entire way of life would evoke such remorse within me that I would be compelled to beg for their forgiveness.


    Hmm... I truly do not know.


    Emberus'' magic was nothing more than a fiction I had familiarized myself with from the core ruleset of T&T (Tunnels & Trolls). Yet, in this realm of Dravus, that fiction had materialized into reality. God fashioned my magic based on my notes and the T&T sourcebooks, which meticulously outlined the steps required to acquire the abilities of a Level 1 Mage. Hence, it wasn''t inconceivable that if someone in Dravus were to follow those guidelines, they, too, might harness magic. However, it was equally plausible that magic was a skill bestowed solely upon me by God, and no other denizen of Dravus possessed such power. If that were to be my answer, would it bring solace to Eryn? I wondered.


    However much I contemplated the matter, I knew it would be presumptuous of me to believe I could accurately fathom the inner workings of a woman''s mind. Prudence dictated that I err on the side of caution.


    "Are you... troubled by something?" I asked, treading carefully.


    "Troubled? Perhaps I am. You run the risk of uprooting an entire world I have held faith in."


    "I understand," I acknowledged. It appeared my intuition was on target. Yet, that did not alter the fact that I lacked a definitive answer. So why not simply convey that to her?


    "While there are indeed learnable techniques associated with a Mage''s magic, I cannot confidently ascertain whether someone else could wield that magic solely through studying said techniques. I simply do not possess that knowledge. But Eryn, I want you to comprehend that I share your apprehension. I, too, am filled with uncertainty."


    "You are?" Eryn blinked, seemingly relieved by my inconclusive response. Nevertheless, she remained intrigued, desiring to hear the remainder of my thoughts.


    "You mentioned that the world you have believed in may crumble away. From my perspective, your weaving is equally confounding. A weaver named Karyon nearly claimed my life with their skills..."


    The latter portion of my statement was an honest reflection, not a mere attempt to placate Eryn. However, I must confess that the former portion possessed a touch of cunning. I was employing the tried-and-true strategies honed during my time in the workforce: When confronted with a question to which one cannot provide an answer, express empathy initially to preserve the trust between parties.


    "You raise a valid point. This cannot be a one-sided conversation with me merely posing questions," Eryn remarked, her lips curling into a faint smile. The time had come, I thought, and I resolved to seize the moment. I posed a question that had been lingering in my mind about weaving.


    "Weaving practitioners manipulate mana threads within their bodies to interact with the weave of mana that saturates the world," Eryn replied, her tone tinged with pride. "Approximately one in ten individuals are born with the ability to perceive and harness mana. Those without this inherent capacity cannot become weavers."


    "I understand. So those who possess mana can also perceive mana in others," I mused.


    "Indeed. That is why, with a mere glance, I can discern that you possess no mana whatsoever," Eryn affirmed, disregarding the latter part of her statement. I thought to myself that she mentioned weaving as a power hidden within nature, whereas my magic derived from arcane forces beyond the confines of nature itself, altering the very fabric of reality. The fundamental essence was inherently distinct.


    "But does that imply that anyone born with mana can practice weaving?" I inquired.


    "No, even if one is born with mana, without the ability to sense their Aether Strand, they cannot become a true weaver," Eryn elucidated.


    Aether Strand, I contemplated. It appeared to be a phenomenon exclusive to weavers, and after a considerable exchange, she did her best to explain until I grasped its essence.


    To summarize our discourse: A weaver''s apprentice, through training that enhances their mana perception and control, gains the ability to perceive a luminous Strand, akin to a thick rope composed of interwoven threads. This rope, known as an Aether Strand, consists of mana fibers.


    A weaver harnesses the power of weaving by manipulating the mana within their Aether Strand, rearranging the threads to weave a spell. However, among those born with mana, only a scarce one in ten possess the ability to visualize their Aether Strands, resulting in a limited number of potential weavers. According to Eryn''s account, there were merely twenty weavers in all of Vandaris City.


    "For instance, within my Aether Strand, there are threads that represent the quantity of available mana, along with fibers associated with elemental aspects such as fire, wind, whip, and arrow," Eryn explained. "By combining, let''s say, fire and whip, and deftly manipulating the threads, I can initiate a weaving known as Ignis Pulsa."


    "I find it fascinating," I replied, genuinely intrigued by the systematic nature of weaving. It possessed a remarkable resemblance to the mechanics of a game¡ªa notion that did not elude me, the irony not lost.


    "Oh, I recall something Karyon, the weaver, mentioned. Are you familiar with the Arcanists?" I inquired.


    "The Arcanists... they are one of the weaver factions," Eryn confirmed.


    "Weaver factions, you say?" I pondered. It appeared that the weavers of Dravus had divided into different factions, each with their distinct approach to weaving. The Arcanists focused on scholarly pursuits, delving into research to further comprehend and explore the intricacies of weaving. They were renowned for their creation of enigmatic materia. On the other hand, Eryn belonged to the Sentinels of the Veil, whose members viewed weaving primarily as a means to combat fiends.


    "It seems likely that Karyon was a black weaver, universally despised by all the factions," I remarked, accompanied by a graceful shrug. Whether it pertained to weaving or any other aspect of this world, the more I discovered, the more questions arose. Nevertheless, I resolved to accept this as an integral part of the process of acquiring comprehensive knowledge.

 Fortress Meeting

    PETR, ERYN, AND I traversed the open plains, our destination set upon the horizon¡ªthe formidable Adamant Fortress. As we ventured forth, our path remained undisturbed, free from the clutches of misfortune. Perched atop a gentle hill, the fortress emerged, an imposing figure amidst the landscape.


    Its grandeur revealed itself to us, fortified towers reaching skyward, their stony visage gray as if marked by the very essence of its name. Adamant walls, fifteen meters high, encircled the stronghold, a testament to its impenetrable nature. From a distance, I discerned the border it occupied, a boundary that separated the realm of humans from the desolate wasteland of red, charred earth.


    It stood resolute, a guardian declaring to the world, "Here lies the demarcation between the dominion of mankind and the realm of monstrous creatures."


    The lineage of the Adamant Knights could be traced back to the valiant Lumeos, who waged a fierce war against the fiends over a century ago. Charged with the solemn duty of safeguarding Maridal Village and its surroundings from the encroaching threat of monsters, the Adamant Knights had long been revered as custodians of the borderlands.


    However, Petr confided in us that the spirits of the knights had been dampened by the waning appearances of fiends in the past decade. Morale had plummeted, and the specter of concern began to cast its shadow over my own heart.


    Our arrival at the fortress only served to intensify our shared trepidation. Seeking an audience with the captain of the knights, we were escorted through the twin gates and ushered into what appeared to be a conference room. Yet, despite our status as guests, the figure awaiting us within was not the captain we anticipated. Instead, we were met by a middle-aged man, Edward by name, who presented himself as a strategist of the fortress.


    "As a renowned adventurer, I have faith that you speak the truth," Edward''s voice droned on, devoid of interest. Yet, it was evident that he harbored doubts, believing our words to be naught but falsehoods. "However," he continued, "I have reservations."


    "I could fathom your skepticism if it were solely Petr who brought forth this tale. But do you dare insinuate that I, Eryn, esteemed as the fifth rank of the Vandaris Weavers'' Guild, would stoop to propagate a fabrication?" Eryn''s hands found their place on her hips as she fixed a piercing gaze upon the strategist.


    Caught in the crossfire of Eryn''s allure, noble bearing, and her esteemed weaver status, Edward''s brow dampened with a cold sweat. "N-No, certainly not. It''s just that... when you speak of this man petrifying a weaver and commanding meteors to rain from the heavens... forgive me for finding such claims nothing short of preposterous."


    Petr interjected, seeking an alternative course. "Is there no avenue to directly converse with the captain of the knights? And if not, might we secure an audience with the commander of the first company?"


    "Captain Armand Stevenson is presently indisposed, plagued by health ailments," Edward responded, his voice tinged with a hint of inconvenience. "As for Commander Albert, he is currently engaged in patrolling duties."


    Both Petr and Eryn endeavored to elucidate the nature of my magical abilities and the appearance of the legion, yet Edward remained resolute in dismissing their assertions without a hint of earnest consideration.


    I had not anticipated such unwavering rejection... What recourse remained to us? My gaze flitted towards Petr, searching for a solution.


    "In that case," Petr declared, his tone resolute, "we shall bide our time until Albert''s return."


    "I regret to inform you that you may not lodge within the castle without explicit permission from one of the commanding officers," Edward replied with a touch of finality.


    "Tch."


    Did Petr just click his tongue in frustration?


    Petr, bless his stubborn soul, wasn''t one to easily navigate the realm of hard-headed individuals. In such situations, I typically stepped in, ready to engage in persistent and long-winded negotiations. However, it appeared that Eryn had a different plan in mind.


    "Why don''t we simply barge into the captain''s room?" she proposed, her suggestion cutting through the tension.


    It seemed I had overestimated my own potential involvement. Eryn''s straightforward approach left me pondering the need for my own intervention. However, considering the volatile nature of both Eryn and Petr, I surmised that their fuses were more likely to ignite before any resolution could be reached.


    "Excuse me, but I advise you to reevaluate the credentials of this man," I interjected, hoping to redirect the conversation. "Are you insinuating that he is a swindler? Do you truly believe I would be so easily deceived?"


    This stalemate was leading us nowhere, as I concluded with a resigned sigh. Just then, one of the doors swung open with a resounding slam.


    A colossal figure strode into the room, resembling nothing short of a seasoned wrestler. His sheer size appeared to exceed three hundred pounds, and it was a marvel that his armor managed to contain his immense form. Judging by his countenance, he appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties.


    "What in Preservation''s name is transpiring here, causing such commotion within my fortress?" His words rang out, leaving no room for ambiguity. Pray, let this not be the captain, I silently pleaded.


    "Sir Gilbert, the castle is under the jurisdiction of the order, not an individual," Edward hastily explained.


    It came as no surprise that the icy glares from both Petr and Eryn immediately chilled the air, but what surprised me was the cool disdain with which even the strategist, Edward, treated him. Clearly, he was not the captain, yet his overbearing arrogance remained unmistakable.


    "What did you say?" Sir Gilbert''s voice thundered, his tone dripping with indignation. "I am a direct descendant of the very founder of this esteemed order, Gideon Adamant! Need I remind you of the order''s name itself? The Adamant Knight Order! It is clear as day that this fortress is rightfully mine!"


    Edward''s response carried an air of authority. "Our charter contains no such provision. Sir Gilbert, you hold the position of a mere company commander."


    Ah, I couldn''t help but appreciate the unintentional enlightenment. I had encountered individuals of this sort in the corporate world from time to time. Strike at their pride, and they become susceptible to manipulation.


    "Brother!" a new voice interjected, resounding with disapproval. A figure barged into the room, effortlessly pushing Gilbert aside. Clad in armor less adorned than Gilbert''s, she possessed a wild mane of red hair, marking her as a knight of lower standing than both Gilbert and Edward.


    Wait. Did she just say "Brother"?


    "Petr, Eryn, I must apologize on behalf of my impetuous brother," the knight addressed us with a hint of regret.


    "It''s quite all right," Eryn responded, her voice carrying a soothing tone.


    "Lin, perfect timing," Petr acknowledged. "Please, lend us your ear. Fiends have emerged, and we suspect a large nest lies at the root of their incursion."


    Petr and Eryn seemed acquainted with this knight. Lin, was it? Her name echoed in my mind.


    "What?!" exclaimed Lin, her eyes widening in alarm.


    "Are you serious?!" Sir Gilbert interjected, his voice brimming with excitement.


    "Fiends? Fiends! And you claim there''s a nest? Excellent! Tell us where it is! The Adamant Knights and I will crush them without hesitation!" Gilbert''s fervor emanated from every word he uttered.


    "Petr, if what you say is true, we cannot afford to disregard this matter," Lin stated with a resolute tone, her eyes focused on Petr.


    "Sir Gilbert, Lady Linden, you mustn''t give credence to their outlandish claims. Their story is nothing short of absurd!" Edward interjected, his voice tinged with disdain.


    Silence settled upon the room, heavy with the weight of the three knights'' vastly contrasting reactions. Petr and Eryn found themselves at a loss for words. While Gilbert and Linden exhibited clear interest in delving further into the matter of the fiends, Edward, the one wielding the greatest authority, persisted in his attempts to drive us away.


    I suppose I have no choice, I contemplated. Reluctant as I was, it was time to assume the guise of a formidable and powerful wielder of magic.


    "Greetings, Sir Gilbert and Lady Linden," I declared, rising from my seat with deliberate grace. Placing my hand over my heart, I executed a bow, praying that my outward appearance exuded more confidence than I truly felt within.


    "Who in Preservation''s name are you?" Sir Gilbert retorted, his voice laced with skepticism. "Are you one of Petr''s recruits? Although, ''new'' might be a stretch considering your age, Pops."


    Linden, the red-haired knight, directed her attention to me. "Judging by your appearance, I assume you are a weaver, good sir. But what brings you to our fortress?"


    "I apologize for any confusion, but you are mistaken. I am none other than the Archmage, Emberus Blazeus Xandros," I announced, emphasizing my grandiose title.


    Gilbert and Linden exchanged a glance. If they truly were siblings, their connection seemed stronger than their apparent bickering suggested, I mused.


    "Yes," Petr intervened, seeking to clarify matters. "With his formidable magic, he single-handedly vanquished a weaver leading a bandit group in the treacherous mountains and decimated an entire army of fiends before they could lay siege to our humble village."


    "What?!" Gilbert''s disbelief was palpable.


    "I am starting to comprehend why some might find your tale implausible," Linden chimed in.


    "Should doubts persist regarding my abilities, there is no need for words. Allow my power to speak for itself," I calmly responded, deliberately extending my arm and pointing to a spot on the floor.


    While the Adamant siblings, Gilbert and Linden, along with Edward, regarded me with dubious gazes, I refrained from reacting and initiated my incantation.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "By the repercussions of this spell, I summon forth the statue in my possession. Recall," I intoned, channeling my magical energy.


    The air just above the designated spot on the floor warped and shimmered. Gradually, the indistinct gray haze solidified, revealing the unmistakable form of the Karyon statue. Through the use of Recall, I summoned the very statue we had concealed amidst the verdant bushes outside Maridal Village. As always, the statue depicted Karyon''s visage, contorted in a visage of terror.


    "What?!" Edward gasped, his astonishment laid bare for all to see.


    Gilbert stood there, utterly dumbfounded, while Linden recoiled with a piercing shriek. It appeared that my "Grand Archmage Demonstration: Part 1" had achieved the desired effect.


    "This scoundrel," I elucidated, gesturing toward the transformed figure, "is the leader of a notorious bandit gang that targeted the caravan of Leo, a respected merchant hailing from Vandaris City. They kidnapped his daughter, subjecting him to immense anguish. I present him to you so that he may face the consequences of his actions, as dictated by your laws."


    Truth be told, I was uncertain whether the order of knights possessed the authority to adjudicate crimes or administer justice. I may have gotten a tad carried away.


    "However, in his current petrified state, extracting information or holding him accountable for his misdeeds would prove quite challenging. Allow me to rectify that. Through this spell, all mana within a three-meter radius shall be returned to the void. Dispel Magic."


    With a flourish, I cast a second spell, dissolving the petrification that had befallen Karyon. A brilliant light enveloped the statue, only to dissipate as swiftly as it had manifested. What remained was a feeble, disoriented man, collapsed upon the floor.


    "Rgh... Ahh... Augh," he groaned incoherently.


    The restoration of the statue back into its human form seemed to elicit a more profound reaction from the audience than the mere conjuring of the object itself. The three knights stood there, mouths agape, observing Karyon''s feeble state as he lay helpless, unable to articulate coherent words or even rise to his feet.


    Petr and Eryn, though less overt in their expressions, appeared equally astounded. Magic possessed the capacity for more than mere destruction, as they were now witnessing firsthand.


    "The...the statue...transformed into a human..."


    "But...you...how...?"


    Their disjointed utterances mirrored the bewilderment that shrouded their thoughts.


    "Am...amazing..."


    I proceeded to walk unhurriedly in front of the trio, their minds still ensnared by astonishment, and approached Karyon. No need for haste. I took measured steps, acknowledging a twinge of guilt as I beheld his vacant, unfocused gaze. Yet, I quelled the pang, extending my hand to retrieve my Staff from his grasp.


    "This artifact is mine," I asserted, my words directed at Gilbert, who stood there perspiring profusely. Upon closer observation, I noticed he had positioned himself in front of the red-haired knight, as though shielding her from any perceived harm. Perhaps he possessed redeeming qualities after all, I mused.


    "To reiterate," I commenced, enunciating each syllable with meticulous care, "I am Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros. I humbly request an audience with the esteemed captain of the renowned Adamant Knights or any suitable representatives of your esteemed order. Our discussion pertains to the imminent threat posed by fiends that currently plagues these lands. If necessary, I am prepared to await the proper consideration of my request here."


    My speech unfolded deliberately, weighted with utmost gravity. With the conclusion of my final utterance, I emphatically tapped the bottom of my staff against the floor.


    "I trust you shall procure the requisite permissions," I declared.


    All three knights nodded their heads with alacrity.


    Given that Albert, the captain''s son, would not return until the following day, we found ourselves compelled to spend the night within the confines of Adamant Fortress.


    Nightfall descended swiftly upon the city of Dravus, its early arrival dictated by the scarcity of lamp oil that forced most residents to seek slumber soon after sunset. Edward, our guide within the Adamant Castle, led us to a modest guest room, ensuring Eryn had a partition for some semblance of privacy.


    Sleep eluded me, and in my restlessness, I turned to Petr, seeking further illumination on the enigmatic Adamant Knights. With an air of eager anticipation, he readily obliged, settling into a chair beside the crackling hearth. The warm glow of the fire cast dancing shadows upon his face, lending him the air of a natural-born raconteur.


    "Once known as the Sunrise Prairie, the charred expanse to the east of Adamant Fortress is now referred to as the Dusk Frontier. Delving into the tale behind this change in nomenclature shall grant you a glimpse into the storied history of the Adamant Knights," Petr began.


    He wove a narrative that stretched back a century and a half, to the time of Gideon Adamant, the revered founder and inaugural captain of the renowned order. In those days, when the second cataclysmic fiend outbreak loomed ominously, Gideon Adamant and his Lumeos Knights stood as a bulwark against the encroaching hordes, emerging triumphant from countless battles.


    Gideon''s heroism earned him adulation in Lumeos, prompting the kingdom to acquiesce to the fervent public demand. Thus, an independent order of knights was granted existence, charged with safeguarding the borderlands. As a testament to his valor, Valor Keep was bequeathed to Gideon, its location nestled within the heart of the Sunrise Prairie.


    However, three decades hence, the Necrotide Onslaught struck like a malevolent tempest. Legions of the undead surged forth, their motivations shrouded in mystery, and Valor Keep fell under the relentless assault. Whispers abound regarding Gideon''s fate: some claim he perished defending the fortress, while others contend he succumbed and now roams the land as one of the unliving. The remaining members of the knightly order and the displaced denizens of the prairie retreated westward, where they erected a new bastion¡ªthe Adamant Fortress. With unwavering resolve, they swore an oath to protect the land from both fiends and the scourge of undeath.


    While they have dutifully upheld their solemn pledge, it is said that the forsaken Valor Keep remains a haunted edifice, plagued by lingering specters of the undead¡ªthough such accounts may be little more than spectral rumors and superstitious whispers that cling to its forsaken halls.


    "And thus, the Sunrise Prairie transformed into the Dusk Frontier," Petr concluded his tale with a somber tone, the weight of history hanging in the air.


    I couldn''t help but voice my thoughts, softly murmuring, "So, the taint of undeath reaches even these lands." Swiftly realizing my momentary lapse, I refocused my attention on the matter at hand.


    "From what you''ve shared," I pressed on, "it seems that two centuries past, the outbreak of undeath drove the Adamant Knights from their ancestral domain, claiming the life of their first captain. Is it then the reason why the order no longer bears the name of Adamant? Was the family held accountable for the initial captain''s failure, thus losing their hold on power?"


    Petr shook his head, countering my assumption. "No, there is another reason for that," he clarified. "Around fifteen years ago, if I recall correctly, the captain of that time sought to reclaim Valor from the clutches of the undead. Despite strong opposition, he pressed forward with his ill-fated plan..."


    Understanding dawned upon me. "Ah, I see."


    Eryn chimed in, joining our conversation. "It turned into a complete and utter disaster," she interjected. "Not only that, but the losses incurred during that ill-fated expedition severely hindered the knights'' ability to mount an effective resistance when the fiends'' nest was discovered five years later."


    Petr nodded, adding further context. "Indeed, and that ill-fated captain was none other than Gilbert''s father," he revealed. "Removed from his position, he is but a mere shadow of his former self, so they say."


    Such tales of hubris and misguided ambition echoed the corporate world''s fables, where managers gambled their organizations'' fates on grand projects destined for failure. I couldn''t help but draw a parallel, understanding the motivations behind the boisterous siblings. They were members of a once-proud lineage, striving to reclaim the power that had rightfully belonged to their family. To compound their hardship, their own father had been the architect of their downfall. It must be an arduous path they walk, likely drawing the ire of their fellow knights. Perhaps that is why Gilbert feels compelled to assert dominance with such fervor.


    "To be young," I muttered under my breath, not in a tone of mockery but rather tinged with a hint of sorrow. I pitied them, yet I couldn''t help but feel a touch of envy for their youthful vigor.


    Petr and Eryn, however, did not share my wistful sentiments, particularly when it came to Gilbert.


    "While I sympathize with Linden, Gilbert deserves whatever scorn he receives," Eryn declared with a firmness in her voice.


    "Perhaps... but children do not choose their parents," I interjected, offering a more nuanced perspective.


    "We''ll have to agree to disagree on that matter. No justification can excuse his deplorable conduct," Eryn retorted, casting a quizzical glance my way, questioning my continued sympathy for Gilbert.


    Shifting the conversation, Petr interjected, "By the way, Sir Stevenson, the current captain of the knights, was formerly the vice-captain."


    "He is a man of great wisdom," added Eryn, "and although his son, Sir Albert, may not possess the same commanding presence as his father, he is an exceptional knight. I have no doubt that he will lead his fellow knights in resolving this predicament."


    The power structure within the Adamant Knights began at the pinnacle with the captain, followed by a council of advisors, and then the four commanders of each company, ranked from one to four. Albert, the captain''s son, held the esteemed position of commander of the first company, while Gilbert commanded the second.


    Captain Stevenson, being advanced in years, was expected to retire from his position soon, yet his successor had not been determined. The two prominent candidates vying for the esteemed mantle were none other than Albert and Gilbert themselves, each harboring ambitions to ascend to the captaincy.


    "You''re telling me that Gilbert is considered a viable candidate... Is he genuinely popular?" I inquired, a tinge of incredulity coloring my voice.


    "Well, he is a direct descendant of the order''s founder," Petr responded, his tone carrying a hint of explanation. "And in the eyes of some, his prowess with a blade surpasses that of any other knight."


    "I beg to differ. Linden, even if she refuses to acknowledge it, outshines him in skill. But both of them undoubtedly possess more influence than Albert. It''s hardly a competition," Eryn chimed in, expanding upon the topic.


    It seemed that raw power held significant sway in the city of Dravus.


    "That female knight... Linden Adamant, or is it Lin? Tell me more about her," I pressed, curiosity piqued.


    "Linden Adamant is Gilbert''s younger half-sister," Petr clarified. "They share a father but have different mothers. Frankly, I''m astonished they have any common blood between them."


    "While her brother may falter, Linden is a true knight. She holds the position of lieutenant commander in the second company. However, her experience is somewhat lacking..." Eryn added, offering further insight.


    It appeared that Gilbert bore the brunt of everyone''s disdain, I mused, just as a knock resounded at the door.


    "Forgive the intrusion, Lord Petr, Lady Eryn, Master Mage. Are you still awake?" It was Linden''s voice from behind the door.


    I anticipated Petr to respond, yet as I glanced at him, he merely stared back, leaving me to address the visitor.


    "Yes, I am awake. Pray tell... Aherm. Is there something you require?" I attempted to infuse grandeur into my words, but my voice faltered, betraying my lack of confidence. Eryn struggled to suppress her amusement, her mouth twitching with the effort.


    Well, I am doing my best, you know?


    "Thank the heavens. Could you please open the door? I apologize for the late hour, but dinner has been prepared, and we would be grateful for your presence," Linden requested.


    Dinner...


    I hadn''t anticipated being invited to partake in a meal, having already satisfied my hunger for the night. However, declining the offer would be impolite, wouldn''t it?


    "I am not particularly hungry, but I appreciate your hospitality. I shall attend," I decided, acting without consulting Petr. When I glanced at him, he responded with a smirk before moving to open the door. As it swung open, Linden stood before us, holding a candlestick that cast a soft glow upon her face. She possessed a striking beauty, her intense eyes capturing my attention for a moment. Regrettably, her expression seemed rigid, betraying her nervousness.


    "It seems Lord Xandros will be delighted to join. Are we also invited?" Petr inquired, offering his assistance.


    "Thank you. My brother will be most pleased," Linden replied, then turned to Petr. "And yes, you are welcome as well."


    "My brother will be happy"? Could it be that the one hosting this dinner is...


    "Hey there, Lord Mage! Help yourself to as much as you want! I personally selected the castle chef, you know. The man''s truly talented, don''t you think?!" Gilbert''s voice boomed across the room.


    "Uh-huh..."


    Unfortunately, my prediction proved accurate. Gilbert awaited us at the table as we entered the dining hall.


    The expansive table groaned under the weight of steaming plates, each brimming with food. There was barely any space left between the dishes, a befitting display for the colossal knight. I found myself seated at Gilbert''s end of the table, subjected to his interpretation of lavish hospitality. It became evident that his notion of entertaining guests centered primarily around providing them with delectable food. I must admit, everything was truly delicious, but still...


    "This chicken is marinated in kumis overnight before being roasted. Isn''t the meat tender? It practically melts in your mouth!" Gilbert exclaimed.


    "Yes... It is indeed delicious... Ngh..." I managed to reply between bites. The chicken thigh impressed me with its succulence and a delicate blend of sweet and sour flavors. However, I had already surpassed my limit.


    "Brother, stop forcing more food on him. It''s impolite. Can''t you see he doesn''t want any more?" Linden interjected, her voice filled with exasperation.


    "Shut your mouth! We''re having an important conversation here!" Gilbert retorted.


    What part of anything you''ve said could be considered important?


    Yet, if I viewed it from a different angle, these knights were our current sponsors, and hadn''t I just been sympathizing with their misfortunes moments ago? I suppressed my instinct to protest. Perhaps this was an opportunity to capture their attention with a couple of well-executed magic tricks...


    ...or maybe not.


    Just as I was relying a little too heavily on my survival instincts from corporate dinners, I noticed Petr and Eryn subtly signaling me with their eyes. It was time to conclude this affair.


    "That was an incredibly delicious meal, but I simply couldn''t eat another bite," I declared, washing down the last remnants of meat with a sip of wine.


    "Gilbert, would you kindly proceed and share your thoughts? Lord Xandros is growing weary," Petr urged.


    "We cannot afford to waste Lord Xandros''s precious time with trivial banter," added Eryn.


    Petr and Eryn piled on Gilbert, ostensibly in my defense, but it was evident that they were seizing the opportunity to vent their frustrations.


    "Silence! A pair of wretched adventurers have no right to speak to me in such a manner!" Gilbert roared, slamming his fists onto the table and grinding his teeth.


    "Brother! That is enough!" Linden shouted, and without warning, she delivered a forceful punch to Gilbert''s face, the impact resonating with the clatter of bones¡ªa perfect jab from a skilled pugilist.


    What kind of relationship do these siblings share? Petr and Eryn don''t seem fazed... Is this their normal dynamic?


    "Please accept our apologies, Lord Xandros," Linden pleaded, placing her hand over her heart as she bowed to me. "I implore you to stay and hear what my brother has to say."


    "Hmph!" Gilbert grunted, his bruised face already showing signs of discoloration, before downing his glass of wine as if nothing had happened.


    "Very well," I responded. "I will listen, provided he begins without further delay."


    A part of me yearned to reprimand Gilbert for making his sister apologize on his behalf or to demand that he meet my gaze. However, Linden''s solemn plea held greater sway over me.


    Once Gilbert had drained his glass, he finally turned his attention towards me.


    "It''s a straightforward proposition, Lord Mage. I have decided to offer you the opportunity to become one of my subordinates!"


    Ah, leave it to him to utter such preposterous words, as if they carried weight and importance.


    I found myself momentarily speechless, my mind reeling from the audacity of Gilbert''s proposition. Without turning my head, I glanced towards Petr and Eryn. Petr expressed his frustration with a disappointed click of his tongue, while Eryn''s forehead pulsated with a prominent vein, a menacing smile tugging at her lips.


    "Apologies, but I must decline," I finally replied. In that moment, my act slipped slightly, but under the circumstances, who could blame me?


    "What?! Are you suggesting that you would reject the invitation of the heir to the Adamant family?!" Gilbert bellowed, sweeping his bulky arms across the table, causing plates to clatter in his wake.


    "At present, I have no desire to serve under any master."


    If I had been subjected to such a verbal assault back in America, I likely would have struggled to maintain my composure, becoming as helpless as a deer caught in the glow of headlights. In fact, that was precisely how I had fared against the bandits. Yet, even though it had only been my third day in Dravus, it seemed that I had already begun to develop a thicker skin.


    "What did you say?! I am an Adamant!" Gilbert exclaimed, his fist clenched.


    "Brother!" Linden interjected swiftly.


    "What? Ah! Ow! S-stop!"


    She promptly seized his arm, twisted it behind his back, and proceeded to drag him out of the room as he writhed in pain.


    "Ow, ow, ow! Lin! Sis, you can''t just¡ªoww!!!"


    "I apologize, Master Mage! Petr, Eryn, I had no idea he was planning something like this... I will extend a proper apology to you later!" Linden paused to bow her head repeatedly, while Gilbert cursed and futilely struggled against her grip.


    And then, she hauled him away.


    "I knew it would be something foolish," muttered Petr, seizing the opportunity to pour himself another glass of exquisite wine before we departed.

 Summoning the council

    THE FOLLOWING MORNING dawned, and an urgent summons reverberated throughout our sanctuary. A sense of urgency gripped us, spurring us into swift preparation. Eryn, stationed by the entrance, wasted no time expressing her impatience.


    "Finally, the time has come," she remarked with a touch of haughtiness.


    Though Eryn often carried herself with an air of superiority, her ability to keep meticulous track of our comrades was undeniable. As I brushed off my robe and smoothed my hair, I mused on this thought. I had adorned myself with an assortment of rare and potent magical artifacts, from the resplendent folds of my robe to the intricate engravings adorning my boots. Each finger boasted rings of power, while amulets adorned my neck in abundance. Were a connoisseur of treasures from Tombs & Titans to gaze upon my accoutrements, they would surely marvel at the staggering opulence of it all. Alas, it seemed the weavers of Dravus failed to recognize the true worth of my equipment.


    "Does it not inspire awe?" I asked, emulating the grand magician from the renowned fantasy epic, Dragonslayer, striking a dramatic pose for emphasis.


    "Uh...yes," Petr muttered, his gaze averted.


    "Undeniably...terrifying," Eryn added, her eyes scanning the hall''s perimeter.


    If that were indeed the case, then why did both of them avert their gazes?


    The gathering convened within the majestic confines of the fortress''s grand hall. As we made our way, I adjusted my posture, standing tall with shoulders squared, as though delivering a momentous presentation to a panel of esteemed directors. Together, Petr and I meticulously reviewed the outline of our forthcoming "presentation," meticulously determining our course of action. Our objective? To persuade the council to deploy a contingent of knights¡ªnay, an entire company¡ªto undertake the perilous task of exterminating the unholy abomination that infested our lands.


    If I were to be frank, the task of obliterating the fiendish nest and a couple of legions single-handedly would be well within my capabilities, as long as I allowed myself a liberal employment of spells. However, the crux of the matter lay in the potential ramifications should even a few of these abominations elude our grasp. They could easily establish new nests before we had a chance to intercept them, perhaps even multiple ones. To avert such a dire outcome, we required a sizable contingent capable of encircling the area, ensuring not a single fiend slipped through our grasp¡ªsuch were Fiends'' words. Ideally, we would secure the cooperation of all the knights, but even a solitary company would suffice, fulfilling the bare minimum, as Petr astutely pointed out.


    It proved fortuitous that the grand hall occupied the uppermost level of the structure, boasting a broad balcony that overlooked the eastern expanse, extending past the castle and into the sprawling lands beyond. A servant, the herald of our arrival, announced us with a practiced voice, revealing our titles and names¡ªLord Adventurer Petr, Lady Weaver Eryn Engvall, and, if my ears deceived me not, Lord... Arch... Mage? Emberus Blazeus Xandros. The servant swung open the colossal doors, granting us passage into the room.


    Within those hallowed confines, a sense of majesty enveloped us, a testament to the Adamant Knights'' storied heritage spanning over a century. An opulent carpet graced the floor, its intricate embroidery hinting at past glories. Paintings adorned the walls, depicting scenes from the order''s illustrious history. From the lofty ceiling, a resplendent chandelier cast its ethereal glow, while flags emblazoned with the order''s crest fluttered proudly.


    At the far end of the hall, upon an ornate chair, sat an aged knight¡ªCaptain Armand Stevenson, I presumed. Despite being informed of his ailing health, he had found the strength to join this gathering. To his right stood a young knight unfamiliar to me, while on his left, accompanied by another unfamiliar knight, stood Gilbert, ever the loyal squire. The knight flanking Gilbert was none other than the commander of the third company, while the commander of the fourth company was conspicuously absent, his absence attributed to an ongoing patrol duty.


    The knight positioned opposite the captain, a youthful figure, happened to be none other than Albert Stevenson, the captain''s son and commander of the esteemed first company. With his attractive countenance, slender frame, and delicate blond locks, he presented a striking contrast to Gilbert''s rugged visage.


    Apart from the trio encircled around Captain Stevenson, an assemblage of five high-ranking knights comprised his advisory council, while several other knights stood in attentive formation. Among the latter group, I discerned the presence of Leoria.


    "I am Armand Stevenson, captain of the Adamant Knights," the venerable leader introduced himself. "Adventurers and Archmage Xandros, I express my gratitude for your invaluable contributions in enlightening us."


    A pallor of illness tinged Captain Stevenson''s face, contrasting with the dusky complexion beneath his snowy hair and beard. Yet, his voice resonated with strength and determination, and his seated posture and piercing gaze betrayed no signs of weakness. His eyes possessed a gleam that outshone the luster of his silver armor¡ªa radiance earned only through the crucible of countless battles.


    "I merely fulfilled my duty, Captain," Petr replied, offering a modest bow. Though his display of reverence was subtle, it was evident that he held the captain in higher esteem than any other knight.


    "The honor is ours," Eryn added gracefully, executing an elegant bow.


    "There is no need for gratitude. Fiends pose an equal threat to us all. I approach you with the assumption that the Adamant Knights shall address this menace with due diligence," I interjected, punctuating my words with a brief nod.


    Under normal circumstances, I would have preferred to display utmost respect to Captain Stevenson. However, both Petr and Eryn had warned me that if I failed to present myself as an equal, I risked incurring the disdain of the other knights. Yet, truthfully, assuming such a demeanor proved taxing for me. Throughout my existence, I had remained naught more than a desk-bound clerk, while he, the captain, had weathered the crucible of countless years, commanding men and knights. Sweat moistened my palms as I gripped my Staff, a tangible manifestation of my unease.


    "Now, let us hear the particulars from Petr, an adventurer hailing from the Vandaris City Adventurers'' Guild," Edward intoned in a composed, formal manner.


    As Petr embarked upon his explanation, we approached the precipice of phase two in our carefully orchestrated presentation. Would the proceedings unfold according to plan? Uncertainty plagued my thoughts. Instead of succumbing to worry, I surreptitiously scrutinized each member of the council, endeavoring to glean any morsel of insight from their countenances.


    "We were en route to the fortress, intent on rescuing Leo''s daughter, when we chanced upon Lord Xandros, the eminent sorcerer. He had already safeguarded the girl, apprehended the enemy weaver, and petrified him..." Petr''s narrative unfolded.


    Throughout his discourse, I scanned the room, observing the reactions of those assembled. The strategist Edward seemed to deliberately evade my gaze, while Linden and Gilbert bore stiff expressions. The other members of the council¡ªthe heads of finance, intelligence, internal affairs, and the chief secretary¡ªtrained their eyes in my direction, their faces betraying a mixture of anxious suspicion.


    Remain composed, I reminded myself.


    "Finally, Lord Xandros summoned meteors from the heavens, raining destruction upon the fiends with his arcane prowess. Through his intervention, our salvation was secured."


    As Petr reached the segment concerning my utilization of magic to vanquish the fiendish horde, incredulity spread across the countenances of the assembled knights. Even Edward and the Adamant siblings¡ªknights who had previously witnessed my sorcery¡ªbetrayed clear disbelief. Only the venerable captain remained unmoved. Albert, however, exhibited less doubt and more fear, his complexion draining of color.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "With that decisive strike, we obliterated the fiendish horde, thus averting any potential harm to Maridal Village. However, our task remains unfinished. The very existence of such a formidable force implies the presence of a nearby nest, spawning these fiends. If we thoroughly search the valley, we should locate it, but time is of the essence," Petr conveyed seamlessly, transitioning from his report''s conclusion to a poignant warning, a call to action.


    "Thank you, Petr," acknowledged the aged captain. "Does anyone here wish to share their insights on this matter?"


    A weighty silence draped the room like a suffocating shroud.


    "We find ourselves confronted with a grave situation," one of the knights spoke up, his voice deep and resonant, shattering the oppressive stillness. "Firstly, I propose dispatching a reconnaissance team to assess the situation."


    This knight, whom I would later discover was named Orion, commanded the third company. Possessing a muscular physique and a stern countenance framed by short hair, he clearly had climbed the ranks through his own merits, in contrast to those who had enjoyed the privileges of their lineage.


    "A reconnaissance team? Certainly a prudent course of action. But what shall we do if a nest truly exists?" Edward interjected, his tone measured. A ripple of murmurs surged among the lower-ranked knights standing at attention.


    "If there is indeed a nest, we shall crush it without mercy!" bellowed Gilbert, flecks of spittle propelled from his mouth.


    "Exactly," Orion affirmed with a nod.


    "Establishing a reconnaissance team is certainly feasible, but should we confront the need to eradicate a nest..." Albert addressed the treasurer, a middle-aged man slightly portly in build, known as Sir Isreal.


    "If we embark upon this specialized operation, we must allocate supplementary funds for the knights and other troops: provisions, medical supplies, bedding, weapon and armor maintenance, fuel, and horse feed. Additional expenses will arise in the event of casualties, requiring further medical support and compensation for the families of the fallen... and that is not all. While the operation is underway, we must bolster patrols and fortify the village''s defenses, necessitating extended work hours and overtime pay. Frankly speaking, such endeavors exceed our current budget," Sir Isreal expounded, his countenance displaying signs of emotional exhaustion. I had no reason to doubt his assessment, yet it was disheartening to witness how even in a world supposedly brimming with swords and sorcery, the lack of adequate funding remained an organization''s most potent vulnerability.


    If it truly proved problematic, I had no qualms about contributing my own resources. However, I was unsure of the opportune moment or avenue through which to extend such an offer.


    "But... do we truly possess an alternative? Can we not scrape together the necessary funds somehow?" Albert implored, his tone tinged with desperation.


    "He speaks the truth! If we, the Adamant Knights, fail to combat these fiends due to financial constraints, our presence becomes utterly meaningless," Gilbert exclaimed.


    Even Orion silently affirmed their sentiments, while the lower-ranking members observed the debate with trepidation.


    "Are we even certain that fiends have truly emerged? I have received no such reports from my subordinates," another officer interjected, their voice raspy.


    The speaker proved to be a diminutive, elderly woman with a piercing gaze, standing out amidst the other officers. She held the position of head of intelligence.


    "The appearance of the fiends is an indisputable reality, Lady Irinia," Petr retorted sharply. "Did my report leave any room for doubt?"


    "Are you of sound mind, Petr? Or has a wayward mushroom infected your brain with these delusions?!" a skeptical officer exclaimed.


    "I must confess," added Sir Lorenzo, head of internal affairs, "I find it exceedingly difficult to believe that a mere magic user¡ªthis so-called Archmage¡ªcould singlehandedly annihilate an entire legion."


    Here it comes, I anticipated. A logical conclusion, indeed. In this world, the feats I am capable of defy all rationality.


    "No matter how potent weavers may be, it is inconceivable that one could dispatch a dreadbeast with a single blow. Utter madness..."


    "I knew their tale sounded too fantastical to be true..."


    Among the lower ranks, murmurs echoed with similar sentiments. It was time for me to make my move.


    "Fascinating," I remarked, taking a deliberate step forward. "Are you implying that I am a charlatan?"


    Good. The lines flowed smoothly from my lips, unimpeded by stumbling or hesitation. Everything had unfolded according to our expectations thus far. Now, it was time for the second part of our presentation: a demonstration of my magical abilities.


    "O-of course not, Lord Xandros! No one is suggesting such a thing!" Edward hurriedly interjected, his face draining of color as he attempted to placate me.


    I paid him no heed.


    "I do not fault you for struggling to comprehend the art, for the workings of my magic are foreign to the realm of Dravus. Therefore, I offer you this opportunity! Witness the power of my spells!"


    An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment washed over me. As a youth, when I first delved into tabletop roleplaying games, grandiose in-character performances were not the norm as they are now. Needless to say, in my adult years, I did not readily resort to declaiming my lines.


    Albert, the officers, and the majority of the knights fixated their gaze upon me, their expressions fraught with unease. If any of them had dared to smirk or crack a smile, my confidence might have shattered, leaving me incapable of carrying on with the charade.


    "As a result of this incantation, eight meteors shall be conjured from the celestial expanse, descending upon my adversaries," I declared, extending my Staff towards the balcony, aiming for an area within the desolate wasteland to the east of the fortress. Prior to the meeting, we had taken precautions to ensure the absence of any individuals in that vicinity.


    In my mind''s eye, I envisioned myself hurling a formidable array of dice, as I had done countless times before. Not that it truly mattered on this occasion.


    "Meteor Shower."


    The instant I completed the spell, the air filled with a piercing whistling. Gradually intensifying, it transformed into a resounding drone akin to the descent of bombs. Suddenly, eight meteors streaked across the sky beyond the balcony, hurtling towards the desolate terrain below.


    The ensuing explosion was colossal.


    The hall was engulfed in a blinding radiance, accompanied by a thunderous cacophony that reverberated through the walls and ceiling.


    "Are those flames descending from the heavens?!"


    "What is happening?!"


    "I-Inconceivable..."


    "Did you witness that cataclysmic explosion?!"


    Some individuals shrieked, others yelled, while some sought refuge by crouching and shielding their heads. Certain souls stood in a state of shock and bewilderment, and a few could only gaze in stupefied awe at the spectacle before them.


    It had worked.


    The members of the cabinet, in particular, stood rooted to the spot, their eyes widened and their mouths agape, caught in a bewildered stupor.


    "By the Lord Ruler, that''s astonishing!" Gilbert''s exclamation stood as an exception, brimming with unadulterated enthusiasm.


    Captain Stevenson, however, remained unmoved. Not a single muscle twitched upon his countenance. The same could not be said for his son, Albert, who fought to maintain an outward facade of composure.


    "To witness it firsthand, up close...truly incredible..."


    "So, this is the genuine might of magic..."


    Even Petr and Eryn, both sporting widened eyes, found themselves ensnared by the captivation that permeated the room.


    Well, I mused, Meteor Shower surpasses the power of other offensive spells they have witnessed, such as Fireball. It is understandable that they are in awe.


    "I extend my sincerest apologies for littering your training grounds with craters. Should it pose a predicament, do not hesitate to bill me for the damages."


    I felt relieved that I had previously confirmed the land was solely utilized for training purposes. Nevertheless, I pondered, I have created eight immense cavities in the earth. Hopefully, it does not prove too troublesome for them. I cast a glance toward the treasurer. The bill for damages may indeed materialize.


    "But...but how...?"


    "H-how is this even conceivable?"


    "That is no charlatan''s sleight of hand...nor is it weaving..."


    "The magic of a Mage...it is real..."


    "Just look at those colossal craters in the ground!"


    The knights continued their hushed conversations, their murmurs blending with the air. Some hastened to the balcony, seeking confirmation of the truth by examining the marks my magic had etched upon the world outside.


    Inwardly, I drew a deep breath, then exhaled, my pulse racing with a surge of excitement. But as I exhaled, I reminded myself sternly: You have not earned this power. It has been granted to you by a higher authority. Indulging in the thrill of such a display would be an act of shameful arrogance.


    "Your message has been delivered," I spoke up, breaking through the mounting clamor. Captain Stevenson''s deep and resonant voice boomed through the hall, commanding attention.


    "On behalf of us all, I offer my sincerest apologies, Lord Xandros," the captain intoned with authority. "You have demonstrated to us the magnitude of your powers."


    If the captain was shaken, he concealed it well, I noted with admiration.


    "I harbor no ill will, Captain Stevenson," I responded, projecting an air of magnanimity. "In hindsight, my reaction was unduly impetuous." I nodded in acknowledgment.


    During our exchange, our gazes locked, and I discerned the captain''s intent. He sought to restore order and stability to the hall, to anchor his order amidst the unsettling currents. It was only because I understood his unspoken purpose that I could answer him with such confidence. As the other knights beheld our composed conversation, their own restlessness gradually abated, and tranquility reclaimed the hall.


    "Now that you comprehend the credibility of the information presented by the esteemed Archmage Lord Emberus Blazeus Xandros," Petr spoke, seizing the opportune moment, "let us return to the pressing matter at hand."


    The knights nodded, their movements measured, as if emerging from a spell-induced trance.


    "In that case," I declared, my voice resolute, "I have full confidence in the capability of the Adamant knights to address the fiendish threat. However, should you require my aid, I offer it willingly."


    "Your aid shall surpass the strength of a million armies combined," Captain Stevenson proclaimed, his voice resonating with conviction. "Henceforth, Archmage Lord Emberus Blazeus Xandros, you are the most formidable ally of our order."


    "Rejoice, esteemed members of the order, for the illustrious mage stands with us!" Albert interjected, his timing impeccable. Drawing his sword and raising it high, he pointed it towards the heavens. "Victory to Adamant! Death to the fiends!"


    "Victory to Adamant!"


    "Death to the fiends!"


    The other knights echoed the rallying cry in perfect unison, their voices blending into a harmonious chorus. I couldn''t help but acknowledge Albert''s potential as a charismatic leader. He possessed the qualities that could inspire others. It appeared that Gilbert, too, recognized this, for although he seemed slightly irked by missing the opportunity to initiate the chant, he joined in without delay, following Albert''s lead.


    However, I was well aware that potential alone amounted to little. I knew, without a doubt, that Captain Stevenson, Albert''s father, had subtly pinched the back of his hand to goad him into the charismatic gesture. It was a reminder that Albert''s charisma was being nurtured, guided by those around him.

 Alliance Considerations

    Our presentation had proven successful, an achievement celebrated with fervor and satisfaction. The resolute Adamant Knights, displaying unwavering determination, pledged their entire force to the formidable task of locating and obliterating the fiend''s nest. The once-concerned murmurs regarding budgetary constraints were swiftly silenced, drowned out by the impassioned desire of the knights to engage in battle.


    In the wake of this resolute decision, the knights wasted no time in commencing the meticulous planning of the operation. By day''s end, only a scant few particulars remained undecided, testament to their remarkable efficiency. It was during this flurry of activity that Petr, the stalwart ally by my side, received a formal entreaty from the order, inviting his participation in the impending endeavor. Eryn, representing the Vandaris Weavers'' Guild, also acquiesced to join our ranks.


    "Not that it presents a quandary, but they have officially bestowed upon you the designation of ''ally,''" Petr remarked privately to me, his voice laced with astute observation once the day''s demanding meetings had concluded.


    "Ah..." My initial response was one of slight surprise, for I had not accorded much thought to the matter. Petr, however, was perceptive, highlighting the implications of our newfound alliance. As allies, mutual assistance, and support would be expected. While I had successfully garnered aid and backing from the formidable Adamant Knights, I now bore the weight of responsibility to reciprocate that support. If Armand, the shrewd captain of the order, had meticulously orchestrated these arrangements before approaching me, then his acumen was undoubtedly deserving of his esteemed position, I mused.


    "Exercise caution, my friend, lest you amass an abundance of alliances, rendering yourself ineffectual," Eryn interjected, her words laced with a touch of playful derision.


    Indeed, a prudent admonition to heed...


    "Ugh," I grumbled under my breath, cherishing a few fleeting moments of respite. Nevertheless, duty beckoned, compelling me to depart from the opulent chamber I had been temporarily assigned and venture forth into the vibrant expanse of the courtyard.


    I was fatigued, my weariness seeping into my bones, but when Albert summoned me, I knew I could not deny his request.


    "I offer my apologies for summoning you at such a late hour, Lord Archmage," Albert began, clad in a suit of resplendent armor. His contingent of knights, twenty in number, stood with unwavering resolve behind him.


    "I do not mind, but pray to tell, what is the purpose of this summons?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued.


    "I wished to beseech your aid in our training," Albert explained.


    "Our training?" I echoed, perplexed.


    "I have heard whispers that you possess the ability to conjure creatures akin to friends..." His words,'' led off, leaving a glimmer of hope in his eyes.


    Ah, he must be referring to Create Monster, a spell I had not directly disclosed to them. Lana must have divulged the information to Petr, who then relayed it to Albert.


    Nonetheless, this presented an opportunity for me to gauge the proficiency of the knights and gain a rudimentary understanding o,f the power dynamics within Dravus. From my studies of historical records, I knew that the order possessed considerable expertise in combatting undead and fiends. But how would they fare against six ogres?


    "Truth be told, I have yet to face a genuine fiend myself," Albert continued, his voice tinged with sincerity. "The same holds for half of the knights within our order. I have assembled a substantial contingent under my command, hoping that you might grant us an experience akin to the forthcoming battle against the daemons. In doing so, we aim to augment our preparedness."


    Albert''s request was far more calculated and thoughtful than I had initially surmised. It was easy to warm to him, for his earnestness was undeniably endearing. The gleam in his eyes, so pure and radiant, seemed out of place in a world jaded by cynicism, such as my own.


    "I cannot, in good conscience, accept payment for such a simple request," I firmly replied, attempting to dissuade Albert as he bowed his head and produced a leather bag overflowing with gold coins. With great reverence, he presented the bag before me, a testament to his gratitude.


    "No, no... You need not do this. I could not possibly accept anything in return for fulfilling such a modest task. Utilize that money for the betterment of your order," I insisted, my voice carrying the weight of sincerity.


    "Th-thank you!" Albert stammered, his head bowing once more. His entire company of knights mirrored his gesture. The visible relief etched upon Albert''s countenance was palpable.


    I have already gleaned from Isreal how dire your financial situation is. Please, do not be hasty in spending that...


    "As a consequence of this spell, a platoon of six ogres shall materialize ex nihilo, obeying my every command for three days. Create Ogre Platoon," I intoned.


    "Grrr!!!"


    "Whoa..."


    "He truly summoned fiends..."


    "But their hue is unlike any we have seen before."


    "He possesses such capabilities?"


    Whispers rippled through the ranks of Albert''s retinue, their expressions a mixture of awe and trepidation. Even Albert''s complexion paled in response to the sight before him.


    My incantation materialized six hulking ogres with crimson skin within the confines of the courtyard. As this was purely for training purposes, I had refrained from equipping the ogres with any weaponry. However, the unyielding strength of their rock-hard fists alone could effortlessly extinguish human life. Based on my observations of both species, ogres could be roughly likened to the second classification of fiends¡ªthe Netherhulk.


    Unquestionably, there were discernible disparities between the blood-red skin of a Netherhulk and the brownish-red hue adorning the ogres. Furthermore, the ogres lacked the seething malice characteristic of fiends. While a few knights in Albert''s company astutely pointed out these discrepancies, the majority seemed to be overreacting, their unease overshadowing reason.


    "W-well then," Albert stammered, attempting to regain control of the situation. "I believe it would be prudent for us to divide into two groups." He turned towards me, seeking guidance. "May we proceed with dispatching them?"


    "Indeed," I affirmed. "By all means, proceed."


    "Wait! Wait just a damned minute!" A voice boomed through the courtyard. It was Gilbert, leaping and bellowing, accompanied by Linden and the rest of his contingent.


    "Al! What is Preservation''s name are you attempting to accomplish, trying to one-up me?!" Gilbert roared, his voice filled with belligerence.


    "P-please, Gilbert, let us maintain composure," Albert implored, his voice tinged with strain.


    "Brother, cease this behavior! Your actions are discourteous!" Linden interjected, hurrying to catch up.


    It was evident that Gilbert held no shred of respect for Albert, his imposing stature serving as a constant threat, despite Linden''s valiant attempts to intervene. Albert maintained a forced a smile, but both companies stared at each other, their mutual animosity palpable. Yet, as I surveyed the reactions of those gathered in the courtyard, it became apparent that Gilbert''s side found little support outside the ranks of his knights.


    "Lord Archmage! Allow me the honor of facing those abominations first! I deserve the initial strike!" Gilbert boisterously proclaimed.


    "B-but... I asked first..." Albert meekly protested.


    Gilbert''s presence was an annoyance to Albert (to expect otherwise would be unreasonable), and it didn''t help that Albert, in general, seemed to possess a docile temperament. Nevertheless, his reluctance to yield immediately served as evidence that he was not entirely cowed by Gilbert''s domineering nature.


    "Gilbert," I called out, capturing his attention.


    "Yes, Lord Archmage," he responded, his voice laced with deference.


    In my days back in America, individuals like Gilbert were not ones I particularly relished dealing with. And had I been burdened with a subordinate such as Albert, I likely would have found him equally irksome. However, with a change in status comes a shift in perspective. As I regarded these spirited yet immature youngsters before me, I found myself growing fond of both of them.


    "Although Albert beat you to the punch this time, there is no need for concern. Should the need arise, I can summon more ogres. Could I prevail upon you to wait until Albert has had his turn?" I proposed, my words directed at Gilbert.


    "F...fine," Gilbert grumbled, his resistance subdued.


    "I offer my deepest apologies for causing you trouble, my lord! Your kindness and consideration are truly commendable!" Linden chimed in, her eyes shining with gratitude.


    Even Gilbert, who had previously been so brash, now seemed compelled to hold his tongue. He appeared caught between conflicting emotions of fear and awe. As for Linden, she regarded me as some embodiment of justice, placing unwavering trust in my actions¡ªa perception I regrettably could not live up to. I could only apologize silently for that.


    "Well then, my valiant knights. Assume your positions," I declared, eager to shift the focus away from the earlier discord. Raising my staff high, I continued, "Prepare yourselves for battle!"


    "Understood," Albert acknowledged with a firm nod.


    "Everyone! Ready yourselves for combat! Platoons one and two form a steadfast defensive line! Platoon three, prepare to flank the enemy! Platoon four, remain on standby as reserves!" Albert''s voice rang out with unexpected clarity and authority as he issued his orders. Swiftly, his contingent of twenty knights fell into formation. Ten knights formed the front line, with five clustering at the rightmost end and another five taking up positions in the rear, with Albert among them.


    "Ogres, engage the knights. However, under no circumstances are you to cause them harm," I commanded, marveling at how effortlessly the tone of my voice fell in line with the character I was playing. Not that it truly mattered, for the ogres would obey my every word, whether my delivery was convincing or not.


    "Gruooow!"Graah!"


    The ogres charged ferociously toward the knights'' steadfast defensive line.


    "Ready your shields!" Albert''s commanding voice rang out, prompting the front line to swiftly raise their shields, each adorned with the emblem of the order. With unison precision, every shield was elevated to eye level, forming an imposing barrier. Albert''s knights exhibited remarkable discipline, acting as a synchronized machine that appeared to be an impenetrable wall of iron... or so it seemed.


    "Grrooo!"


    With the very first swing of the ogres'' massive fists, the knights'' formidable formation wavered. Though no one was sent hurtling backward, several stumbled and had to retreat. The line began to lose its cohesion.


    "Don''t yield!" shouted a knight from the center, his voice filled with determination. "Hold your ground!"


    "Grroow! Graah!"


    Yet, under the relentless force of the ogres'' assaults, the line appeared on the verge of collapse. It teetered precariously as if a single blow would shatter its resolve.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Albert parted his lips, seemingly poised to issue another command. However, he appeared momentarily at a loss, the words eluding him.


    "Grraah!!!"


    Yet the ogres would not wait. A few fleeting seconds passed, and the first knight was sent hurtling through the air, followed swiftly by the second and third. None could withstand the relentless barrage, and those who managed to remain on their feet were driven to their knees under the unyielding onslaught.


    "Platoon four, advance! Platoon three, flank them now!" Albert''s voice regained its strength, despite the ongoing struggle. Though the knights were outmatched, he refused to surrender.


    "Gyah!!!"Uwah?!"


    However, the ogres'' immense strength proved too overwhelming for the knights to withstand. Even as the fourth platoon rushed to fill the gaps in the front line, new breaches emerged in the wall of defenders.


    "Take that!"Graahhh!"


    The flanking platoon launched a coordinated assault, driving their swords into the ogres'' sides and backs. Finally, they managed to inflict some damage, but their triumph was short-lived as the enraged monsters retaliated with devastating punches.


    "Regroup! Form a circle! Victory to Adamant!" Albert''s resolute cry rallied the remaining able knights as they formed a defensive ring facing outward.


    "Oh, look at them go," I remarked, genuinely impressed by their tenacity.


    "Al! Don''t you give up! Aim for the eyes!" Linden''s spirited encouragement filled the air.


    "What the hell is he doing? If it were me..." Gilbert''s grumbling betrayed his lack of support for Albert.


    Even so, Gilbert''s reaction was a marked improvement compared to the frozen, silent onlookers who surrounded us.


    Well, I can''t entirely blame them. After all, these ogres are merely substitutes for netherhulks ... I pondered, but then a more pressing concern gripped my mind. What will happen when they face the real thing?


    "That''s enough!" I bellowed, my voice cutting through the chaos.


    Albert fought valiantly, narrowly evading the ogres'' thunderous fists. However, one powerful blow sent his sword flying from his grasp. Just as the ogre''s fist was about to connect with Albert''s head, I commanded the creatures to halt.


    The obedient ogres froze in place, their massive forms looming over the battlefield. Albert, though visibly shaken, quickly regained his composure.


    "Everyone, you fought with valor!" he declared, his voice resolute. "Rest for the remainder of the day. We shall revise our strategies before the operation begins. Remember, this is but a training exercise. Your strength and bravery will be tested in the real battle to come!"


    I marveled at Albert''s swift recovery and his unwavering dedication to his company. He moved among the fallen knights, offering them assistance to their feet. Despite the weight of disappointment etched on his face, he understood the importance of projecting strength as their leader.


    "F-forgive us for our shortcomings..."Next time, we will prevail..."


    As the individual knights wrestled with their shame and despair, their unwavering respect for Albert bound them together.


    "I can''t believe you all!" Gilbert spat, his words dripping with disdain. "I''ll show you how it''s done!"


    Gilbert, as tactless as ever, drew a barrage of icy glares from his comrades. They say Gilbert and Albert are both contenders for the position of captain, but is it truly a contest? In terms of popularity, there is no doubt that Albert holds the favor of their comrades.


    "Take that! And that! Now how about this?!" Gilbert''s company displayed a fighting style that stood in stark contrast to Albert''s disciplined approach. Without waiting for commands, Gilbert charged forward, leaving his knights to fend for themselves.


    Gilbert''s confidence was not misplaced. He fought with remarkable skill, parrying the ogres'' strikes with his shield and swiftly counterattacking, targeting their vulnerabilities with precise swordplay. Despite his hulking stature, his movements were surprisingly agile, a testament to calculated maneuvers rather than mere reflexes.


    "Hiya! Yah!" Leoria, on the other hand, danced around Gilbert in a whirlwind of motion. She moved so swiftly that her armor seemed weightless, confounding the ogres with deceptive feints and capitalizing on the resulting openings to strike at their legs.


    A wave of cheers erupted from the onlookers. One of the ogres, assailed by Linden''s assault, crumpled to its knees. Witnessing the knights'' extraordinary performances, it became increasingly difficult to believe they were mere mortals. If matched against an ogre in a one-on-one duel, it would be a formidable challenge to determine who possessed the greater strength.


    This is the true nature of Sedia, I mused. In this fantastical realm, individuals with diverse aptitudes and experiences displayed an astonishing array of skills and abilities, prompting me to question their very humanity. It was a world of swords and sorcery, a world of heroes.


    "Good going, Lin! Hrrngh?!"Hey! Let me go!!!"


    However, regrettably, these two heroes had reached their limits.


    Gilbert, struck from behind by an ogre''s kick, was sent sprawling amidst the sand. Meanwhile, Linden, panting heavily, found herself ensnared by another ogre, her sword slipping from her grasp. The rest of the second company had already succumbed to defeat.


    "Stop! That''s enough!" I interjected urgently, commanding the ogres to halt their assault.


    "Damn it!" Gilbert cursed, his form adorned with a coat of sand. "Give me one more chance, Lord Xandros."


    "You... you brute! Release me!" Linden''s voice brimmed with defiance as she continued to struggle, launching punches at the ogre that held her arm.


    Both of them impressed me, albeit in different ways than Albert had. However...


    "What are you doing, dampening morale before the operation even commences?!" Eryn''s incredulous voice reached my ears. Unbeknownst to me, she had arrived to witness the spectacle.


    Couldn''t you have spun it more positively? I inwardly protested, though now, at least, I possessed a clearer understanding of their capabilities. As an ally, it was my responsibility to be aware of such matters. I nodded, seeking to persuade myself that this was not an utter catastrophe.


    Later, within the confines of the guest room...


    "No, I agree. It was entirely your fault," Petr sided with Eryn.


    "I can''t believe you disgraced Albert in front of all those people," Eryn charged.


    "But you told me that combating friends was the primary objective of this order, so I thought¡ª"


    Petr''s fist clenched, his frustration evident. "If you aimed to recreate real combat, you should have pitted twenty against two, not six!"


    I pondered his words. Ah, so that''s the power dynamic between humans and fiends in Dravus. Taking into account his statement and my observations, I estimated the equivalent strength of an average knight in T&T terms to be around Level 3, give or take.


    "If you were to pit six knights against twenty curselings," Petr continued, "the knights would likely emerge victorious. However, that is not the way things are done. Fiend extermination requires a united force, not the strength of a few heroic individuals! Hunting fiends demands the coordination of a full-scale army, not the prowess of a handful of exceptional warriors."


    Indeed, the two companies deployed for the present threat consisted of over four hundred knights combined.


    "I... I understand," I said, rubbing my temples. "But while we''re on the subject, how would you describe the average strength of adventurers like yourselves? Is your party stronger than most?"


    "Our strength..." Petr paused, a troubled expression crossing his face. "If we factor in Eryn''s abilities, we are likely one of the strongest groups in all of Vindaris. However, without her, we would be considered average."


    "I can use high-level weaving, after all," Eryn chimed in proudly, puffing out her chest.


    So, weavers do hold a significant role in the power dynamics of Dravus. It didn''t come as a surprise.


    "However," Petr continued, "there aren''t many adventuring parties capable of taking down a Netherhulk. I would estimate only three, including ours, possess the capability."


    Among all known fiends, considering their combat prowess and rarity, netherhulks stood atop the hierarchy as the most formidable. While curselings were commonplace, individually, they posed no overwhelming threat to an ordinary soldier. In other words, a swarm of curselings could be managed as long as the numerical advantage was maintained. Of course, by "managed," I meant just that. Having numerical superiority did not guarantee to avoid significant casualties, particularly with the wrong stroke of luck.


    However, even if a swarm of curselings included just a single netherhulk, the casualties would soar. Petr explained that it took a group of twenty heavily armed soldiers to bring down a single netherhulk, and even then, if luck was not on their side, the entire team could be wiped out.


    "However," Petr insisted, "it is crucial to understand that an adventurer''s value extends far beyond their prowess in combat alone."


    Unlike an army, an adventuring party could specialize in various roles, including tracking, defense, and battle. It would be an oversight to focus solely on their combat strength. Petr''s point was valid, without a doubt.


    However, it did not change the undeniable truth that humans in Dravus faced a significant disadvantage when confronting fiends.


    "What about what some might call heroes?" I inquired.


    "If you''re referring to heroes involved in fiend extermination, there''s a warrior by the name of Ludwin the Fiend Destroyer," Petr replied. "He could likely take down five or six netherhulks, perhaps even a Dreadbeast, single-handedly."


    "Among weavers," Eryn interjected, "the Vindari Guild''s first seat, Paul, is capable of facing a Dreadbeast alone. It''s rumored that he can wield one of the highest-ranked weavings, Glacies Tempestas."


    "In addition to them, the strongest party in Dravus is led by a weaver known as ''Perdition'' Cillian. Someone like him could probably engage multiple Dreadbeasts simultaneously."


    "However, since they are based in the capital, we cannot rely on their assistance this time," Eryn informed us.


    Fiend Destroyer, the esteemed first seat of the Weavers'' Guild, and Perdition, I pondered silently. If this were a role-playing game and they were non-player characters, I might expect to encounter them later in the campaign...


    I paused, shook my head vigorously, and banished that foolish notion. These were real individuals, not characters in a game.


    "Well, you seem eager to join the ranks of our heroes," Petr teased. "Ready to stand alongside them?"


    "No, that''s not what I..." I struggled to find the right words. "Practical concerns aside, I''m simply not cut out for that kind of role. There''s a vast difference between fighting and desiring to fight."


    Both Petr and Eryn shrugged indifferently at my response.


    "Damn, you! Take this!"


    "Brother, behind you!"


    From the courtyard, we could still hear the resolute cries of the Adamant siblings¡ªthey had requested overtime¡ªengaged in their training.


    "Take that!"


    "Ga-gyaah!"


    To my astonishment, after two days of unyielding practice, Linden managed to bring down an ogre largely on her own. She had the support of Gilbert and her fellow knights, and the ogres were unarmed, but her rapid improvement was nothing short of remarkable.


    "Thank you, Lord Xandros! This is all thanks to you! I''m so grateful!" Linden''s body was smeared with dirt and blood from her encounter with the ogre, yet her radiant smile made her undeniably beautiful at that moment.


    "What in damnation?"That precipice wasn''t there before!"How in the Lord Ruler''s name did a fortress materialize atop it?"


    The clamor of the knights drowned out any remnants of nostalgia as they beheld the effects of my spell on the fortress.


    Swiftly, I restored the fortress to its original position, allowing the knights to commence the unloading of supplies. With nearly five hundred souls in our ranks, it was evident that not everyone would find shelter within its walls. Therefore, the knights set about establishing camps in the fortress yard, ensuring the best possible accommodation for all.


    It should be noted that I had taken care to separate Leo''s stolen goods from the rest of the bandits'' plunder. I permitted the knights to seize the remaining spoils, knowing full well they would make use of what they could, thus alleviating the financial burden on the order. My heart ached for the treasurer, whose burdens had only grown heavier.


    "Now, let us delve into the intricacies of our operation," declared Edward, the strategist.


    Gathered within the commander''s office, the room buzzed with the presence of essential personnel and ranking officers.


    "The first company shall proceed eastward, while the second company will venture south, thus forming our defensive line. Our current plan entails maintaining this defensive posture for three days, after which the operation shall reach its culmination. However, be aware that this duration remains subject to change should the operation necessitate an extension. I must emphasize that to the west of our line lie villages, and the north lies the Lawful Way. Under no circumstances shall we allow the fiends to breach our defenses. Once our lines have been fortified, Petr, Eryn, and Lord Xandros shall lead an elite force to the valley where the fiend legion was last observed. It is there that they shall pinpoint and annihilate the fiends'' nest. Upon the destruction of this nest, the elite force shall rejoin our defensive ranks, lending their aid in eliminating any remaining fiends."


    The weight of responsibility hung heavy in the air as we absorbed Edward''s strategic directives. The fate of countless lives now rested upon our shoulders.


    The success of our endeavor hinged entirely on Petr''s exceptional tracking prowess and my arcane capabilities. During the initial discussions, when the operation was still taking shape, I had intended to offer support from the sidelines. However, upon witnessing the knights'' impressive performance during training, I vehemently insisted on assuming a more active role. Albert and Gilbert initially voiced their objections, but a simple reminder of their encounter with the ogres swiftly silenced their protests.


    Perhaps my concern bordered on overprotectiveness, but who could blame me? I felt a twinge of remorse for denting their pride and experienced a flicker of personal anxiety. Yet, I was prepared to shoulder greater responsibilities if it meant safeguarding lives.


    "Now, allow me to disclose some lesser-known facets regarding the fiends'' nest we are determined to eradicate," announced Gunther, the seasoned lieutenant commander of the first company. Having partaken in the eradication of a fiends'' nest a decade prior, he possessed invaluable insights to share.


    "A fiends'' nest distinguishes itself from the nests of other creatures and monsters. What we colloquially term a ''nest'' often assumes the guise of a crimson blood sphere, though not always. Its nature is mutable, devoid of a fixed shape or form."


    My intrigue was piqued as Gunther emphasized that a fiend''s nest transcended conventional notions of a nest.


    "The nest I confronted a decade ago resembled the bulk of a bull, and I beheld fiends oozing forth from its core, their forms still dripping and malformed."


    The more I delved into their nature, the more repugnant the daemons of Dravus appeared. They shattered the preconceived notions I had gleaned from novels and games, presenting a wholly distinct breed of monstrosity.


    "Just to clarify," I interjected, seeking confirmation. "You were able to vanquish this nest through swordplay or weaving?"


    "Indeed, Lord Mage," came the response.


    Well, if spells and physical force can bring about its demise, then I should have no difficulty obliterating it with my magic, I mused, a flicker of confidence kindling within me.


    Petr''s inquiry interrupted my musings. "You mentioned accompanying an elite team... Does this team consist solely of the three of us?"


    "Please, allow me to join you!"


    "Don''t be foolish! It is I who should accompany them!"


    "I wish to be a part of it as well!"


    Alnogia, Gilbert, and Linden were swift to voice their desire. I had anticipated this response. If only we possessed knowledge of the nest''s whereabouts, I would have petitioned to embark alone.


    The fervor exhibited by Albert and Gilbert struck me as a suspect. I couldn''t help but wonder if their eagerness stemmed from a bid to curry favor with the other knights within the order, each harboring ambitions of becoming the captain''s successor.


    "Linden aside, both of you hold commanding positions! Ponder your duties!" Gunther''s admonition reverberated, amplified by the scar adorning his face. His chastisement appeared effective, yet the protests persisted.


    "But... we cannot simply leave all the work to Lord Xandros," Albert persisted.


    "No! Do not lecture me about duty! I am an Adamant! I must be the one to slay the fiends!"


    "Cease your bickering, brethren! I, too, am an Adamant!"


    Observing their sincere countenances, my skepticism regarding ulterior motives waned. For better or worse, their drive emanated from a genuine sense of purpose rather than political machinations.


    Regardless of their underlying motivations, I mused, it would be imprudent to expose both candidates for the next captaincy to the most perilous segment of our mission. However, I kept my reservations to myself, unwilling to entangle myself in the order''s intricate politics.


    "In my estimation," Edward chimed in, "it would be prudent for Gilbert, Linden, and Gunther to accompany Lord Xandros, Petr, and Eryn to the nest. I shall assume command of the second company."


    "Ah! So you do possess some commendable ideas, strategist!" Gilbert exclaimed.


    "Thank you!" Linden chimed in.


    The Adamant siblings exuded elation while Albert clenched his lip in silence. Is he hoping to eliminate these two by sending them into danger? I sighed, exasperated. Well, at least they find solace in this arrangement, I suppose.


    "Very well. May our efforts culminate in a resounding victory."


    "Very well! Rely on me, Lord Mage! We shall fulfill our duty!"


    "I pledge this: I shall safeguard you!"


    I appreciated their enthusiasm, I thought, though if all unfolds as planned, their role may be limited indeed...

 Otherworldly Powers

    ON THE MORROW, our esteemed "elite team" found themselves standing solitary amidst a valley strewn with the smoldering remnants of daemonic creatures. It was from this very place that our journey was to commence, leading us further up the valley in search of the fabled nest.


    "We must remain vigilant, for the daemons may yet spring an ambush upon us. Be ever watchful, my comrades," cautioned Petr, his voice laced with authority.


    "Understood," came the unified response, each member of our band acknowledging the gravity of the situation.


    Petr and Gunther huddled together, their minds engaged in a discussion regarding the optimal formation for our ascent up the treacherous valley. Meanwhile, I took it upon myself to carefully select the spells that held the promise of aiding us on our perilous path, casting them with practiced precision.


    "By the invocation of this incantation, all allies within a three-meter radius of my person shall be transported beyond the bounds of the Material plane. We shall traverse the planes," I declared, the arcane words resonating with power.


    Through the sheer might of the spell, the six of us were displaced into a dimension separate from, yet parallel to, the realm of normal space. From this new vantage point, our surroundings took on a mesmerizing distortion¡ªa bluish tinge permeated our vision, and the world seemed to sway gently, akin to observing the exterior from within the confines of an ethereal aquarium. To those observing from the Material plane, we would have vanished without a trace.


    In this spectral plane, we found solace from the nefarious fiends and any other malevolent forces seeking to beset us. We were, for all intents and purposes, rendered invisible by conventional means. However, a notable drawback lay in our inability to interact or exert influence upon the Material plane while dwelling in this spectral realm. Yet, this restriction worked both ways¡ªa physical barrier could be traversed effortlessly by transitioning to the spectral plane, offering us a significant advantage. Furthermore, as long as the spell''s effects persisted, we retained the freedom to shift seamlessly between the spectral and Material planes.


    Nevertheless, the warping and discoloration served as a constant reminder of the limitations imposed upon our perception of the real world from this spectral vantage point. Sounds and scents were elusive, frustratingly distant.


    Petr, in his characteristic sardonic tone, muttered, "Seems like you possess no boundaries, huh?" Eryn, her anger palpable, surveyed the spectral plane with a stern gaze.


    Gilbert, however, stood in naked astonishment, awestruck by the spectacle unfolding before him. Gunther, his countenance drained of color, stammered, "Lord Xandros... Are you a deity in mortal guise?"


    Linden turned her eyes upward, fixing me with an inquisitive gaze. "My lord, are you not an angelic emissary of Astradia, the protector?"


    I implored Linden silently not to prostrate herself before me. "What absurdity is this? I am no deity," I protested, my voice betraying a hint of flustered panic. The notion of being revered as a god surpassed any expectation I had ever held. Though Ember''s prowess, strictly speaking, soared to heights capable of undertaking quests within T&T that might elevate one''s character to godlike status, it is crucial to remember that at my core, I remained an ordinary human being.


    "My encounters with the immortal realm are rare and infrequent. If my magic appears godlike to you, perchance your faith has veered toward excessive fervor," I retorted, my words tumbling forth in a frantic scramble. Truth be told, I struggled to grasp the meaning behind my own utterances. Fortunately, Petr and Eryn, displaying their characteristic skepticism, rolled their eyes at my expense, alleviating some of the weight that burdened me.


    Let me reiterate¡ªmy powers are far from the omnipotence associated with the divine. Although my spells possess formidable might, as a practitioner of the arcane, I am plagued by numerous vulnerabilities. One such weakness lies in the limitations imposed upon the number of spells I can prepare each day. Allow me to provide a breakdown of the ninth-level spells I had readied on that momentous day.


    NINTH LEVEL SPELLS


    Spell Name - Remaining Uses / Total ChargedMeteor Storm - 2 / 2Complete Recovery - 1 / 1Time Stop - 1 / 1Summon Monster: Any - 1 / 1Word of Death - 1 / 1Chaotic Wall - 1 / Planeshift - 0 / 1Invincibility - 0 / 1


    A magic user''s capacity to ready spells of each level expands as their proficiency grows. In my case, I could prepare nine spells per rank. However, any spell that had exhausted its uses for the day could no longer be cast. (I had cast Invincibility upon myself prior to our departure.) Naturally, I had readied an assortment of spells for ranks one through eight, each comprising nine charges, but delving into their exhaustive details shall be spared for now.


    If I possessed additional slots for charging, I would have undoubtedly allocated another to Complete Recovery. Alas, as I have mentioned on countless occasions, the constraints of a T&T mage entail a limited arsenal.


    "Well then, shall we proceed?" I urged the group onward, mindful that the effects of planeshift were not everlasting.


    Petr assumed the lead as we forged ahead, progressing further into the valley. To our surprise, the valley proved to be a labyrinthine network of twisting passages. At each junction, Petr meticulously examined our surroundings, deftly discerning the remnants left behind by the daemonic horde''s passage. Despite the dulled senses plaguing us in the spectral plane, Petr displayed an uncanny ability to detect footprints and stray hairs. I couldn''t help but be awed by his tracking prowess.


    Thanks to Petr''s expertise, we located the fiends'' stronghold a mere two hours after setting out. "There''s a Dreadbeast..." he warned.


    We stood at the valley''s deepest recess, a space roughly the size of a baseball field, encircled by towering cliffs. A colossal Dreadbeast, resembling an elephant in size, loomed nearby, standing four meters tall and stretching five meters in length. It was surrounded by a swarm of curselings.


    The curselings appeared to be feeding the Dreadbeast, offering up a boar-like creature. Fortunately, ensconced within the outer plane, our presence remained concealed from the fiends. The Dreadbeast carelessly seized the boar from the curselings and tore into its head. Behind it loomed an imposing stone door, resembling a lid sealing off the valley''s deepest recess. The space beyond that door appeared vast enough to accommodate even the Dreadbeast''s colossal frame.


    "The nest must lie beyond that door," Petr asserted.


    "Almost certainly," Gunther concurred.


    Though the door possessed a simple structure, it was adorned with unsettling symbols reminiscent of avant-garde abstract art.


    "So, the plan is to vanquish the Dreadbeast and then surge through the door, correct?" Gilbert inquired.


    "That is the plan, but I believe it would be best if I take the lead," I responded.


    "You''re right."


    Oh? I had anticipated Gilbert''s eagerness to charge ahead, yet it seemed he had already begun to display signs of growth.


    "Before we proceed any further, let us first ascertain what lies concealed behind that door," I suggested, withdrawing a scroll from my bag. Eryn examined it intently before turning to me with a perplexed expression.


    "It appears...blank, does it not?" she remarked, her confusion apparent.


    "Well, at present it is, but...just observe," I replied cryptically, placing the blank scroll upon the ground and unfurling it before our eyes.


    "Oh? I see something!" Gilbert exclaimed.


    "Could this be...a map?" Gunther questioned, his discerning eye recognizing the nature of the object in question.


    Indeed, Gunther''s astute observation was correct. The scroll served as a magical artifact known as a Dungeon Map. Ordinarily, it remained void of any markings, but once unfurled within the proximity of a dungeon, it would autonomously generate a map detailing the labyrinthine structure. In a traditional tabletop role-playing game, such a map would be sufficient for charting our progress on graph paper as we ventured forth. However, the circumstances called for a more immediate method.


    "As I suspected," Petr interjected, his voice laden with certainty. "There lies a subterranean passage beyond that door." He stood engrossed in the unfolding details of the map, gradually revealing itself through its mystical properties.


    "This nest serves as the birthplace of Dreadbeasts. By following the path wide enough to accommodate their colossal frames, we should be led directly to the heart of the nest... here," Petr declared, pointing to a corner of the map. It depicted a vast chamber nestled deep underground, precisely as he had foreseen. A broad trail extended from this chamber, ultimately connecting to the door.


    "It appears there are additional branching paths and smaller chambers," Eryn noted. "I wonder if any of them offer alternative routes..."


    "Alas, they seem narrow, too restricted even for a Netherhulk, let alone a Dreadbeast," Petr remarked sagely.


    Fortunate, I mused inwardly. If there had been numerous wide-ranging paths to consider, we would have been compelled to seal each one off diligently.


    "I propose we make our entry at this location," I declared, pointing to a spot on the map.


    Despite our ability to traverse physical barriers using the outer plane, we could not disregard the dungeon''s layout entirely. Deep within the earth, devoid of clear sightlines, it would be all too easy for us to lose one another or lose our bearings on the map. Merely passing through walls would serve no purpose if we failed to reach our intended destination.


    "To cast another spell, we must first exit the spectral plane," I explained. "While we are outside, I will require your protection."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "Very well! You can count on me, Lord Xandros!" Gilbert responded eagerly.


    "I will ensure your safety," Linden vowed.


    The Adamant siblings positioned themselves enthusiastically in front of me, while Petr and the others assumed defensive formations behind.


    "I possess a defensive incantation, Protego Scutum, capable of warding off an attack from that dreadbeast, at least temporarily," Eryn announced, her staff poised and ready. Her blue eyes shimmered with excitement, the vibrant energy within her palpable.


    Once again, I marveled at the boundless enthusiasm exhibited by both Eryn and Linden, even amidst the grim and perilous circumstances. These two women radiated such effervescence and zest for life that it was almost overwhelming for someone like me, burdened by the weight of years...


    "Well then, let us return to the material plane."


    Rather than appearing in the midst of the clearing, we materialized in the shadow of a boulder near the entrance. As we departed the spectral plane, the noxious stench of the fiend, previously blocked by the spell''s effects, assailed our senses.


    While I endured the repugnant odor, I cast the sixth-level spell.


    "By the invocation of this spell, I shall bring death upon the living within my line of sight, within an area spanning eighty-one square meters, up to a cumulative level of thirty-two. Death!"


    Silence enveloped the surroundings. Even after completing the incantation, there appeared to be no immediate change in the Dreadbeast or the curselings surrounding it. The Dreadbeast retained its firm grip on the boar it had been devouring. I sensed the nervous tension permeating through the ranks of the knights, but I could also perceive the arcane energy unfurling within the world, the essence of death itself, enveloping the Dreadbeast and the curselings in its frigid embrace.


    A second passed.


    Then, a transformation began.


    "Gi...?"


    The Dreadbeast''s body went limp. It released its hold on the boar, and with its tongue lolling from its mouth, the Dreadbeast collapsed to the ground. It seemed as though everything was transpiring in slow motion. Upon closer inspection, several curselings had also fallen.


    "Gweh?!"


    "Gyaahh!"


    "Grrr! Gyu!"


    The lifeless Dreadbeast lay motionless on the ground, devoid of any signs of movement. Death was a spell capable of extinguishing any number of monsters within a designated area, up to a cumulative level. As per the rules of the T&T game system, all targets had a chance to make a saving throw¡ªif successful, the spell would have no effect whatsoever. I had concerns about this technicality potentially posing a problem, but it appeared the spell had functioned flawlessly.


    "Did... Did it perish?" a voice quivered.


    "All you did was stare at it..." another remarked.


    While the exact sequence of events wasn''t accurately described, correcting anyone''s perception of the situation was a matter for another time. The surviving curselings, very much alive and aware, had detected our presence.


    "Gigyah! Gaah!"


    "Gyaar!!!"


    Armed with primitive axes and spears, the curselings charged forth, their icy hatred sending a shiver down my spine. Their eyes gleamed with malevolence, radiating a gruesome malice. As I initiated the casting of my next spell, the sound of Petr''s released arrow reached my ears.


    "Gyah?!"


    The curseling leading the charge stumbled backward, pierced by an arrow through its chest.


    "Ignis Sagitta!" Eryn chanted.


    From her staff, she unleashed ten fiery arrows, engulfing the imps in a blaze one after another. As I witnessed their bodies succumb to the flames, memories of the first time I witnessed Karyon employing his ice arrows flooded my mind. Weaver magic excelled in its swift execution, as its incantations demanded minimal time to complete. Should a mage find themselves facing a weaver without the luxury of preparation, victory would be nigh impossible.


    "Very well," Gilbert bellowed. "Come at me!"


    "I shall not allow you to lay a finger upon Lord Xandros!" Linden proclaimed.


    The Adamant siblings and Gunther took up their shields, forming a defensive line before me. However, before the curselings could reach them, I completed the incantation of my spell.


    "By the invocation of this spell, I shall bring under my dominion the deceased in my vicinity, raising them as zombies, up to a cumulative level of thirty-six. Control Undead."


    I believe you can visualize the scene: Control Undead, the epitome of necromantic arts. A false semblance of life infused the Dreadbeast and several fallen curselings, resurrecting them as obedient zombies.


    "Grooo..."


    As Death leaves no visible wounds upon its targets, the undead Dreadbeast and curselings appeared no different from before. However, as the Dreadbeast swung its colossal limbs, it focused its assault upon the living curselings rather than us.


    "Gyah! Gu-gyah!"


    "Groooo!"


    The zombified Dreadbeast and curselings clashed with the surviving curselings in a scene evocative of the depths of hell. Evidently, their insatiable desire to slay humans superseded any concern for self-preservation or the erratic undead. The living curselings paid no heed to the onslaught of my risen minions, relentlessly charging towards us. Yet, the Dreadbeast sent most of them flying, while Petr picked off the few that managed to slip past our formidable undead guard with his well-aimed arrows.


    "This is madness. It''s akin to a nightmare," Gilbert muttered.


    His sentiment resonated with me deeply.


    Within a span of mere minutes, all the sane fiends (if any fiends could be deemed sane) met their demise. The zombified curselings had fallen in the process, but the Dreadbeast zombie persisted, its strength unyielding. With the guards eliminated, the time had come for us to seize the opportunity and charge forth.


    "By the invocation of this spell, one target shall be reduced to naught. Disintegrate!"


    "What now?!" someone exclaimed.


    "The gate!" another responded.


    The colossal stone door crumbled into dust.


    Disintegrate, a spell capable of dismantling both organic and inorganic matter at the molecular level, had performed its duty. Once the debris settled, a cavernous opening lay revealed before us, its depths shrouded in darkness.


    With Planeshift at our disposal, gaining entry posed no challenge. However, now that we possessed a dreadbeast zombie, I yearned to make effective use of it.


    "Go. Slay all the fiends within," I commanded.


    "Guuu."


    Obediently, the dreadbeast zombie lumbered its way into the cave, trudging over the remnants of the gate. The knights watched in astonishment, their mouths agape.


    Wait a minute.


    Couldn''t I have instructed our zombie to open the gate instead of obliterating it?


    "Errm... Eherm," I cleared my throat, aware of Petr and Eryn''s scrutinizing gazes piercing through me. The sting of their scrutiny was undeniable.


    "Well then, shall we proceed?" I forged ahead, hoping my words conveyed a confidence I did not entirely possess.


    "Wait a minute¡ªXandros!" Eryn interjected.


    So, my pitiful attempt at deception fails to deceive seasoned adventurers, I mused inwardly, as Eryn caught hold of my robe just as I was about to depart.


    "I thought it wiser to leave the door intact," Petr remarked, a hint of a sarcastic smile adorning his face. "Couldn''t we have simply passed through the door using the spectral plane? Or am I overlooking something?"


    "No... you''re absolutely correct," I acknowledged.


    The echoes of the dreadbeast zombie''s rampage below reached our ears. However, with the door obliterated, the likelihood of a netherhulk or another dreadbeast escaping increased significantly.


    "I apologize," I turned to address the group. "My lapse in judgment led to this oversight. I allowed myself to become carried away."


    "Petr, what are you doing?" Gilbert hissed, casting a nervous glance towards me.


    "L-Lord Xandros..." Linden''s voice quivered with unease.


    Are they afraid I''m furious? I pondered. Petr''s point held utmost validity. I had undeniably made a mistake. There was no reason for me to be angry.


    "You have no need to apologize," Petr assured me.


    "More importantly, what shall we do about that opening?" Eryn interjected. "I could employ my weaving to collapse the ceiling and seal it off, but..."


    Petr and Eryn swiftly shifted their attention, seeking a resolution. While Eryn possessed the capability to accomplish the task through her weaving, it would undoubtedly deplete a significant portion of her mana reserves.


    "I shall handle the sealing," I declared.


    The earth trembled, accompanied by a resounding rumble. A gray wall emerged from the ground, erecting itself to block the entrance. This stone barrier, aptly named the Wall of Stone, formed an almost impenetrable seal over the cave''s access point. Though not entirely impervious to air or water, the wall stood as a formidable obstacle, effectively preventing any fiends from breaking free¡ªso long as it endured. Naturally, our passage through the wall posed no hindrance with Planeshift at our disposal.


    "You truly possess an astonishing array of magical abilities," Petr remarked. "However, it is not without its concerns..."


    "He''s right, Xandros," Eryn interjected. "We rely on you to dismantle the daemons'' nest. It wouldn''t be wise to squander your magical resources when we have alternative options."


    While I appreciated the concern expressed by Petr and Eryn, the magic system I employed operated on a different premise than conventional mana reserves. "I still possess an abundance of spells at my disposal. Utilizing a few in this manner will not hinder our ability to annihilate the nest when the time comes," I assured them.


    "If you say so, I shall not doubt you," Petr conceded.


    "Personally, it''s difficult for me to fathom," Eryn confessed. "Regardless, even if that is indeed the case, please refrain from wasting your magic needlessly."


    With the issue of the open cave entrance resolved, we transitioned back into the spectral plane, traversed the stone wall, and continued our descent along the subterranean path.


    Under normal circumstances, the surroundings would be cloaked in impenetrable darkness. However, existing within the outer plane granted us the advantage of perceiving the cave''s interior bathed in a soft, ethereal blue glow. Nevertheless, to enhance our visibility, I cast the Light spell upon my Staff.


    "The dreadbeast is still locked in combat!" Gilbert exclaimed.


    Beneath the earth''s surface, the zombified dreadbeast clashed with several other fiends, locked in the throes of a deadly struggle. Netherhulks leaped onto the dreadbeast''s back, thrusting their blades into its lifeless flesh, while countless curselings swarmed at its feet.


    "Grooo!"


    "Gyaaw!"


    The dreadbeast zombie reached upward, grasping a netherhulk that clung to the back of its neck. With a powerful fling, it slammed the netherhulk against the wall, resulting in a gruesome explosion of blood and viscera. New netherhulks promptly replaced the fallen, resuming their relentless assault with swords and clubs.


    "Grrrooo..."


    Dreadbeasts were not known for their agility, and its state of zombification further hampered its movements. While the curselings posed little threat, the repeated onslaught from the netherhulks undeniably began to take its toll. Although it would have been convenient for the dreadbeast to eradicate all the fiends on our behalf, the world rarely presents such effortless solutions.


    The very creature the fiends had intended to utilize as the centerpiece of their forthcoming attack now hurtled towards them. The gate leading to their lair had been shattered, replaced by an imposing stone barrier. Even the fiends, regardless of their relentless determination, found themselves thrown into disarray¡ªnetherhulks and curselings alike. As we passed by, we observed them closely, yet remained safely out of their reach within the spectral plane.


    "So... it appears the fiends possess a certain degree of culture," Eryn whispered.


    As we ventured through the fiends'' stronghold, we encountered peculiar paintings adorning the walls. To me, they appeared as nothing more than colorful swirls, though one could argue their classification as art. There were also objects scattered across the ground resembling board games.


    "Well... if one could deem it as such," Petr remarked, gesturing towards a spot where the game pieces were crafted¡ªright alongside a pile of human remains.


    Someone gagged. Gilbert cursed, and Gunther invoked the name of the creator-god Rivonus, offering a prayer for the departed souls.


    This would not be the last encounter with the fiends'' artwork and playthings. Among the various "source materials" for these items, an unsettling realization dawned upon me¡ªthe remnants of Karyon''s bandit group had met such a twisted fate.


    It occurred to me that one of the reasons the bandits had suddenly grown more aggressive in extorting those who passed through their territory might have been their realization of the gathering fiends. Perhaps they intended to seize as much as possible before making their escape.


    My own revulsion threatened to overpower me, the palpable knot of the fiends'' cold hatred coiling within my stomach. I fought against the urge to vomit. Despite inheriting the Strength and Constitution of my T&T character, none of it served to fortify my spirit. Any mental or spiritual resilience I may have possessed had likely withered over the course of my comfortable existence.


    "You damned fiends," Gilbert muttered through gritted teeth. "You will regret underestimating us humans. I will ensure you pay the price."


    His voice carried a burning anger, and the fervor of his words thawed my frozen soul. I could not allow my spirit to fracture, not here.


    "We take a right turn here," Petr suddenly announced.


    "Thank you," I nearly breathed. "I almost missed that."


    Although we followed the widest path from the entrance towards the depths of the fiends'' lair, as indicated by the Dungeon Map, our journey entailed numerous twists and descents down multiple flights of stairs.


    Despite knowing precisely which way to proceed and having a general understanding of the base''s layout and our destination, the interior itself remained shrouded in dim lighting. Sparse torches, scattered here and there at junctions, fought against the encroaching darkness. In addition to the ominous paintings and scattered human remains, the air hung heavy with the presence of fiends and their malevolence. Without Petr''s constant reminders to stay on the designated path, I would have easily lost my way.


    I had entertained the idea of venturing into this place alone, all in the name of minimizing casualties. But as I stood there, in the presence of my companions, I couldn''t help but question whether I would have been able to make it this far on my own.


    "Our destination lies ahead," Petr announced, coming to a halt at the end of the path. The fiends'' lair sprawled out before us, revealing a vast chamber with a domed roof.


    As I surveyed the room, I realized that it took the shape of a flat-bottomed sphere. The entrance didn''t align with the floor but rather with the center of the sphere. Stairs, crafted from immense stone, ascended from the floor towards the opening in the wall.


    "So, we''ve finally arrived," I murmured. "Wait, is that...?!"


    Although I knew we were safe within the spectral plane, I couldn''t help but fall into stunned silence as my gaze fell upon the fiends'' nest.


    "How horrifying..."


    "What in the world is that?"


    The nest itself consisted of a series of blood-red, spherical masses¡ªor at least, that''s the closest description I can offer. There were five clusters of goo, each one the size of a dreadbeast, measuring around five meters in diameter. The shapes twisted and overlapped, creating a nightmarish sight. Based on the explanations I had received thus far, I had imagined the nest to be a living, pulsating entity. But witnessing it firsthand, it appeared unexpectedly inorganic.


    Around the nest, I could discern the lurking shadows of numerous fiends.


    "Is something emerging from it?" I asked, unable to tear my gaze away.


    At the point where the nest touched the ground, a portion of the mass swelled up¡ªthen a protrusion burst forth. Initially, I mistook it for some kind of pole, but then the end split into five distinct fingers, and I realized I was witnessing a hand. The twisted shoulder, contorted head, and robust torso followed suit, as if I were witnessing a grotesque mockery of a cheap game show act¡ªa contestant struggling to break through a flimsy rubber sheet. Finally, the fingers tore through, accompanied by a repulsive, slimy sound, and a dreadbeast tumbled out of the nest. The ruptured film promptly absorbed back into the mass.


    Even Petr''s voice wavered with trepidation. "So, this... this is a fiend''s nest..."

 Defending against the nest.

    THE ONE FOE that demanded our unwavering focus was the abhorrent nest. Yet, in close proximity, numerous other malevolent creatures lurked, ready to confront us. First among them was the dreadbeast, birthed from the very depths of the nest. Additionally, Bladeshrikes, fiends with limbs like scythes, and enigmatic abominations concealed themselves within the shadows.


    Remained within the ethereal realm, we gathered, engaging in profound deliberation over our imminent strategy.


    "Ten years past, the nest I witnessed was no larger than a single orb," Gunther declared, his countenance grave.


    Petr''s visage mirrored the gravity of the situation. "I suspect this nest remained concealed from our sight deliberately, concealed beneath the ground, until the fiends amassed a force invincible enough to challenge us."


    "Are you suggesting the fiends orchestrated this scheme?" Eryn questioned.


    "Fiends have been known to exhibit a degree of organization and employ tactics under the command of their leaders," Gunther affirmed.


    As I absorbed the discourse of the adventurers and knights, I contemplated the optimal method to dismantle the nest. Within these circumstances, the only viable choice was the Meteor Storm. Although typically employed to summon celestial bodies from the heavens, it could be wielded to conjure meteors within an enclosed space. Considering the substantial size of the chamber, casting such a spell would pose no challenge.


    However, employing this spell necessitated my departure from the spectral plane, returning to the realm of the tangible. While it would be ideal if the nest remained inert, the possibility of its retaliatory assault rendered the reckless casting of the spell perilous. Despite the danger, I ventured to propose the notion.


    "Absolutely not," Eryn interjected.


    "Should you perish, we shall be unable to depart the spectral plane, correct? Have you pondered this?" Petr voiced his concerns.


    "Do not jest about such matters!" Gilbert exclaimed.


    "If peril befalls you, I shall serve as your shield," Linden pledged.


    "If we become burdensome, I shall not hold it against you should you abandon us. Do as you deem necessary," Gunther declared.


    The consensus was unanimous, opposing my proposition of venturing out alone.


    While I appreciated their sentiments, I ruminated, my intentions were not borne of arrogance. I merely feared that my mistakes might inflict harm upon them.


    "I, for one, am weary of your underestimation," Eryn asserted.


    "Eryn, I..."


    "Do you perceive us as mere playthings? Gaze upon us once more. These are warriors who have braved countless battles, a skilled adventurer, and a weaver!" Eryn''s pride radiated from her countenance, stronger than ever before. I acquiesced and surveyed the knights and adventurers accompanying me. I discerned fear and anxiety, yet within each of their eyes burned a resolute spirit that eclipsed all else.


    These individuals have witnessed the horrors wrought by daemons, yet have not recoiled. They have witnessed the might of my magic, yet do not cling to it. They merit my utmost respect. Despite my considerable power, compared to them, I am but an apprentice.


    "Very well."


    Thus, I understood the necessity of allies such as them. Deliberating upon the spells at my disposal and the enchanted artifacts in my possession, I contemplated various scenarios. What if the nest were to charge at us? What if we were ambushed from behind?


    "I implore all of you to lend me your aid."


    Finally, I settled upon a fundamental strategy to present to my comrades.


    "To cast Meteor Shower, we must penetrate the dome," I elucidated.


    Though I should encounter no difficulty invoking Meteor Shower within this labyrinthine dungeon, any attempt to cast it from the hallway would inevitably result in its collision with the dome''s walls, thwarting its intended trajectory toward the target.


    "Therefore, once we reach the depths of the dome, we must return to... normal space," Eryn affirmed.


    "That is the initial obstacle. Subsequently, let us circumvent the entrance and traverse the walls, emerging behind the nest, before descending into the chamber," I proposed.


    "Why not descend the stairs?" Gilbert interjected. "While in the astral plane, they shall remain oblivious to our presence, correct?"


    Gilbert''s query held merit, yet I shook my head in response.


    "I deem it prudent to exercise utmost caution. Though we have thus far encountered no complications, I am averse to taking any chances with regard to this nest."


    "Hmm... Well, as long as I grasp the distance accurately and maintain unwavering concentration, leading us to our destination should prove feasible," Petr volunteered.


    "Once we transition back to normal space, we must safeguard Xandros from both the fiends and the nest."


    "With curselings, dreadbeasts, bladeshrikes, and various other fiendish entities lurking, I cannot guarantee your safety. Our numbers are somewhat lacking," Petr warned.


    "Eryn, can you not employ your magical prowess to summon servitors?" Eryn inquired.


    "Indeed, I possess such capability..."


    Inspired by Eryn''s suggestion, I resolved to summon ogres as decoys, diverting their attention and launching a frontal assault upon the nest.


    "However, the dreadbeast and the nest itself may retaliate. Nevertheless, I implore you to ensure my protection for at least ten seconds, regardless of the cost."


    Silence pervaded the chamber.


    Personally, I had made peace with the notion that I might fall prey to a violent onslaught or be hurled away by an overwhelming force. Nevertheless, so long as I maintain the same level of concentration I exhibited when I petrified Karyon, I remain confident in my ability to complete the incantation.


    "Lord Xandros, are you certain that a mere ten seconds will suffice?"


    "Yes. Following that interval, I shall assume the mantle of the aggressor."


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    "Are you truly convinced that you shall obliterate the nest?"


    "Without a doubt."


    Gilbert''s persistence was evident. While it may have been difficult to classify such tenacity as admirable, the conviction resonating in his voice convinced me of his sincerity, prompting me to respond with unwavering resolve. In acknowledgment, he offered a smile.


    "Understood! If that be the case, I shall neither charge forth nor abandon you. I shall remain steadfastly by your side, defending you!"


    "Uh, thank you."


    He intended to charge forth?! I pondered, bemused. Well, I mused, it is preferable to possess an excess of determination than to be bereft of it entirely. Moreover, if he is suppressing his instinctual yearning for combat in order to safeguard me... that, in itself, is worthy of admiration.


    "Brother... I shall do likewise!" Linden proclaimed.


    "I, too, shall emulate Sir Gilbert''s exemplary valor," Gunther added.


    Leoria and Gunther, individuals who possessed a far greater familiarity with Gilbert than I, understood the weight of his decision to entrust another with the offensive.


    "Well... I suppose I must reassess my opinion of you, Gilbert," Eryn admitted.


    "Agreed," Petr concurred, both displaying smiles.


    "Well, it took you long enough to recognize my greatness! I am an Adamant! Never forget it!"


    "Before we proceed, allow me to bestow spells, augmenting your physical prowess and imbuing your weapons with enchantments."


    "You plan to employ enchantments? Without tools or a proper workshop? How preposterous are your powers, truly?" Eryn''s exasperation was evident as she addressed me.


    "Please, let''s save that discussion for later," Petr interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension.


    "Besides," Eryn continued, pointing her finger in my direction, "when you summon meteors into that room, won''t we be swept away by the resulting blast?"


    Her question held merit. Without the necessary precautions, Eryn''s astute observation was entirely accurate. We would undoubtedly be at the mercy of the ensuing explosion.


    "Fear not, I have devised a special spell to address that concern," I reassured them.


    A few moments passed, and then...


    "Guraahh!"


    "Gaaah!!!"


    A dozen towering brown ogres charged forth from the hallway, storming into the domed chamber. For this very occasion, I had meticulously prepared and cast the Summon Ogre Platoon spells, conjuring a team of decoys.


    "Graah!"


    The ogres thundered down the stone steps, dispersing throughout the room. Some engaged the nest, others confronted the newly hatched dreadbeast, while the remainder launched attacks against the fiends lurking nearby. Prior to their manifestation, I had also employed the Wall of Iron spell to seal off the passage behind us, preventing any additional fiends from joining the fray.


    I held no delusion that the ogres possessed the means to obliterate the nest on our behalf. Their role was merely to serve as a diversionary force.


    "Grroo?"


    The dreadbeast reacted sluggishly to the unexpected ogre assault, suffering several blows. Yet, none proved fatal. Despite its delayed reactions, the dreadbeast managed to hurl a few ogres aside with its immense arm.


    "Hyeee!"


    A bird-like screech pierced the air, a sound unfamiliar to me emanating from the fiends. It originated from one of the bladeshrikes¡ªa creature endowed with avian limbs resembling sharp scythes. Its strike narrowly missed its intended target, but the ogre nonetheless spewed blood from its wounds.


    "Arroo!"


    Fiends clustered around the nest unleashed a volley of flaming arrows, impaling the ogres.


    "Gwah?!"


    These fiery arrows far surpassed Karyon''s ice arrows in potency. One ogre, struck directly in the chest, became engulfed in an inferno, burning like a torch.


    "Those are mystils," Gunther elucidated. "They are a rarity. The last confirmed sighting was a decade ago, and even then, only one was encountered."


    The Arcanists towered above curselings, each brandishing a staff. So, these are the weaver-type fiends, I surmised. It stands to reason that other variations exist to mirror warriors and priests. At the present rate, it is only a matter of time before the ogres are vanquished.


    However, I possess more than just ogres.


    "Ghraaaa!"


    Reinforcements are in order.


    Emerging from the tunnel beyond the chamber''s entrance, a colossal creature with folded wings revealed itself. Summoned into existence through the spell Summon Monster, it took the form of a small red dragon. Despite being considered diminutive by draconic standards, measuring a mere six meters in length with a wingspan double that size, this CR 10 creature possessed strength nearly twice that of the ogres.


    "Gyaoh!"


    "Gii?!"


    The red dragon soared directly toward the dreadbeast, sinking its razor-sharp claws into its flesh. The Arcanists redirected their attacks toward the dragon, but their flames seemed to have minimal effect against its resilient hide.


    "Remarkable..." Gunther commented. "If this persists, the creature may vanquish the fiends on our behalf..."


    "I highly doubt it," I cautioned. "Remember, these creatures serve only as a distraction."


    As of yet, the nest remained motionless. However, as an experienced gamer, my intuition urged me to anticipate its imminent retaliation. Gamers of all formats understand this truth: The final boss never falls without putting up a fight. I desired to eliminate it before it could unleash its full potential. The fact that it remained unresponsive to the ogres and the dragon only intensified my suspicion.


    "Thus far, our plan has unfolded flawlessly. I place my trust in all of you to see this through."


    "To whom do you think you''re speaking?" Eryn retorted sarcastically.


    "Yeah! Leave it to me!" Gilbert proclaimed.


    Though Eryn and Gilbert possessed distinct forms of energy, a subtle hint of nervousness betrayed their true emotions. I detected the same undertone of anxiety in the others, who nodded in silent agreement.


    "W-we''ve made it."


    "I assured you we would."


    Having successfully maneuvered through the interior of the walls, we emerged on the opposite side of the domed chamber. It was thanks to the combined effects of Planeshift and Petr''s exceptional sense of direction that we navigated the earth with unerring accuracy.


    "Shaaa!"


    "Grooo!"


    The red dragon pounced upon the back of the dreadbeast. Its claws dug deep, forcing the fiend to the ground, where it was subjected to torrents of scorching breath. Amidst the chaotic struggle, the dragon employed its tail to strike the bladeshrikes and Arcanists, while its fiery exhalation engulfed them.


    And still, the nest remained dormant.


    "Very well," I shouted, my voice resolute. "Let us proceed."


    The time has come, I pondered. Regardless of what unfolds next, I must concentrate solely on casting the spell.


    We departed the spectral plane, returning to the realm of normalcy.


    "Gu-gyaah!"


    "Gruooh!"


    Raising my Staff high, its magical Light dispelled the dungeon''s inherent darkness. The cacophony of screeches, screams, and howls from the monsters assailed our ears unabated, while their repugnant odor made breathing arduous. Yet, I refused to let these factors impede my focus.


    "It is time to witness the mettle of the Adamants."


    "We place our trust in you, Lord Archmage."


    Gilbert, Linden, and Gunther positioned themselves in front of me, shields raised, while Petr and Eryn stood at my side. I had already cast Physical Boost on their bodies and Enchant on their weapons. Though the spells had limited durations, their offensive and defensive capabilities should have experienced a significant enhancement.


    The countdown had begun. Six seconds remained to unleash the spell. Six seconds to vanquish the fiends.


    "Hii!"


    "Arrooo!"


    Several arcanists and bladeshrikes had already detected our presence. Impressive, I mused. The arcanists leveled their staves at us, while the bladeshrikes lunged forward, their blade-like arms glinting menacingly.


    "Do you truly believe you can best me?"


    "You''ll need to put in more effort than that!"


    The knights deftly deflected the arcanists'' fiery arrows with their shields and parried the bladeshrikes'' strikes with their swords.


    Five seconds remained.


    A bowstring twanged, and two bladeshrikes hurtling toward us met their demise, felled by well-placed arrows piercing their foreheads.


    Four seconds.


    In that moment, I found myself frozen in place.


    The nest, constructed from several stacked spheres, opened its eye and fixated its gaze upon me. It was not an organic, living eye, but rather an eye-shaped symbol etched upon the surface of the highest sphere. Yet, when those white lines materialized on the sphere''s black surface, an instinctual certainty surged within me¡ªI was being observed.


    A grisly tear ripped through the air, and the red dragon''s torso split open as it crashed to the ground. A single tentacle had cleaved through the air with astonishing speed, obliterating anything in its path. Thick as a human torso, the dark appendage extended from one of the spheres'' surfaces, and now it swiveled, its velocity slightly diminished after felling the dragon, but still swift, sweeping toward us.


    Clara chanted her incantation, conjuring a barrier of gale-force winds that roared between us and the nest. The ground erupted, enveloping us in a swirling screen of sand.


    The wind barrier momentarily halted the tentacle''s advance, only to falter and dissipate entirely. The Adamant siblings raised their shields in unison.


    "Do not underestimate us!"


    "Yeah!"


    The tentacle collided with the siblings'' shields.


    Three seconds.


    "Haah!" Gilbert and Linden cried out simultaneously, flawlessly coordinating their movements. With a synchronized motion, they redirected the force of the tentacle upward, using their shields as leverage.


    Bolstered by the augmented strength of Physical Boost and the magical defense imbued within their shields by Enchant, they withstood the blow, deflecting it just high enough to pass harmlessly over our heads. However, were it not for Eryn''s incantation dampening a significant portion of the strike, the siblings'' valiant effort might have met with failure.


    As the tentacle arced above us, the sudden change in air pressure weighed heavily on our shoulders, accompanied by a resounding rush.


    Gilbert and Linden''s knees buckled, and they collapsed to the ground, rolling from the residual force of the blow they had endured. Gunther swiftly moved forward, ensuring they remained within the safe zone I had specified upon our departure from the spectral plane.


    Two seconds.


    The nest''s colossal eye blinked, and its tentacle surged forward, accelerating in its spin.


    One second.


    "Time Stop!" I exclaimed, and everything came to a halt.


    "Phew..." I released a relieved breath.


    The ninth-level spell, Time Stop, froze the passage of time for everyone but myself. The cacophony of shouts, screams, and yells ceased, and all others remained motionless: the knights, the adventurers, the fiends, and even their nest.


    The rules were unequivocal: twenty seconds before everything resumed its course. Within those twenty seconds, I cast two spells.


    Time resumed¡ªand the two spells I had cast during the Time Stop took effect simultaneously.


    The first spell I employed was Wall of Force, conjuring an impenetrable, transparent sphere of force that enveloped the six members of our team.


    The second spell was Meteor Shower, but I opted for a variant in which a single colossal meteor descended upon a single target, instead of a multitude of smaller meteors striking an area.


    The ensuing sound resembled more of a brief whistle than a scream. The massive meteor I had summoned collided with the nest on the dome''s ceiling with such astonishing speed and force that its trajectory was nearly imperceptible.


    What followed, however, was impossible to miss. The nest, in its original shape and form, was instantaneously obliterated. Its remnants scattered in all directions, akin to bursting a mud-filled balloon. The expulsion of the nest''s remains was swiftly accompanied by a blinding white flash of flames, their scorching roar accompanied by an intense shockwave.


    It felt as though someone were screaming, but I could neither hear nor see a thing. Perhaps it was my own voice lost in the chaos.


    Wall of Force was the most resilient barrier that could be forged in T&T. According to the rulebook, it was impervious to physical destruction. Consequently, it shielded us entirely from the meteor''s impact.


    However, the barrier allowed light and sound to pass through, and the strain these effects exerted on us caused everyone to collapse onto their knees.


    I felt something soft against my back and neck, realizing that Eryn had clasped onto me from behind. In a daze, I surveyed the scene¡ªeveryone had survived. Gilbert''s left arm contorted unnaturally. It must have fractured when he redirected the tentacle''s attack.


    "Damn, this hurts."


    "Brother!" Linden rushed to Gilbert''s side.


    "We did it, didn''t we, mage?" Petr settled on the ground beside me, a wearied smile adorning his face.


    I could not provide an answer.

 Troubled Archmage

    OUR ESCAPE AFTERWARD proved surprisingly uneventful. The annihilation of the fiend nest hadn''t quite resulted in the sudden disintegration of all the remaining beasts ¨C alas, that would have been a stroke of exceptional fortune. Instead, the explosions and tremors below stirred the surviving fiends in the floors above, sending them into a frenzy of panic.


    Nonetheless, we safely returned to the spectral plane, shrouded from the eyes of unsuspecting mortals. Once all were accounted for and out of harm''s way, I invoked Meteor Storm once more, reducing the underground passage to rubble and vanquishing the fiends trapped within. With my powers of Complete Recovery, I tended to Gilbert''s wounds, ensuring he was hale and hearty.


    The return to the fortress was untroubled, and our report of the harrowing encounter elicited an enthusiastic response from the Adamant Knights. Under Albert''s authoritative command, the defensive lines were transformed into a relentless offense, encircling the very cave that had housed the fiendish nest, seeking out any remnants of the malevolent creatures lingering in the vicinity.


    Though the final purge consumed five more days, the knights succeeded in eradicating the fiends from the mountain and its surrounding forests. Yet, prudence prevailed, and we decided to station a contingent of knights at the fortress, ever watchful for any signs of fiendish resurgence.


    Albert, resolute and committed to our cause, declared, "The Adamant Knights shall bear the responsibility of eliminating this menace, even if it entails financing the operation with the Stevenson family''s personal wealth."


    Still, I couldn''t shake the lingering weight on my shoulders. What were these fiends, truly? What lay at the core of a fiend''s nest? Should another nest emerge, would the people of Dravus possess the means to combat it without our intervention?


    I found myself grappling with a deeper connection to this predicament. Could I, in all earnestness, ignore the fiends as an external menace? Was it incumbent upon me, as I feared, to confront humanity''s relentless nemesis head-on?


    These contemplations weighed heavily upon my heart. Yet, I couldn''t renege on the role destiny had thrust upon me, symbolized by this grandiose facade of a magic user I now donned. Such a mask wouldn''t brook the idea of passing the burden to another.


    ***


    Seven days after the nest''s obliteration, we made a stopover in Maridal en route to the Adamant Fortress. Accompanied by the main force of the Adamant Knights, we were met with a jubilant atmosphere, as word of our valiant efforts and the fiendish nest''s demise had already reached the village.


    A grand celebration unfolded in the village square, complete with a roaring bonfire and the villagers'' warm hospitality. Amidst the merriment, I found myself retreating to the Lordly Spoon, seeking solitude to contend with my inner turmoil.


    The room''s opulence paled in comparison to the exuberance outside. News of my exploits, of casting meteor storms and commanding dragons, had spread like wildfire among the villagers, but I couldn''t help but wish it had remained unsung. Their gratitude and praise had elevated me to the stature of a mighty magic wielder, but this newfound reverence also came laced with fear.


    Encounters with children and barmaids only served to reinforce this unsettling notion. Their dread-filled expressions, their trembling gestures, all mirrored my elevated status as a formidable magic user. Embracing this mantle meant accepting the responsibility for my actions, yet the burden weighed heavily on my soul, for I remained, at my core, an ordinary individual.


    Lost in introspection, I found myself sprawled on the bed, seeking solace, when Petr and Eryn arrived to dispel the somber aura that clung to me.


    Petr smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Aren''t you a bit old to be brooding in your chamber?"


    Eryn chimed in playfully, "Indeed, I doubt you''ve even had a decent meal."


    Their banter, veiled in humor, proved oddly comforting amidst the jubilant revelry beyond the chamber. As I sat up, they presented me with kebabs and wine, and their companionship became a source of genuine joy.


    "It seems it falls upon the younger ones to care for the elder and weary," I quipped, chuckling at their presence, grateful for their company.


    And so, in a close-knit trio, we celebrated, reveling in our camaraderie. Even when Linden and Gilbert decided to join our impromptu gathering, I found myself, for once, thankful for their intrusion.


    The following day marked our return to the Adamant Fortress, and the ensuing week saw a whirlwind of ceremonies, awards, feasts, and jubilant celebrations before the fervor eventually subsided.


    Seated in my guest room at the castle, I couldn''t help but wonder about the path I should tread next. Petr and Eryn were by my side, as was their usual custom, though Petr had expressed his intention to return to Vandaris City soon.


    "What''s on your mind?" I mused aloud with a sigh.


    Eryn wasted no time in voicing her thoughts, "I''d like to take you to our Weavers'' Guild in Vandaris."


    Indeed, she had made it clear that one of her motivations for sticking around me was to keep a close watch on my activities.


    "Why the interest?" I inquired, allowing a brief pause.


    She began to explain, "Our guild members, including myself, would be fascinated to explore the intricacies of your magic. We seek to understand if it''s a more advanced form of weaving, an anomaly, a subcategory, or perhaps something entirely distinct..."


    While I had already shared some insights into my magic with Eryn, I comprehended the Weavers'' Guild''s desire to pursue further investigation and not leave any stone unturned.


    "Very well. I shall plan to visit. I, too, am keen on delving deeper into the art of weaving and forging an alliance with your guild to combat the fiends," I responded, my mind driven by the pressing need for information and collaboration with influential allies in the fight against our common foe.


    As tales of the Weavers'' guilds'' importance in the struggle against the fiends reached my ears, I yearned to establish cordial ties with Eryn''s guild. However, her reaction remained enigmatic, despite her nod of consent.


    Another reason compelling me to journey to Vandaris City was the pressing need for copies of my spellbook. The sole copy nestled securely in my bag of holding, but I couldn''t risk losing it again. There were reputed book copiers in Dravus, and I intended to enlist their aid. Though securing a peaceful retirement abode ranked lower on my list of priorities, I hoped to eventually find a tranquil sanctuary.


    "Retire?" Eryn''s incredulous voice broke into our conversation, "Do you think you can simply disappear after revealing your powers to the world?"


    In truth, she made a valid point. Our chat was interrupted by a messenger relaying Captain Amrand Gal Stevenson''s request for an audience. I made my way to his sumptuously decorated private room, where he expressed gratitude for our combined efforts.


    "As an Archmage and your ally, I merely fulfilled my duty," I replied graciously, sipping on the sil tea he had poured for me.


    The captain mentioned Gilbert and Linden''s substantial contributions, observing how Gilbert seemed transformed after our shared ordeal. I acknowledged the truth in his words, knowing well that Gilbert''s courage and righteous wrath had saved me in ways I could never repay.


    The captain then steered the conversation toward the fortress, sharing its history as a former holdfast utilized by the order in monitoring various threats. However, in recent times, it had fallen under the dominion of bandits, and even Gunther''s presence couldn''t maintain a sustainable defense.


    "What exactly do you propose?" I inquired, uncertain of his intentions.


    His voice carried a mix of sincerity and wryness, "I''d like to offer you the fortress as your permanent residence. You have my recommendation to take ownership of it."


    I couldn''t help but be taken aback by the proposition. A mere fifteen days prior, I had woken up in the fortress, confined within its jail. Yet now, it had become a place of familiarity, hosting both cherished memories with Lana and the heroic endeavors of knights and adventurers against the fiends. The captain''s offer stirred conflicting emotions within me.


    Could I truly accept such a generous offer? Would owning the fortress mean assuming responsibility for its defense and the surrounding region?


    The captain seemed to gauge my apprehensions, clarifying that it was not imperative for me to reside there permanently. Merely owning the fortress, especially in the hands of a renowned and powerful archmage, would act as a potent deterrent against malevolent forces.


    While I could see the potential benefits, I couldn''t escape the fact that owning the fortress meant embracing responsibility, whether I lived there or not. A subtle tug of emotions enveloped me, while the practicality of utilizing the fortress as a hideaway presented a compelling allure.


    "As you''ve aptly stated, great mages and philosophers seldom dwell among common folk," the captain added, acknowledging my inner struggle.


    He wasn''t entirely wrong. In a fantasy world, the likes of renowned magic users rarely mingled with ordinary denizens. And having witnessed how the people of Maridal treated me, I now understood why.


    I mused over the offer, recalling the serene nights I had spent in the fortress, admiring the starlit skies and appreciating the solitude it offered.


    "It was indeed peaceful there," I admitted, "and it could serve as a haven for me to retreat to when I wish to be undisturbed."


    Captain Stevenson reassured me that the fortress required minimal repairs and was equipped with all necessary amenities. The more I pondered, the more appealing the idea became. A sanctuary to safeguard my cherished treasures and a workshop to craft magical items beckoned to me.


    "While it may not be sufficient to repay your aid in the fiend extermination, accepting the fortress would certainly bolster our reputation," the captain conceded.


    I could hardly refuse such a generous proposition. The weight of responsibility weighed on my mind, but the allure of the fortress proved too compelling to resist. With a smile, I responded, "I cannot deny such a heartfelt offer. I accept your gift, Captain Stevenson."


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    "You''re an idiot, aren''t you?"


    Upon returning to my guest room and sharing my decision, Eryn blinked a few times before lashing out with her usual candor. Her bluntness may have bruised my ego, but I knew her intentions were never malicious. I preferred her straightforwardness over empty flattery any day.


    "I came to this conclusion after much contemplation," I retorted, pushing aside my wounded pride. "The fortress offers the peace and safety I seek, away from prying eyes and unwarranted visitors."


    "That''s not what I meant! Weren''t you supposed to accompany me to the Vandaris Weavers'' Guild?!" Eryn''s raised eyebrows and hands on her hips revealed her exasperation.


    "I haven''t forgotten about the guild," I replied calmly. "I need a quiet environment where I can focus on my work. Could you wait a little longer for me?"


    My priorities remained clear. Firstly, I needed to gather more information about the fiends. Secondly, I had to create a backup copy of my spellbook. Carrying the tome with me everywhere wasn''t practical for a lifetime in Dravus. I needed a safe place to store it when not in use, and having copies would ensure I wasn''t left defenseless if my spellbook were lost or damaged. The Copiers'' Guild could assist with the process, but it would still take time to transcribe the spells into the new tomes. While learning about the fiends ranked higher on my priority list, securing my spellbook was crucial to my effectiveness.


    "Fine," Eryn reluctantly conceded after I explained my reasoning.


    "In that case, when will you head to Vandaris?" she asked.


    "I must wait until the detachment declares the area free of fiends," I replied. "I anticipate receiving the deed officially in three or four days. Then I''ll need to organize a few things at the fortress, and after that..."


    "I''ll wait seven days for you, no more!" Eryn declared firmly. "After that, you''re coming to Vandaris, understood?!"


    Petr chimed in, his smirk evident in his words. "Are you in such a hurry to whisk Emberus away to some love nest? Take your time, there''s no need to rush."


    It surprised me to hear Petr crack such a joke, though I couldn''t help but think it might not be appropriate in certain environments, given where I worked. Eryn, however, quickly brushed off his jest.


    "You can joke all you want, but you''re not a Weaver," she countered. "You have no idea how...bothersome¡ªno, threatening¡ªhis presence is to us."


    "I wasn''t lying about my interest in weaving," I added, trying to ease the tension. "I won''t keep you waiting longer than a week."


    Knowing I couldn''t have the copies made in a single day, I had other supplies to gather in Vandaris City regardless.


    "Alright then, I''ll join you at the fortress," Eryn stated suddenly.


    "Huh?"


    My visions of solitude in the fortress were suddenly shattered.


    "What''s that look for? Quit being so disrespectful!" Eryn yelled, stomping her foot like an indignant child.


    Over the next few days, I remained at the Adamant Fortress, allowing the village of Maridal to grow more familiar to me. I wandered its streets, delved into the castle''s library for knowledge, and lent a hand to the Adamant siblings in their training. In the midst of it all, I made an earnest effort to relax and enjoy the simplicity of life here.


    Though both the knights of the order and the villagers led laid-back lives, I couldn''t escape the lingering fear reflected in their gazes. Despite the respect they showed me, their unease lingered like a haunting specter. Captain Stevenson''s words rang true in my mind, affirming that there was little room for a "great and powerful archmage" within the confines of this humble village.


    On the third day, Petr took his leave from the Adamant Fortress, bound for Vandaris City.


    "I can''t escape the obligation of reporting to the Adventurers'' Guild about you," Petr mentioned, an amused smile playing on his lips, "but rest assured, I''ll sing your praises as a great hero."


    I shook his hand with a hint of concern in my voice, "Please, do not exaggerate too much on my behalf."


    Inwardly, I pleaded, hoping he wouldn''t overdo it¡ªbegging, really, that he kept his commendations in check.


    On the fourth day, Gunther and his knights returned to the castle, confirming the eradication of all fiends in the area after their thorough patrols. With Eryn by my side, we decided to make our journey to the fortress on the same day. Before setting off, I entrusted the knights with delivering Ild''s goods to him, ensuring they would reach him ahead of our arrival in a few days.


    Spirits high, knowing everything was well in order at the castle, I summoned my loyal pegasus and mounted it. Eryn joined me in the saddle behind, emphasizing that we would only stay at the fortress for two nights before heading to Vandaris.


    "The countryside is quite pleasant now that the fiends and bandits are gone," I mused, the sun shining brightly overhead and a gentle breeze embracing us. Riding with Eryn, I couldn''t help but appreciate the beauty of the world around me. Even if she could be exasperating at times, her company added a certain charm to the journey. Back in America, looking at myself now, riding alongside a beautiful young woman, I would have been seized by jealousy, completely unaware of the fiend-filled reality of this world.


    As we approached the fortress, I pointed out with pride, "There it is! My very own Castle Ameria." The name was inspired by Emberus''s (fictional) homeland, and though calling it a castle might be a stretch, such names were often about feelings rather than strict definitions. The knights had cleaned and maintained the fortress before handing it over to me, and now it appeared more luxurious and sturdier than ever.


    Dreams of the future filled my mind. I imagined foraging for mushrooms and wild vegetables in the pristine forest surrounding the castle, spending leisurely days fishing by the stream and setting traps for animals. The vast land offered opportunities for a vegetable garden, a project that piqued my interest.


    On rainy days, I envisioned myself cozily reading books on the top floor of the tower, where the stress-free environment would be conducive to learning. At night, the silence far from the bustling towns would be my company. Dinner preparations, though not my strong suit, would be simple affairs, and I could relish the solitude without the need to impress anyone.


    And the stars! Every night, I would immerse myself in a bath, gazing up at the true night sky¡ªthe kind obscured by modern lights in America. True, my current bath was a makeshift barrel tub, but perhaps I could discover a natural hot spring within the mountains.


    I sighed, a smile of contentment on my face. It was the life many middle-aged men fantasized about¡ªeasy street, as they say.


    Of course, my plans to create spellbook copies and gather information on the fiends remained unchanged, and I would not hesitate to take action if another fiends'' nest emerged. But surely, one couldn''t fault a man for savoring life''s simpler joys.


    Though we had maintained a steady pace, we surprisingly reached the fortress just as the sun began to set, despite setting out early that very same day from the Adamant Fortress. The distance typically required camping overnight on the road, yet my pegasus had proven its exceptional abilities once more.


    Feeling a slight hunger in my belly, I left Eryn in the large room on the first floor and headed towards the kitchen, which adjoined the living quarters. While I possessed magic items that could conjure up a meal from nothing, it felt like cheating when I had a fully-equipped kitchen at my disposal.


    "Alright, let''s get a fire started in the stove," I said to myself. Retrieving flint stones from my bag of holding, I attempted to create a spark. Having used flint in countless TTRPGs, it couldn''t be too difficult, right? I recalled watching adventurers create fires during our camping trips, and it appeared straightforward enough.


    One, two...


    "Ow!!!"


    My first attempt ended with a painful strike on the fingernail of my thumb.


    "Damn, that hurt¡­ Ow!"


    Reality settled in as I assessed the kitchen¡ªa far cry from the well-equipped ones I was accustomed to in America, boasting refrigerators, gas stoves, and microwaves as the norm.


    "This might be more challenging than I anticipated."


    Striking the flint stones together, my anxiety grew with each passing second. Although I managed to produce sparks, I couldn''t ignite a proper fire.


    "Wait, of course, I can''t start a log fire with just sparks. I need kindling... something to burn easily, like newspaper... but there''s no newspaper here, obviously!"


    I glanced at what seemed like a box of kindling with a few shreds of wood, yet my attempts yielded no success.


    "Life here won''t be as convenient as back in America..."


    In my previous life across the ocean, I had lived independently for decades, handling basic chores and cooking with ease. I mistakenly assumed that such skills would transfer seamlessly to this foreign world. Reflecting on my previous stays at the fortress, I recalled Lana and the order''s servants taking care of my meals, bath, and laundry. Unlike Dravus, where supermarkets and convenience stores would typically aid in acquiring fresh produce and meat, the surroundings of Castle Ameria were uninhabited.


    How could I let myself become so carried away by my dreams of a simple life that I overlooked such a basic consideration?


    To regain my composure and find some footing in my thoughts, I decided to make a comprehensive list of the fortress''s facilities:


    Main Tower-


    Basement: Storage Rooms (housing general goods, weapons, and wine)


    First Floor: Main Hall (used for assemblies and dining)


    Second Floor: Commander¡¯s Office, Archive, Guest Room- Third Floor: Bedroom, Study, Treasure Room- Roof: Lookout


    Living Quarters (two stories plus basement)


    - Knights¡¯ Quarters (five individual rooms)


    - Attendants¡¯ Quarters (two small rooms)


    - Soldiers¡¯ Quarters (two large rooms)


    - Servants¡¯ Quarters (three rooms)


    - Kitchen


    - Mess Hall


    - Food and General Storage (basement)


    - Linen and Bedding Storage


    Jail Compound (attached building)


    Courtyard


    - Horse and Livestock Stables


    - Chicken Coop


    - Wells (including those used for laundry)


    - Designated Work Area


    Main Gate and Defensive Towers


    With the list completed, I had a clearer picture of the fortress and its resources, which would be essential for my life here. Yet, I still needed to find a solution to my current predicament¡ªhow to create a fire without modern conveniences. It was apparent that my skills as a modern-day man might not be as relevant in this world as I once believed.


    During the operation to obliterate the fiends'' nest, the fortress was brimming with activity, accommodating an army of around fifty knights, soldiers, and servants. My mind couldn''t help but wonder, could a single person truly maintain and manage this fortress alone? It seemed like an overwhelming task, but I wasn''t one to give up easily. I considered the possibility of using my magic to craft servants, a solution that might yet salvage my decision. It wasn''t the time to throw in the towel just yet.


    Yet, something gnawed at me¡ªthis notion of philosophers and Archmages residing in solitude. Did that solitude mean handling all the cleaning and chores alone? It struck me as implausible. Regret crept in as I ruminated on my hasty acceptance of the fortress.


    "Nevertheless, I must address the matter of dinner."


    Though my mind grappled with self-criticism, my immediate dilemma remained unresolved. Such reflections only deepened the sense of uncertainty, though it all remained internal. As Emberus''s character sheet indicated, I had provisions¡ªrations, dried fruits, meats, beans, and bread¡ªwithin my bag of holding. Arranging them on the table, I gazed at the assortment with uncertainty.


    "What am I supposed to do with this?" I pondered aloud.


    Cutting up some dried meat seemed plausible, but without a fire, even that simple task became daunting. My magic repertoire lacked a suitable spell for igniting flames without wreaking havoc on the kitchen. My spellbook contained no such utility.


    "Maybe I can eat it as is... It''s dried meat after all, right? I''ll just cut it into smaller pieces..."


    What am I feeling? I stared blankly at the dried meat. Is this my breaking point? Shall I be defeated by a mere kitchen?


    "I knew it," Eryn remarked dryly.


    Her scrutinizing gaze was well-deserved. "Ha, ha... It seems I was unprepared to face the challenges of having a secret hideaway all to myself..."


    "Forget the secret hideaway. I knew you were hopeless in the kitchen. And I was right."


    "I must reluctantly agree with you. Thankfully, you''re here."


    "Hmm? What do you mean?"


    "You know, women are generally more reliable when it comes to this sort of thing. I hate to ask, but as you can see, I''m struggling. Could you whip up something for us?"


    "You want to try that again?"


    "Please?"


    ***


    In the end, I resorted to using a magic item for our dinner that night.


    Returning to the main hall, nestled in the heart of the main tower, Eryn and I spread a tablecloth¡ªa magical one called a Dinner Cloth¡ªover a table. With a simple command, "Dinner for two¡ªsomething warm," the Dinner Cloth heeded my call.


    The table adorned itself for two, garnished with plates, bowls, glasses, knives, forks, and spoons. Soon after, a tantalizing dinner materialized, its aroma wafting delicately. The Dinner Cloth treated us to succulent steak complemented by wine, comforting soup, and a side salad.


    Eryn summoned a small fire arrow into the hearth, filling the room with a warm glow.


    "Is this magic too?" she inquired. "You conjured this food and wine seemingly from thin air... How does such a feat even work?"

 Threads of Allegiance: Tug-of-War in Vandaris

    ON THE MORROW, the path before Eryn and I unfolded towards the gleaming towers of Vandaris City. The castle, in its present chaotic condition, seemed less appealing, propelling our eager departure.


    Known as the Empire Road, the route stretched from the quaint Maridal to the grand Vandaris, finally reaching the remote lands of the historic Sandivistan Empire. It was Petr who had spun tales of the Empire''s zenith two or three centuries prior when the stone-paved roads formed the veins of an expansive, thriving empire.


    Following an overwhelming surge of ghastly creatures, the once-mighty Empire crumbled, disintegrating into independent states and alliances. The Lumeos Concord, for instance, now held dominion over these lands. In hearing this, I''d hastily concluded that Sandivistan represented this realm''s archetypal ancient advanced civilization. Yet, my presupposition proved to be misguided. The empire had survived, albeit lesser in its splendor, akin to any other nation adorned with a tapestry of history.


    Despite having lost vast expanses of its territory, the Sandivistan Empire retained a power and prestige befitting its title as Dravus''s eldest civilized country. As a testament to this lasting influence, the Adamant Knights remained loyal to the Sandivistan monarchy (though sans any fiscal obligation). The Marion lineage, Eryn proudly claimed, traced its roots back to this historic empire.


    Eryn argued our spectral steed would attract undue attention on the Empire Road, well-trodden by travelers. Hence, we decided to tread the path on foot. While the route meandered through occasional dips and elevations, it offered a comfortable journey. We would occasionally cross paths with shepherds guiding their flocks, traders steering their laden wagons, or solitary wanderers. The tranquil journey made me question the rumored menace of bandits, a query which a merchant fellow camper was more than eager to resolve, "A formidable mage took up residence nearby, driving the scoundrels away in fear!"


    The information had disseminated faster than I''d anticipated, perhaps catalyzed by Captain Stevenson''s purposeful spread of rumors about me. I couldn''t recall the last time I had roamed with such unburdened freedom. I pondered, This might indeed be my maiden experience of such tranquility. The medieval-esque landscape, accompanied by the enchanting albeit boisterous woman, painted an unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting, picture. I found myself grateful for my journey to Dravus, a sentiment I''d be hesitant to share with my former colleagues and friends.


    By the third day, however, the monotonous rhythm of our journey had begun to wear thin on my patience. As boredom loomed, a beacon of hope emerged from Eryn''s words.


    "Once we crest that hill, Lake Lumeos and Vandaris City should come into view," she said.


    "Eager anticipation sparked within me. I quickened my pace, aware of the sudden moisture in the air as I ascended. At the summit, I found myself entranced.


    Had I not been informed, I might''ve mistaken the vast body of water for the sea. The lake stretched into a misty horizon, with no opposite shore visible. The memory of the smaller Lake Mead from my home sprung to mind. Lake Lumeos, I marveled, my attention quickly shifting to the city by its shore.


    "Marvelous! A city fortified by walls!"


    Indeed, Vandaris City sprawled along the shores of Lake Lumeos, encompassed by two rings of fortified stone walls. The outermost wall partially receded towards the port, where sizable sailing ships were docked. The city''s stone structures, capped by roofs of varying colors, were a sight to behold.


    "Hold on! You''re rushing!" Eryn called out.


    I turned back to see her, flushed and laboring to keep up. Despite the slight twinge of guilt, I couldn¡¯t resist my fascination with the city.


    "Apologies¡­ I was drawn towards the city''s charm," I replied.


    "At your age, such stamina is impressive," she remarked with a tinge of sarcasm.


    I couldn''t help but laugh at her comment. My secret, though I didn''t divulge, were the magical boots that permitted extended, tireless travel, matching the pace of a horse if needed. Yet, I reflected, this may not bode well for my overall health.


    With a river circumventing its outer wall, Vandaris City boasted a drawbridge teeming with traders, peasants, and carts bearing diverse goods.


    "The city is awe-inspiring, dwarfing Maridal in comparison," I admitted.


    Eryn puffed her chest out with pride, "Vandaris City, the jewel of Lumeos Concord, stands tall among all continental cities, not just in size, but also in its historical and cultural richness."


    The Empire Road not only linked to Maridal but also extended northward. The bustling city served as a hub, and the crowd gathered outside its gate was unlike anything I''d witnessed since arriving in Dravus. The open gates, overseen by uniformed guards inspecting the incoming traffic, was a sight reminiscent of the medieval fantasy setting. The guards seemed diligent, ensuring the city''s law and order were maintained.


    After a twenty-minute wait, we stood before the guards, the stone-paved square, complete with a fountain and lively musicians, lay beyond the gates.


    "Stay focused," Eryn nudged me. "Here, write your name, status, and planned lodging."


    She handed me a wooden writing board, the traveler''s registration application, and a stylus, while presenting her official pass to the guards.


    "Excuse me, I''m Emberus Blazeus Xandros," I began. "As for status, would ''commoner'' suffice? Regarding my stay..."


    "Don''t overthink it. Just write ''The Weaver¡¯s Guild''," Eryn suggested, emphasizing the phrase.


    "Oh, alright then..." I began, but was interrupted by the guard.


    "Hold on! You''re Emberus Blazeus Xandros?! The Archmage who assisted the Adamant Knights in annihilating the fiend''s nest?!"


    "Wh-What?!" I exclaimed, the rumors about me flooding back to mind, and a creeping sense of dread took hold.


    ¡°The infamous Archmage graces us with his presence!¡±¡°The very same, Emberus Blazeus Xandros, the hero of legends!¡±¡°The Master of all Magic!¡±The astonished exclamations echoed from both the sentinels of the city gate and the people queued behind us. A warm blush spread across my cheeks.


    I feared for a moment the press of the crowd, a surge of bodies trying to glimpse the renowned figure I had become. But reality proved otherwise. A respectful circle formed around Eryn and me, including the guard conducting our entrance inspection. Their faces were painted with an array of emotions; the thrill of admiration and joy among some, a disquieting anxiety amongst others.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    My mind flickered back to the similar reaction in Maridal, my spirits drooping.


    ¡°He appears less imposing than the stories tell¡­¡±¡°Seemingly¡­ ordinary?¡±¡°I heard he hails from a land across the great sea¡­¡±¡°Is that the fabled staff that commanded the stars to fall from the sky?¡±¡°Hold your ground! Anger him and he may turn us all to stone!¡±The murmuring rose but still, the crowd held its place.


    ¡°Unless you address them, we shan¡¯t make our way through,¡± Eryn remarked with a light sigh, her calm countenance surprising.


    I shivered at the thought of the potential tales that would spin out of my words, but I found no other option. My hopes of leading an inconspicuous life seemed ready to evaporate.


    ¡°I beg your pardon for the commotion, fine travelers and honorable citizens of Vandaris,¡± my Staff of Archmagery resounded as it struck the cobblestones, providing emphasis as I turned to address the sea of faces.


    ¡°I confirm your suspicions. I am indeed Emberus Blazeus Xandros, the Archmage,¡± I raised my voice to ensure every ear would hear. ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you all. I count it a great honor to stand at the threshold of your splendid city, Vandaris.¡± I paused a moment then turned back to the city guard. ¡°If there are no further inquiries, would you be so kind as to grant me passage?¡±


    ¡°My sincerest apologies, Archmage! Please, proceed. Welcome to Vandaris!¡±Despite the intricate language, my past life as a corporate salesman had ingrained within me a knack for formal oration. The guard hardly needed persuading. A symphony of spears echoed off the cobblestones in salute, a spectacle that stirred an admiration within me.


    ¡°With your leave, my friends¡­¡±The recognition of my identity seemed to pacify the crowd. Their apprehensions replaced with bows and words of welcome as they made way for my entrance into the city, careful to maintain their distance.


    ¡°Shall we proceed?¡± Eryn¡¯s words cut through the clamor, her focus unswayed by the spectacle.


    I recalled her purpose, to guide me to the Vandaris weavers'' Guild. I decided it best not to further delay her task, but a figure stepped forward blocking our path.


    ¡°Mister Ember! Mister Ember!¡±A small figure launched from the crowd, embracing me in a hug that stole my breath.¡°Mister Ember!¡±Lowering my gaze, I found myself met by teary cherry-hued eyes. It was Lana.


    ¡°Archmage Emberus!¡± Lana¡¯s voice trembled as she hugged me tighter.


    ¡°Ah, Lana. It''s been some time. I did not expect our paths to cross so soon after my arrival.¡±Had I been younger, perhaps the unbridled adoration of a young maiden would have brought me joy, but being a man past his fourth decade, Lana¡¯s affection felt more akin to a child greeting a long-lost relative. Her sudden affection caught me off guard, my voice still carrying the echo of grandeur from my previous speech. I feared she might take offense, but my worry proved unnecessary. After catching my breath, I ruffled her hair and gently untangled her from me.


    ¡°Archmage Emberus! I awaited your return, but you never came! Even after you eradicated the beast¡¯s lair! Then knights arrived to transport my father¡¯s goods, but you were absent¡­ I feared you were evading me!¡±¡°Evade you? Lana, that would be impossible. After all your kindness? There''s also the unfinished business with your father to consider.¡±¡°Still¡­I did so little¡­ You are the one who assisted me.¡±In truth, Lana¡¯s perspective was more accurate. However, she was the first true contact I made in Dravus, and the trust we built was a cherished memory. My first interactions with the likes of Karyon and his bandits hardly counted.


    ¡°Master Archmage¡­ The depth of our gratitude for your deeds is immeasurable¡­¡±¡°Our young mistress has been expectantly glancing at the gate each time we journey beyond it, awaiting your return.¡±Behind Lana stood a middle-aged couple, presumably her guardians. Both of them bowed deeply in gratitude.


    ¡°I assure you, it was no inconvenience at all. Please, think nothing of it.¡±¡°Our residence is on Commerce Street. My father will be overjoyed to see you. Let¡¯s proceed!¡± Lana tugged on my arm but was halted by Eryn.¡°Pardon me, Lana, but we have pressing matters to attend to,¡± Eryn interjected.¡°Understood. We''ll see you later, then,¡± Lana returned, undeterred. ¡°Come, Archmage Emberus.¡±


    "Did she just say ''we''?!" Eryn''s voice cracked, an assertive hand clamping onto my other arm and yanking me in a contrary direction.My mind whirled, what was unfolding before me? Two youthful women, both radiant in their own ways, engaged in a tug-of-war over me?I took a steadying breath, attempted to make sense of the situation. Lana''s bond with me, she''s young, it could be the same affection a child holds for a mentor or a close family member. As for Eryn, her determination was steered by responsibility, ensuring I''d reach the weavers'' Guild in due course. If I were to read more into her intentions, perhaps she viewed me as a fellow warrior, given our shared trials...


    Now, I''ve seen it happen more times than I care to admit; middle-aged men misconstruing such situations as being the center of female attention, the "ladies'' man." But I was not about to be ensnared in such a folly.


    "Erm¡­ Lana?" I stammered, attempting to regain some semblance of control. "I have kept the weavers'' Guild waiting for far too long. It''s best to confront the grueling tasks first. Would it be alright if I stopped by later?"


    It was vital to prioritize my commitments.


    "Oh," Lana''s eyes reflected her disappointment. "You must have something very important to do, then?"


    "It''s...complicated. But once it''s done, I promise to stop by. Just tell your father I''ll be visiting, alright?"


    Lana''s face lit up, her childlike enthusiasm unfaltering. "Our house is the largest on Commerce Street, you can''t miss it. I''ll be eagerly waiting for you!"


    Lana''s curtsey was followed by her skipping away, the two servants close behind, heads bowed in respect. By then, the throng had dwindled significantly, aided by a diligent guard who returned to his post only after offering one last nugget of information. "Your tales of heroism are being spun into songs by our bards, Archmage!" This was something I could have done without...


    "I''d rather not garner any more attention..." I mumbled, still slightly taken aback by the encounter with Lana. "Yet I didn''t expect to meet her again so soon."


    "How fortunate for you..." Eryn''s voice bore a hint of a growl, a vein pulsing at her temple.


    "Apologies. We should proceed to the weavers'' Guild," I quickly added, noting Eryn''s dwindling patience.


    "Yes, let''s tackle the... what did you call it? The worst part. Lead the way, my lord Archmage."


    "I said I''m sorry..."


    Vandaris was a city of ornate beauty, the stone-paved roads clean and pleasing underfoot, with some even boasting intricate mosaic designs. The towering wooden and stone buildings, a testament to the limited lateral expansion of a walled city. This architectural familiarity mirrored the medieval cities I''d read about during my tabletop RPG days. The bustling streets teemed with brightly dressed denizens, none barefoot, their attire a blend of simplicity and elegance.


    Eryn seemed a popular figure, people waved or respectfully bowed as we passed. It struck me then that she had mentioned being of noble birth...


    A shiver ran down my spine as an unsettling thought suddenly hit me. I swiftly surveyed the upper windows and rooftops, hoping my fears were unfounded.


    "What''s got into you?" Eryn''s question broke my concentration.


    "Just... I heard that in big cities like this, people throw their...waste...out of the windows."


    "WHAT?!"


    Luckily, Eryn assured me that Vandaris, like most large cities, was equipped with a sewer system, and some parts even had proper plumbing, thanks to the city''s access to fresh water.


    "Are they aiming to be the Rome of this world or something?" I muttered to myself.


    Differences between medieval Europe and Dravus were to be expected. After all, a more Tolkienesque world was more in line with what God had alluded to...


    "By the way," I ventured, "how big is the city''s population?"


    "The last I checked the records, around twenty-five thousand citizens were registered... But if you include non-citizens, the population could be between thirty to forty thousand."


    A city of forty thousand! This truly is a sprawling metropolis! With even a few cities this size, it''s evident that Dravus has advanced further than medieval Europe. And to think, the fiends'' nest was merely a few days'' journey from here... The magnitude of the potential disaster we had averted was overwhelming.

 Weavers

    "At last, we have arrived," Eryn announced.


    We halted in front of a grand edifice that stood defiantly among the surrounding structures and the bustling streets near the central square. The building was an amalgamation of a mansion and a miniature castle, ensconced behind a formidable fence adorned with a crest of five needles. The nearby sign declared it to be the "Weavers'' Guild: Vandaris Branch."


    "It is I, Eryn Marion, fifth seat of the branch," she stated with authority.


    The guard acknowledged her presence promptly. "Yes, ma''am. We have been expecting you," he replied, unlocking the gate. His attire marked him as distinct from the city''s entrance guards.


    Escorted inside, we were treated with deference, a clear indication that they were well-informed of my identity. After a brief wait, a servant guided us to a chamber where the guild''s officers awaited.


    "This way," she said.


    As we entered the spacious, oval-shaped hall on the building''s highest floor, I marveled at the dark hues that dominated the room, emphasizing its imposing atmosphere. Stained glass windows adorned the domed ceiling, and tapestries depicting intricate designs akin to magical weaves adorned the walls.


    Three weavers occupied the round table at the center, and the one in the middle rose to greet us.


    "Welcome to the Weavers'' Guild. I am Henric Saran, president and first seat of the Vandaris Branch," he introduced himself.


    Henric, an attractive man in his mid-thirties with combed-back blond hair and a decorated robe, exuded confidence and a social air, akin to a young president of a successful venture capital firm during an IPO. He seemed to think highly of himself, which was quite evident in his demeanor.


    "I am the Archmage, Emberus Blazeus Zandros, from Castle Ameria. It is an honor to be invited to your establishment," I replied, maintaining a standard introduction. The comforting notion of having a fixed address like Castle Ameria did wonders for my sense of stability.


    "The honor is ours," chimed in the man to Henric''s right, rising from his seat. "Likewise, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," added the woman to his left, following suit.


    Yorick, the vice president and second seat, and Nalina, the third seat, presented themselves with a mix of politeness and apprehension. They both had a certain steely nervousness in their expressions, while Eryn remained unfazed.


    "Please, take a seat," Henric gestured, and I sat down across from them. Eryn moved to the other end of the table, next to Nalina.


    As I seated myself in the ornate wooden chair, I couldn''t help but observe my companions. Henric was the only one who seemed truly at ease, while Yorick and Nalina appeared visibly tense.


    "I heard you have come from a distant land. How do you find Vandaris thus far?" Henric inquired, initiating the conversation with small talk.


    "The architecture is splendid, and the people are lively. It''s a good city in my opinion," I replied.


    Henric seemed intent on engaging in polite banter before delving into more substantial matters, which indicated that he was not solely preoccupied with his own research¡ªa positive sign.


    "Well, I hope you thoroughly enjoy the sight of Vandaris''s famous network of canals and sluice gates and take the opportunity to witness one of the city''s boat dances," he continued.


    "Thank you for the recommendation," I replied, intrigued by the prospect of watching boat dances.


    "President, perhaps we should proceed with the main agenda," Yorick whispered to Henric.


    "Yes, you''re right," Henric concurred, and the inconsequential chatter ceased. It appeared that Yorick served as a reminder for Henric to focus on important matters, which might be valuable for the guild''s organizational structure.


    "As of now, all we can confirm with our own eyes about you is that you have no mana reserves. However, reports from the Adamant Knights, the Vandaris Adventurers'' Guild, and Eryn suggest that you possess a grand form of weaving capable of obliterating an entire legion of fiends," Henric stated with a hint of irritation.


    Albert and Petr did mention the city council and the Adventurers'' Guild, respectively. The fact that Henric was aware of their reports implied some level of information sharing within the city.


    "The mere suggestion that there exists another form of weaving, which follows a different set of rules than the ones we know, is astonishing to us," Henric added.


    "I could say the same. From my perspective, my magic is the norm, and weaving is the astonishingly foreign technique," I retorted.


    Henric, clearly suspicious, seemed to be testing my willingness to cooperate and the veracity of my claims. I made every effort to appear accommodating and alleviate their concerns, with the hope of fostering a collaborative relationship.


    "We would appreciate your assistance in understanding weaving better. In exchange, I shall offer as much information as I can about mage magic," I proposed.


    Henric and the other weavers remained cautious, but they seemed willing to entertain the notion. Nalina even hesitantly asked if I could create dragons and fiends out of nothing.


    "Hmm¡­ Very well," I agreed.


    In the grand hall, I started casting the spell, garnering murmurs of surprise from the weavers. Unlike traditional magic that required complex incantations, weaving demanded simplicity¡ªa single phrase that might have appeared foreign to them.


    Yorick held a crystalline medallion, purportedly sensitive to mana, as if to gauge my abilities. However, nothing seemed to register on the device. Their expressions wavered between suspicion, interest, and scorn, except for Eryn, who stared daggers at those who doubted me.


    "As a consequence of this spell, I shall summon a baby red dragon under my command for thirty minutes. Summon Monster," I invoked, channeling Arcane energy into a crimson flow spiraling at the center of the hall.


    The weavers gasped and stared in awe at the red spiral, as the dragon began taking shape before their eyes. Crimson scales covered its body, and its reptilian head bore sinister eyes and vicious teeth. The dragon was a hatchling, the size of a bull, an appropriate manifestation given the space and location.


    "Gyahr!" the dragon roared.


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    I could sense their fear and fascination as they beheld the creature I summoned. Yet, after roaring, the dragon obediently laid itself down on the floor, a display of submission to my command.


    Henric, with his staff ready, and Yorick, who had fallen back in fear, were in a state of shock. Nalina had taken refuge under the table.


    Eryn had observed the situation quietly but had finally had enough. "You all are disgraceful!" she berated them.


    Eryn''s outburst spurred the weavers to react and regain their composure. They were quick to reassure me of their belief in my magic''s authenticity.


    "Can that dragon¡­do anything?" Henric asked with hesitation.


    I couldn''t help but feel exasperated. Was showing them a real dragon not enough? Did they expect me to perform more?


    "Don''t worry. It''s real. See?" I asserted.


    The dragon, following my telepathic command, spread its wings wide and breathed a


    fiery blast that filled the hall with heat. I ensured it didn''t harm anyone, but the spectacle overwhelmed the weavers.


    Henric, Yorick, and Nalina were on the brink of panic. Eryn and I remained calm, but the situation had become tense.


    "That''s enough! You''ve convinced us your magic is real," Henric said, trying to regain control.


    Apologizing for my unintentional display, I dispelled the dragon, hoping they would now see the potential of my unique abilities.


    The crimson wyrm dissolved into the nothingness, leaving behind only the heavy memory of its presence. Once its image faded, a collective exhale echoed from the group of weavers.


    A palpable unease hung in the air as they attempted to regain composure. Chairs were righted, tea was sipped with trembling hands, yet the weight of the moment was evident in the deep creases of concern on their faces. Henric, usually the epitome of confidence, looked as if he had been confronted with a ghost from his past. Yorick and Nalina, wide-eyed, seemed trapped between awe and trepidation. Only Eryn stood unaffected, her steady gaze locked on me.


    Had I been too theatrical? A silent lament circled in my thoughts.


    "My apologies for the display," I began, trying to bridge the gap. "Are you now persuaded of the authenticity of magery?"


    Externally, I projected an image of cool confidence, but internally I chastised myself for the rashness of my demonstration.


    Henric, taking a moment to find his voice, responded, "Yes, indeed. Your artistry is... beyond words. We were wrong to doubt, and for that, I seek forgiveness."


    I nodded, appreciative of his gesture. "Thank you for seeing reason. It''s not easy admitting one''s misjudgment."


    The room, though still charged, began to shift. The initial shock was waning.


    A little later...


    "Fascinating... To think such an arcane talent lay hidden."


    "So, this ''Aether Strand'' or ''mana fibers'' you speak of..."


    In the time that followed, I described the foundations of the magical system, albeit simplifying certain complexities. I tactfully omitted the intricacies of spell preparations. The mechanics of my magical abilities were, after all, rooted in a game from another lifetime.


    Eryn, always sharp, synthesized the conversation. "So, the mana we''re accustomed to exists externally, in nature and within us. Yet, Lord Xandros draws his power from the Arcane directly?"


    Precisely my struggle¡ªusing one term for dual meanings. "For clarity," I suggested, "let''s use ''magical power'' to denote my energy."


    Henric''s gaze became distant, contemplative. "Imagine harnessing such ''magical power''. The potential..."


    "But the mastery," Yorick interjected, "seems a lifetime''s pursuit."


    Nalina, ever the dreamer, pondered, "Could one blend both forms, I wonder?"


    Their conversations diverged into multiple threads, each weaving their own tapestry of ideas. Sensing my cue, I prepared my departure from the council of weavers.


    ¡°President Sylem,¡± I began, my tone measured, ¡°My aspiration is to cultivate a harmonious alliance with your guild, treating us as equal entities.¡±


    Sylem hesitated, his eyes darting away. "I value your overture, but..."


    Henric''s thoughts were veiled, but his hesitance was palpable. Pushing him into this arrangement would surely strain relations, I reckoned.


    Before he could find the words, I interjected, "You needn''t provide an answer immediately."


    His eyes flitted back, a mingling of gratitude and surprise. ¡°Your brand of magic is no doubt a revelation for traditionalists like us,¡± I continued, ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s wise to deliberate amongst yourselves. Should you have queries, beckon me and I shall elucidate.¡±


    I might have upended their worldview, I mused. A respite to reassess might be apt. A solitary conclave couldn¡¯t resolve such profound intricacies.


    Eryn, ever the voice of reason, chimed in, ¡°Indeed, President. Let¡¯s absorb this newfound knowledge and consult our peers.¡±


    Straightening his stance, Sylem finally met my gaze. ¡°My apologies, Lord Xandros. Your understanding is appreciated.¡±


    Exiting the chamber, I overheard the murmur of weavers. ¡°¡®A bolt out of the blue¡¯? What curious vernacular.¡± ¡°Perhaps a mage¡¯s parlance?¡±


    Feeling a twinge of frustration, I remarked, ¡°It seems the weavers¡¯ guild won¡¯t be my sanctuary tonight.¡±


    Eryn, with a hint of playful chiding, responded, ¡°A difficult lodgment, given recent revelations.¡±


    Concern flickered within me. ¡°I hope my actions haven¡¯t marred your standing.¡±


    A cheeky grin formed on Eryn¡¯s lips. ¡°Well, a confession of fraudulent magic might aid my cause.¡±


    Her jest and my understanding of her innate valor told me she was merely breaking the tension. ¡°If it shields your reputation, maybe I should confess.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Such a jester.¡±


    As our levity subsided, Eryn''s tone grew somber. "I empathize with Henric¡¯s turmoil. I took up weaving in the wake of a fiends onslaught a decade ago, seeking the strength to defend Vandaris."


    Her grip tightened as she added, ¡°Henric and I, we''ve both harnessed weaving to ward off fiends, but his ambition is more specific¡ªto emerge a hero. My dread is seeing your magic overshadow our achievements. Henric¡¯s is to see the status he carved be upended by you.¡±


    Chastising myself internally, I contemplated the parallels with struggles I knew from America.


    Searching for words of solace, I posited, ¡°I believe that no external force can negate your accomplishments or the gratitude of those you¡¯ve shielded.¡±


    Caught in our shared introspection, Eryn¡¯s retort was almost a whisper. ¡°Yet the dilemma remains.¡±


    I delved into memory. ¡°Recall the nest encounter. Your wind weaving shielded me. My magic pales in comparison.¡±


    She looked stunned, then veiled her face. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll concede this once. But don¡¯t make it habitual.¡±


    Our banter faded as I hesitated, recalling my pending rendezvous with Lana. ¡°About that, I¡¯m rather... directionally challenged here.¡±


    She huffed in exasperation. ¡°We must hurry before the districts seal their gates at sunset.¡±


    Guided by Eryn''s brisk pace, I absorbed the tapestry of Vandaris¡ªits vibrant markets, artisans mentoring apprentices, joyous children, and somber beggars.


    The cityscape evolved as dusk settled, lanterns illuminating the streets. The canals showcased a unique spectacle.


    ¡°Is that Henric¡¯s renowned boat dance?¡± I queried.


    Eryn nodded. ¡°Indeed.¡±


    Watching the floating parade, captivated by its splendor, I realized Vandaris had much to offer, and hoped to bridge the gap between its traditions and my alien magic.


    Paper Lanterns flickered on the stage, reminiscent of the ethereal glow common in the distant lands of Asia. Dancers in red and white silk seemed to float, their garments flowing with each graceful move. The sounds of music wafted from boats nearby; light notes masking a deeper, melancholic tone. When the dancers twirled together, it reminded me of the distant glow of the city lights.


    ¡°The beauty is unmatched, yet there''s an undertone of somberness,¡± I remarked, lost in the spectacle.


    Eryn''s eyes, usually so fiery, bore a softer, sadder sheen. ¡°It¡¯s a requiem. A dance for those lost to the fiends,¡± she murmured.


    A heavy silence settled between us. I remembered our journey, the vast landscapes, the dangers, the camaraderie. A world of vibrant life and brutal death.


    She gestured toward a monument, worn but dignified, marking the site of a brave last stand. ¡°Vandaris faced the fiend onslaught a decade ago,¡± Eryn¡¯s voice held reverence.


    Examining the monument, I murmured an old Baptist prayer. Eryn watched, her expression a mix of curiosity and respect.


    ¡°The customs might differ, but the sentiment remains,¡± I remarked.


    The road ahead led us to Commerce Street, marked by the colorful banners of bustling shops. ¡°There,¡± Eryn pointed, ¡°Lana¡¯s dwelling.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t keep you any longer,¡± I began, but there was gratitude I needed to convey. ¡°Eryn, thank you.¡±


    She played with a strand of her hair, clearly trying to deflect the sentiment. ¡°I merely pointed out a path, nothing more.¡±


    ¡°And yet, it was invaluable. Truly, thank you.¡±


    A smirk. ¡°The famed Archmage, indebted to me? A rare privilege.¡±


    I chuckled, appreciating her attempt at levity. ¡°My title may seem grand, but it¡¯s a guise. Underneath, I¡¯m just¡­ me.¡±


    Eryn¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Beneath the Archmage¡¯s cloak, I see someone genuine. In our world, every day is a gift, every moment uncertain. If there¡¯s a hero who can defy that darkness, perhaps it''s you.¡±


    She paused, her gaze locking with mine, a deep well of emotion and resolve. ¡°Wherever your path leads, I believe it will be right. Whether I can walk it with you¡­ only time will tell.¡±


    A heavy silence settled. Eryn gave a small nod, her face a mask once more. ¡°Good night.¡± And she vanished into the night.

 An Evening of Gratitude

    As I strode into the entryway of the house, the grandeur was unmistakable. The entire first level bore the marks of Leo''s many commercial engagements, the grand hallways more resembling the marketplace corridors of Kharbranth than a private residence. Ascending, the upper floors presented a different picture, one of family and private life.


    ¡°Ah, my friend! Once again, our paths converge," Leo exclaimed, enveloping me in a warm greeting.


    Lana, standing a few steps away, smiled playfully. ¡°My Lord Emberus, pray indulge to your heart¡¯s content.¡±


    Their gratitude was evident. Not only from their words, but the grand feast spread out before me. Each dish painstakingly prepared, with Lana having a hand in many. It was a banquet worthy of the Brightlords of Alethkar.


    ¡°As I¡¯ve often said,¡± I began, taking a sip of wine, ¡°I am only grateful to see you both returned safely.¡±


    ¡°It is a debt of honor,¡± Leo responded, raising his glass, ¡°A debt I look to repay.¡±


    The conversation turned towards the transaction with the Adamant Knights, a deal I had facilitated. Lana, ever spirited, interjected, ¡°And it was supposed to be a joint venture, remember?¡±


    Before the conversation could deviate, Leo produced a hefty pouch. ¡°Three thousand in gold, just as promised,¡± he declared.


    I hesitated, feeling the weight of the gold and the debt it represented. ¡°Rather than this, Leo, I have a different task in mind. I have recently taken over the fortress in the mountains, and its vast halls need capable hands.¡±


    Leo''s brow furrowed thoughtfully. ¡°You mean to hire staff? Pull from the sum for their wages?¡±


    ¡°Precisely,¡± I affirmed, ¡°I need trustworthy souls, those skilled in both household management and self-defense.¡±


    Understanding dawned on Leo''s face. ¡°Consider it done.¡±


    As the evening wore on, and the wine flowed more liberally, Leo transformed. Gone was the shrewd merchant, replaced by an exuberant storyteller.


    ¡°Ha! The boat dance! If not now, when?¡± he laughed, his voice slurred.


    Lana, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, whispered, ¡°My apologies, Lord Emberus. He is not usually this¡­ unrestrained.¡±


    ¡°Worry not, young Lana,¡± I reassured her, ¡°In vino veritas, as they say.¡±


    By the time the night was drawing to a close, Leo had been all but carried to his chambers. I could hear his muffled snores through the ornate doors.


    Lana, clearing the table, whispered her thanks. ¡°For all you¡¯ve done, and for tolerating tonight.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, amused. ¡°Lana, it¡¯s hardly the worst dinner I¡¯ve ever attended.¡±


    She blushed. ¡°But, Lord Emberus, you¡¯ve faced down bandits and Fiends! Compared to that, I imagine our humble feast was rather dull.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± I chuckled, ¡°But there is a certain charm in such evenings.¡±


    Lana seemed to hesitate, then, with a burst of courage, declared, ¡°Even if you''re just a regular man underneath, you''ve done extraordinary things.¡±


    I grinned, touched by her words. ¡°And on that note, good night, Lana.¡±


    She nodded, a final, grateful smile gracing her lips as she exited, leaving me to reflect on an evening both ordinary and extraordinary.


    The chamber was steeped in stillness, echoing with a solemn gravity.


    This strength, I pondered, surely doesn¡¯t belong to me. It would be hubris to believe that it rendered me remarkable or potent. Ever since my journey began in Dravus, the citizens hailed me, an undeserved adulation. While it wasn¡¯t unpleasant, a lingering remorse for embracing what wasn¡¯t truly mine haunted my psyche. If I chose to don this facade, this emotion might shadow my every step.


    But does an unearned gift necessarily mean I should refrain from wielding it for the greater good? Lana had once mused that even someone as ordinary as I could become a beacon for the lost.


    ***


    The vast dining hall echoed with my solitary presence. The remnants of the evening¡¯s lively banquet faded into a serene solitude. I sipped the water Lana had graciously provided, a delightful hint of tang, reminiscent of fresh fruit, caressed my tongue.


    ¡°Despite the myriad challenges this land has thrown my way, there is an undeniable charm about Dravus,¡± I murmured to the emptiness.


    My journey through Dravus, or perhaps rebirth within its embrace? The memory of my demise remained poignant. My time here was brief, yet bonds had begun to form, tethering me to its pulse. Yes, it bore its brutalities¡ªnemeses like Karyon, malevolent beasts known as Fiends. But juxtaposed was a world of rich culture, endearing souls, and a sense of kinship.


    ¡°To reinvent one¡¯s existence at this juncture of life is no simple task,¡± I muttered with a hint of jest. The romanticism of the phrase "I am the protector of Dravus" may have a poetic appeal, but its weight was monumental for someone accustomed to monotony.


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    ¡°If my intentions are genuine about purging the Fiendish scourge, collaboration is key. Ideally, finding the root of their inception to eliminate the menace for eternity¡­¡±


    The Dravians have battled the Fiends for centuries, with victory elusive. But perhaps, an outsider armed with arcane might, uniting with their spirit, might shift the scales?


    Drawing a deep breath, I rallied, ¡°Very well, then. Challenge accepted.¡± Retirement, it seemed, would remain a distant dream. For now, I resolved to ascend as a genuine archmage.


    Awakening the next morn, I braced for the aftermath of revelry. To my astonishment, I felt rejuvenated, perhaps a testament to Emberus''s robust constitution, which in stark contrast, overshadowed my former frailty.


    ¡°Lana, your culinary prowess is unparalleled,¡± I praised as I savored my breakfast.


    Her laughter rang like a merry chime. ¡°You truly believe so?¡±


    As the nourishment warmed my core, a newfound vigor swelled within, crystallizing my purpose.


    Yet, in the midst of this serenity, Lana bore a contemplative demeanor. ¡°Many sought your audience this morning,¡± she remarked.


    In solitude, I crystallized my mission: to shield Dravus from the Fiendish plague. Not in my wildest dreams did I believe I could singlehandedly resolve all the world''s crises. Thus, my efforts would be laser-focused on eradicating the Fiends.


    The mere thought of these abominations ignited a primal urge within me to rid the world of their menace. But the how remained elusive. To sustain constant vigilance was resource-intensive, an insight gleaned from the tribulations of the Adamant Knights.


    Two potential strategies dawned: forging alliances, blending the strengths of nations against Fiends or establishing an autonomous force dedicated solely to their eradication.


    This contemplation, however, was interrupted by Leo''s arrival.


    ¡°My Lord Archmage, I must apologize for last evening¡¯s indulgences. Do you have plans?¡±


    Despite his previous night¡¯s excesses, Leo appeared remarkably composed.


    ¡°As a matter of fact, I seek your assistance,¡± I began, outlining my intentions and vision for Dravus.


    Understanding dawning, Leo responded, ¡°The word of your presence has spread like wildfire. We''ve been inundated with envoys from guilds, the church, even nobility. They all yearn for an introduction to the Archmage.¡±


    Leo''s tone was somber, his features sharpened by concern. ¡°There¡¯s an underlying tension in the city, my lord. Every whisper, every sideways glance in your direction carries with it a weight of expectation.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± I murmured. My gaze wandered through the window, catching the briefest reflection of a shadowy figure passing by. ¡°You think they¡¯re watching?¡±


    Leo nodded, the candlelight casting wavering shadows over his brow. ¡°Indeed. There are eyes and ears everywhere, and not all belong to the city¡¯s nobility.¡±


    A moment of silence passed between us, broken only by the crackling fire. I remembered the awe and trepidation in the eyes of the townsfolk, the way they spoke in hushed whispers about the new ''Archmage''. The sensation of being watched was palpable now, more than it had ever been.


    I adjusted the high-collared cloak around my shoulders, the intricate runes embroidered upon it shimmering. ¡°So, what do we do?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve made arrangements,¡± Leo began, his voice steady and reassuring. ¡°Guards for your protection, discreet but effective. They¡¯ll be with you by morning.¡±


    I considered this, nodding slowly. The prospect of guards was both comforting and disconcerting. In my previous life, the closest thing I had to a guard was a locked office door. But times were different now, and the weight of responsibility and power hung heavy upon me.


    I found solace in my newfound abilities, the raw magical energy coursing through me. It was an anchor, a weapon, and a shield. And as I gazed into the depths of the fire, thoughts of the Fiends, the city¡¯s expectations, and my own destiny intertwined, forging a path forward.


    Tomorrow would be a new day. A day of meetings, politics, and perhaps, a step closer to unraveling the mysteries of this world. But for now, I needed rest.


    ¡°Thank you, Leo,¡± I said, my voice soft with gratitude. ¡°For everything.¡±


    He smiled, a genuine expression of warmth and loyalty. ¡°It¡¯s my honor, Lord Xandros. Rest well. Tomorrow awaits.¡±


    ¡°Hesitation nestled in my chest, thoughts swirling like a storm in the distance. ¡°I believe it wise not to stir those slumbering shadows or challenge the denizens of the city,¡± I confided. ¡°I regard myself as an ally to this great city, and I¡¯ll make that resoundingly clear when I parley with the chairman of the city council on the morrow. With such clarity, we should be free from lurking dangers.¡±


    Yet if shadows still dogged my steps after this declaration, it would testify to their malevolent intent. A foe in human guise¡­ It was an unsettling thought.


    ¡°Mister Emberus, do you waver?¡± The concern in the voice pulled me from my reflections.


    I met their gaze with a weary smile. ¡°Your worries should not be for me. My fears gravitate towards both of you. Promise me you¡¯ll safeguard yourselves. That alone would ease my burdened heart.¡±


    ¡°Without hesitation,¡± Leo vowed, conviction shining in his eyes.


    Danger lurking for Leo and Lana was a chilling thought that echoed in the silence. With the rising sun painting the room in golden hues, Lana presented breakfast to me, a gesture that had become a comforting routine. As the aroma wafted around, memories of the prior day intertwined with the promises of today.


    How might the citizens perceive my sudden emergence? A stranger, potent enough to vanquish a horde of Fiends and their lair, now walked amidst them. Surely, they would question my purpose, especially those who held the city¡¯s reins.


    So it seemed inevitable that Leo would be inundated with missives, demanding my audience. Those with influence would undoubtedly thirst for tidbits of my actions. Such renown was uncharted territory for me, and any clandestine dealings would only stoke the fires of doubt.


    How then, to quell these murmurs and establish my peaceful intent?


    Gathering my thoughts, I sought Leo¡¯s counsel. ¡°After much rumination, here¡¯s where my mind stands. Your insights?¡±


    Leo, always measured in his response, nodded. ¡°As you¡¯ve outlined. I truly doubt any soul here would dare invoke your ire. While my caution still stands, perhaps it¡¯s not worth sounding the alarms too loudly.¡±


    Lana¡¯s expression clouded with concern. ¡°But the notion of prying eyes and concealed motives¡­ It''s unsettling.¡±


    Her words stirred a premonition within me, reminiscent of the games I¡¯d once played: a forewarning of things to come.


    ¡°To ensure peace of mind,¡± I began, producing a gleaming silver ring and a cloak tinted the shade of fresh spring leaves, ¡°I bequeath these to you.¡±


    The moment Lana draped the cloak over her shoulders, she faded from existence. A hushed gasp filled the room. The Unseen Cloak, a gem from the tales of T&T, bestowed invisibility upon its wearer.


    ¡°You remain amongst us, Lana. The cloak merely shrouds you from sight,¡± I reassured.


    As she reappeared, Leo gazed at the ring, awe evident. ¡°These artifacts, they¡¯re things of legends, treasures that rival a kingdom¡¯s pride. We are humbled by your trust.¡±


    A nod was all I offered, ¡°Your friendship is invaluable. Leo, the ring summons a being that will grant three wishes, but tread carefully, its power isn¡¯t boundless.¡±


    As Leo held the ring reverently, and Lana gave a graceful curtsy, I called upon Invisible Demons. Their silent vigil was another layer of protection. They had but one mandate: guard against harm befalling Leo and Lana.


    Perhaps it was an excess, akin to summoning a battalion for a lone sentinel¡¯s duty. Yet, I''d rather be accused of excess caution than face the pangs of regret.


    Ensuring their safety, I invoked similar protective measures for myself, mentally earmarking the trio of spells I¡¯d keep close at hand in the days to come.

 Cats and mice and sheep

    As the orange hues of sunset dimmed, my carriage made its way to the monumental Vandaris City Hall, the heart of this vibrant metropolis. From the window, the city buzzed with a rhythm that hinted at its intricate history. Thoughts of my conversation with Leo stirred within me, and I recollected tales of the once-great Lumeos Kingdom by the shores of the fabled Lake Lumeos.


    It had once been the Empire''s vassal, but fortunes shifted in the wake of its fall to civil unrest. Vandaris rose from those ashes, sculpted by the ambitions of influential merchants and nobles. Their combined will birthed a unique governance¡ªa council of trade masters and nobles like Eryn¡¯s uncle, Duke Marion. Like any center of power, it was a stage for continuous power struggles.


    Zarn Budow, the distinguished leader of the Merchants'' guild, was my primary contact. Leo''s praises had painted a promising picture of the man, but I couldn''t dismiss the possibility of bias given their shared affiliations. Regardless, my aim was to position myself as a benign or, preferably, beneficial entity for the city''s cause, and Budow was key to this endeavor.


    My reflections were interrupted as the carriage drew to a stop before City Hall, a towering edifice flanked by statues¡ªrepresenting both the deity of commerce and Alezshara, the winter goddess. As I descended, an attendant greeted me with poise. "Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros, you honor us. Follow me."


    The doors to the reception chamber opened to reveal Zarn Budow. His regal bearing was accentuated by a beard that spoke of wisdom. His eyes locked onto mine as he extended a firm hand, equal parts greeting and challenge. "Apologies for the abruptness, Archmage. It''s crucial we speak."


    As we engaged in cordialities, I felt the weight of his formidable presence, reminiscent of military leaders I''d encountered, yet unique in its blend of economic and political savvy. I had to constantly reaffirm my status, remembering the stories of my own power and prowess.


    Our conversation, steeped in politeness, drifted from my contributions against the fiends to the arts of local trade. Suddenly, a maiden, straight from the tales of old-world Europe, graced the room with tea. I couldn''t help but be captivated. Budow noticed, suggesting that if I needed such a servant, he could assist. Politely declining, I sought to return to the topic at hand.


    As we navigated the political landscape, each sipping the exotic tea, an alarming change overcame Budow. His vigor drained, replaced by pallor and then sudden distress. My heart raced. Poison? My gaze darted around, searching for the maid, but she had vanished. Budow''s weakening form became the sole focus of my concern.


    "Zarn!" I called out, rushing to him. The implications were clear: treachery was at work.


    Chairman Budow, previously the master of the dialogue, now convulsed, a shade of cerulean overtaking his complexion. For a brief, disoriented moment, I felt like I was a part of some epic saga, perhaps akin to the tales of Westeros. But my rational mind quickly pierced the fog. There was only one reasonable explanation for this: poison. A window stood agape, hinting at the escape route of the possible perpetrator¡ªa maid, I suspected.


    Budow''s agonized sounds continued to pierce the room.


    ¡°You... okay?¡± The words spilled out, almost instinctive, even though their absurdity hung heavy in the air.


    Moving quickly, I hoisted Budow, trying to avert any danger of him choking on his own distress. But then a chilling realization hit me. Hadn¡¯t I partaken of the same tea?


    ¡°Lord Xandros, are you unscathed?¡± A voice from the shadow queried.


    ¡°Remarkably, yes. Could it be my inherent resilience to toxins?¡± I mused, drawing upon my knowledge of T&T, where a character''s defense against poison strengthens with experience. By level 20, one was nearly invulnerable to most toxins. It wasn''t the most glamorous of skills, but in moments like these, it was invaluable.


    From the doorway, the sharp cry of Budow¡¯s aide pierced the room. "Chairman Budow?!"


    Ah, I mused, from the aide''s perspective, this must seem a dire tableau.


    Fighting for air, Budow managed, ¡°Stay back! Do not approach!¡± His eyes, now filled with terror, locked onto mine. ¡°Lord Xandros¡­ We are in some perilous game¡­¡±


    With swift confidence, I told him, "Fear not. Let me tend to your wounds."


    Budow¡¯s mumbled response seemed to underscore his belief in the innate goodness of the people of Vandaris. "They would never wish harm upon you... Heal me?"


    It became glaringly apparent that Budow feared retaliation¡ªa cataclysmic retribution on his city, given the power I wielded. Reaching into my Bag of Holding, I produced an Anti-Toxin and administered it. As the vibrant color returned to Budow¡¯s face, he managed to express astonishment at my preparedness.


    Barely recovered, he issued a clarion call to his aide, "She must be found! The imposter who sought to end us!"


    The subsequent events were a whirlwind of apologies from Budow, the mounting realization of the assassin''s skills, and the underlying political machinations at play. Whoever had orchestrated this, I reflected, intended not only to kill but to sow discord.


    While I had no desire to become embroiled in the politics of Vandaris, the very act of targeting me implied that those dear to me, like Leo and Lana, could be in jeopardy. For their sake, I would wade into the murky depths of this intrigue.


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    The need to unmask the would-be killer was burning within me¡ªthe pretender draped in maid''s robes. But the arcane energy I had called upon this dawn had been woven with defense in mind. None of the spells I held at my fingertips would help in tracking a shadowy assailant.


    I glanced towards Budow, my reluctant ally in this moment. "I''ll cede the sleuthing to you, Budow. But any shard of discovery, I expect it shared."


    "Rest assured," he replied, tone icy and formal. "You shall be the first to hear."


    It was then, amidst the spiraling chaos, that I felt the taut threads of control. Thoughts of Leo and Lana, potentially caught in this treacherous web, stoked the fires of my determination.


    "Budow," I murmured, "I must be off."


    He met my gaze, earnestness evident. "I regret the shadows that have fallen upon this day."


    For a fleeting moment, I sensed Budow wanted to weave more plans, more defenses. But I couldn¡¯t be anchored here. The safety of Leo and Lana, uncertain as the morning mist, compelled me to act.


    "Just one thing," I began hesitantly, "for purposes solely investigational...might I have that maid attire?"


    Without a word, Budow encased the garments in a simple box and handed them over. Such an unflinching facade, I mused, was the mark of a consummate professional.


    Outside the looming pillars of the city hall, my awaiting carriage beckoned. With practiced ease, I invoked two spells: Fly and Planeshift. A mere nod to the driver, and I transitioned to the spectral realm, soaring heavenwards.


    This spectral dance, unburdened by worldly barriers, allowed swiftness like no other.


    But where to begin? My mind''s eye fixed upon the Weavers¡¯ guild. My suspect list held one prominent name¡ªHenric Saran, the man atop Vandaris Weavers¡¯ guild''s echelons.


    Despite the spectral world''s advantages, I felt the weight of potential dangers. Perhaps the guild had defenses birthed from their weaving prowess? Regardless, formal channels would be futile against Henric if he indeed pulled these deadly strings.


    I materialized within Henric¡¯s sanctum, finding him ensnared in bureaucratic webs.


    "Lord Henric," I began, drawing his gaze. "A moment of your time."


    His surprise was palpable. "Xandros?! By the Cosmere! How...?"


    Gathering my thoughts, I pressed on. "It seems someone sought to end my tale prematurely."


    Henric''s eyes widened. "An attempt on your life? Preposterous!"


    Holding my arcane artifact, I cast Detect Enemy, seeking malice''s glow within Henric. But as his confusion deepened, it became clear¡ªHenric was oblivious.


    His innermost thoughts, laid bare by my artifact, echoed his innocence. Yet, they also held resentment. His vision of a fiend-free world, overshadowed by my abilities.


    Understanding dawned. "So, it¡¯s not you. Can you fathom who else might harbor such animosity?"


    Henric sighed. "Your reputation precedes you, Lord Xandros. Yet, only a fool or...a devotee of the fiends would dare."


    I felt a chill, memories of past confrontations looming. If Vandaris held remnants of these cultists, the implications were dire. Henric¡¯s recounting of their deeds and widespread influence only darkened the tapestry.


    Gratitude mingled with urgency. "I must depart, Lord Henric. Our talk was...illuminating."


    As I emerged onto Commerce Street, a premonition tugged at me. Fiction often told of loved ones in peril while the hero was diverted. The eerie silence, the fractured walls of Leo and Lana¡¯s home¡ªall pointed towards a dire reality.


    The shadows lengthened, and I prayed I was not too late.


    In the sweeping, majestic city of Dravus, shadows and light intertwined. The cobblestones echoed with the weight of history, and every twist and turn whispered tales of power and intrigue. It was amidst this landscape that I, Emberus Blazeus Xandros, found myself facing a tide of emotions and responsibilities.


    ¡°Lana! Leo!¡± I cried, my voice echoing through the ancient hallways.


    ¡°Master Emberus!¡± Lana''s voice broke the stillness.


    My heart swelled with relief upon seeing her, and she collided with me, the force of her embrace nearly knocking the wind out of me. Her body trembled, the chill of fear still present in her.


    ¡°Lana, by the Cosmere, are you unharmed? Where is Leo?¡± I inquired, my voice laced with a mix of urgency and concern.


    Suddenly, Leo emerged, looking every bit the lord of his domain, but the tension in his eyes revealed his recent ordeal. ¡°Lord Xandros,¡± he acknowledged with a curt nod.


    Relief washed over me, rendering me momentarily speechless. They were safe. My darkest fears, for the moment, were laid to rest. Together, we retreated to the opulence of the living quarters, seeking the warmth and comfort of familiar surroundings, as we recounted the events of the day.


    Leo, with the gravitas of a storyteller, spoke of the audacious break-in. Two women, seeking to abduct Lana, had infiltrated their sanctuary. Yet, as they endeavored to complete their vile task, one was ensnared by an unseen force¡ªLana''s invisible guardian, a testament to the powers I had imbued upon the household. This led to the awakening of Leo and his household forces. With the djinni summoned, the assailants faced an overwhelming force, and in their ensuing retreat, left marks of their desperation.


    ¡°I should have been here,¡± I murmured, the weight of my choices pressing down on me.


    ¡°You have done more than any could ask, Emberus,¡± Leo said, gratitude evident in his gaze. ¡°Had it not been for your guardians, things might have taken a far darker turn.¡±


    ¡°Yet, if they targeted you,¡± I began, my thoughts heavy, ¡°it¡¯s clear their quarrel is with me.¡±


    The world of Dravus was intricate, a mesh of politics, power, and hidden agendas. While the cultists were but one piece of the puzzle, Leo had heard whispers of their dark deeds, performed in the labyrinthine catacombs beneath the city.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Lana, ever the beacon of positivity, chimed in, ¡°You are not to blame, Master Emberus.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Leo added with a sage nod. ¡°We are but pawns in a larger game. But together, we stand stronger.¡±


    Holding Lana close, I contemplated the path before me. The life of a mage was fraught with choices and sacrifices. Yet, if I wielded such influence, I was determined to use it to protect those I held dear.


    Decisions weighed heavily on my mind as the morning sun graced the city of Dravus. Reflecting on my tools and resources, I was drawn to the maid outfit¡ªonce worn by our mysterious attacker. Using the spell, Legend Lore, I sought to glean insight from its memories. The ethereal vision of a drow assassin filled my mind. Her transformation was masterful, her deception nearly perfect.


    However, the intrusion of Lana¡¯s voice brought me back to reality, and I was left with the awkward task of explaining my unconventional methods.


    The day was young, and the Adventurers¡¯ guild beckoned. With Leo and Lana in tow, I sought to fortify our defenses and unravel the mysteries of Dravus. The guild, with its hierarchies and complexities, would be instrumental in our endeavors.


    ¡°Leo,¡± I began, as our carriage rumbled toward our destination, ¡°There are matters we must discuss regarding the guild.¡±


    In Dravus, the guild was not just a hub of adventurers but an institution, a bastion of power and information. It was here that I would set my plan into motion, drawing upon its vast resources to ensure the safety of those i cared for and uncover the shadows that sought to do us harm.


    In the sprawling city, where artisans and magicians mingled, the Adventurers¡¯ guild was not dissimilar to a carpenters¡¯ guild or even the leather workers who shaped hides. Such was the nature of hierarchy in this metropolis.


    ¡°All right, I think it¡¯s time we set our course,¡± I declared, a sense of urgency threading my voice.


    Lana hesitated for just a moment before murmuring, ¡°Aye.¡±


    Leo simply nodded, a resolute look on his face, ¡°Understood.¡±


    We settled into a carriage that soon merged with the bustling traffic of the main thoroughfares. Yet, our destination was a ruse. Shadows of yesterday''s encounters convinced me we were not alone in our moves; eyes, unseen but felt, followed. So, to befuddle any tails, I directed the coachman to lose himself in the city¡¯s maze. In this diversion, we employed the spell, *Move Spectral Plane*, to spirit us away from our carriage and directly towards our true destination.


    The Adventurers¡¯ guild, though easy enough to locate, presented an unassuming facade. Save for the emblem mounted over its entrance, it might''ve passed for any other guild. We had sent word of our arrival, so upon entering, we were promptly greeted by an elder, his status evident in his garb. ¡°Greetings, Lord Xandros. I am President Revishe, and assembled here are the distinguished leaders from our guild¡¯s elite parties.¡±


    The room was a study in concentration. Casting the *Identify* spell prior to our visit, I found myself privy to personal data floating above each individual. President Revishe¡¯s tag read: Human, Male, 65, Level 8 Rogue.


    Despite Dravus lacking a traditional leveling system, this data provided rough equivalents to the T&T game. It also tried to fit each individual into T&T¡¯s classes. My gaze settled on Petr, a man whose tag read Level 9 rogue but whose demeanor suggested shades of ranger and fighter. There were others too, whose power was evident, which brought some relief.


    The president must''ve briefed them about my proposition, I mused, bracing for the role I was to play.


    In a voice commanding but gentle, I began, ¡°I am Emberus Blazeus Xandros. I seek individuals of daring spirit and unwavering heart. The task I have is perilous, but I beseech your strength.¡±


    A voice dripping with skepticism cut through the chamber, ¡°Oh, you''re that sorcerer, aren¡¯t you? Why not showcase a little magic?¡±


    The audacious speaker was a young man, a blade twirling carelessly in his grip. The *Identify* spell marked him as one of the room¡¯s least experienced.


    Chatter erupted, some chastising the brash youth, while others seemed to challenge me with their piercing gaze. Observing President Revishe¡¯s silence, I sensed this was a test.


    Noting Petr¡¯s subtle nod of permission, I asked, ¡°A demonstration, then?¡±


    The youth retorted, ¡°Exactly, old-timer.¡±


    Perhaps it was the circumstances of recent events, the danger Leo and Lana faced, but my patience was thin. The room''s atmosphere, electric with anticipation, begged for a response.


    ¡°Very well,¡± I began, weaving the arcane threads, ¡°By virtue of my magic, I transform thee... Polymorph.¡±


    The arrogant leader''s cocky fa?ade vanished, replaced by wool and bleating. The room was hushed, save for the sheep''s confused baas.


    ¡°Apologies, I missed that last bit about meteors?¡±


    The assembly was a mix of shock and awe. The guild''s president, visibly shaken, managed a plea, ¡°Lord Wizard, forgive our ignorance.¡±


    The spell had made my point clear. Only three, including the ever-reliable Petr, stood their ground. Their *Identify* tags marked them as powerful entities, not easily cowed.


    The weight of my impulsive decision began to settle, ¡°Fear not, in due course, he shall revert,¡± I assured, hoping to ease the room''s tension.


    Petr, ever the diplomat, responded, ¡°It seems I may have underrepresented your prowess, Lord Xandros. Please accept our sincerest apologies.¡±


    The underlying message was clear. Respect, whether earned through diplomacy or display of power, was a valuable currency in this world.


    The room was cast in a shadowy hush as I spoke. ¡°Let us not dally. Our business awaits.¡±


    The guild president hesitated, his voice quaking slightly. ¡°Proceed, if you will.¡±


    Silence took hold once more. No one ventured a sly comment or interjection as they once might have.


    ¡°This,¡± I began, weaving the tale of our predicament with practiced flair, ¡°is our reality now. First and above all, ensure the safety of my comrades and their estate. And, let us uncover the puppeteer of these dark machinations.¡±


    The guild president swallowed. ¡°If I grasp your meaning... You''re suggesting we primarily ensure their safety?¡±


    Every adventurer¡¯s eye shifted towards Leo and Lana, with Lana appearing particularly uneasy beneath their scrutiny.


    ¡°Precisely,¡± I affirmed.


    He cleared his throat. ¡°However, melding protection with investigation might jeopardize their well-being...¡±


    ¡°That''s under the assumption of a singular party¡¯s assistance, yes? My intention is to employ every group present.¡±


    He blinked, taken aback. ¡°I mean no offense, but enlisting all ten parties? The cost will be steep.¡±


    I smirked, sensing the direction this was heading. Rising, I unsealed my Bag of Holding, letting its contents rain down. The shimmering flow of gold, platinum, and glinting jewels cascaded, amassing into impressive mounds.


    Whispers of ¡°Mister Emberus!¡± broke the stunned silence. Lana, her eyes wide, gestured frantically for restraint.


    I indulged in a moment of satisfaction; I was never rich in on earth, so id never gotten to "make it rain", i guess in this case it would be more "making it hail". The gesture was theatrical, perhaps overly so, but it was for a noble cause.


    I met their astonishment with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Haven¡¯t tallied it, but will this suffice?¡±


    The guild president could only nod fervently.


    Amid the scattered treasure, the bleating of the transformed sheep Stiller added an amusing soundtrack. A wealth so vast, it could easily be mistaken for a mountain range, was contained within my Bag of Holding.


    ¡°If this falls short, do notify me,¡± I remarked. ¡°But if it suffices, let us deliberate our approach without delay.¡±


    The guild president, together with party leaders, immediately immersed themselves in devising a strategy. The dynamics had shifted entirely. These were no longer mere adventurers but dedicated professionals, outlining their plan.


    Petr, with his characteristic grin, remarked on taking Stiller to the Rogues'' guild. ¡°Imagine their faces when they see him revert. Might make them more talkative, knowing what you¡¯re capable of.¡±


    I smirked. ¡°Quite the plan, Petr. You¡¯ve always been the reliable sort.¡±


    And as discussions wound down and decisions solidified, I pondered the whereabouts of Eryn.


    Petr explained, ¡°Eryn¡¯s ties are to the Weavers. Their talents are...unique. Their allegiances are often singular.¡±


    The adventurers departed, their spirits high, leaving me with assurances of their dedication.


    ***


    Our meeting with Zarn Budow at city hall was laden with apologies, which I swiftly curbed. ¡°Actions, Chairman Budow, speak louder than words.¡±


    ¡°I assure you,¡± he replied, ¡°Vandaris City will not rest until justice is served.¡±


    With an agreement established and a generous "donation" to boost the city''s efforts, I departed, noting the increased vigilance among the guards.


    Yet, amid all this, Lana''s voice broke through, tinged with concern. ¡°Mister Emberus, might you be... perhaps a tad too liberal with your assets?¡±


    I paused, searching for the right words.


    Upon our return, Lana''s eyes met mine with an intensity I hadn''t anticipated. Given her upbringing as a merchant''s daughter, I should have expected her acute awareness to the weight of each coin spent. My own recklessness that day had been more suited to the flamboyant tendencies of Leo than my usual discretion, making her reproach sting even more.


    "Remember, Lana, Lord Xandros acts with our best interests at heart," Leo interjected gently.


    Her gaze softened, though it remained heavy with worry. "I understand his motives, but it pains me to see Master Emberus bear so much on our account." She sighed, her gaze returning to me. "I apologize, Master Emberus. Despite all you''ve done, I fear I only seem to hinder you."


    I contemplated my choices, recognizing that my whimsical spending was but a mere abstract number in the grand tapestry of Emberus''s saga. Yet, for the residents of this realm, those choices bore tangible consequences. Crouching to level my gaze with Lana''s, I confessed, "It pains me that my actions have distressed you. You think you obstruct me, but in truth, by addressing me for who I am and not what I am, you keep me grounded. Were you to have praised today¡¯s excess instead of chiding me, I fear the man I would become.¡±


    She hesitated, words trapped behind her eyes, but before she could utter them, I continued, "For you, for your father, there''s no price too steep. You are like kin to me."


    In my former life, such sentimental proclamations would have been unthinkable. But this realm, less convoluted than the intricate dance of Japan, granted me a theatrical flair worthy of the mage I had become.


    Although I yearned for the company of Leo and Lana, my unfamiliarity with the city and its intricacies rendered me a virtual prisoner within their residence. Nonetheless, these days were far from monotonous. The abode was twice ambushed by rogue agents, seemingly under dark elven command, and an unknown waterway emerged in the city''s underbelly. In each circumstance, the brave adventurers held the fort, negating any need for my intervention.


    Yet, a more personal assault evaded my notice. Eryn, whom I had unwittingly placed in harm''s way due to our proximity, had been targeted by the dark elves. I had always seen Eryn as an ally, never a potential victim. Thankfully, her deft weaving skills kept her assailants at bay until timely intervention from a nearby patrol. The mere thought of an alternate outcome made my blood run cold.


    Eryn chastised me later, but when I proposed a personal guard detail, her spirit flared. "They''ll regret the day they crossed me!" she declared, aligning herself with Petr''s investigative party.


    By the fourth day, the city''s concerted efforts bore fruit with the discovery of the dark elves'' lair within the sewer system''s shadows. The subsequent confrontation led to the capture of a singular dark elf. Examining her attire, I sighed in exasperation. "Why must her attire be so... revealing?"


    In the ebon cradle of the Harkness enclave half a century past, an infant dark elf was christened Ravonica, which in their lyrical tongue whispered the words ¡°beautiful shadow.¡±


    Every enclave of the dark elves was a mosaic of tradition, where members were shaped by roles, much like steel in a forge. Expected to execute these roles with a perfection only rivaled by the starlit sky, Ravonica¡¯s own enclave, whose name, Harkness, bore the weight of "saboteur", shaped her in the clandestine arts of assassination and subterfuge. Upon her ascension as a master in her craft, she was entrusted with five disciples of shadow and was bestowed the title Ray¡ªdenoting her as the "sovereign of shadows."


    Ravonica Harkness Ray''s allegiances, while shifting like sand, found her deeply entwined within the treacherous tapestry of Dravus''s underground. Yet, a misstep, a single breath misplaced, led to the demise of one under her watch. The haunting gaze from her fallen kin''s eyes embedded a shard in her spirit, a splinter that time only seemed to sharpen.


    Two decades past, her enclave sought refuge within the Empire¡¯s embrace, and it was there she encountered a figure¡ªan enigma whose golden eyes seemed to drink the light from her memories, muddling and distorting them. Suddenly, Ravonica''s very essence felt ensnared, held taut by thick, pulsating tendrils of black that chained her spirit, their origins tracing back to the omnipresent silhouette that trailed her like a forbidden waltz partner.


    A puppet to his unspeakable whims, Ravonica¡¯s hands were stained with sins beyond counting. Resistance meant feeling the very bonds that controlled her squeeze tighter, robbing her of air and will, forcing her further into the abyss of a marionette¡¯s existence.


    A decade ago, her strings were pulled towards Vandaris City, where she became an instrument for cultists. The tendrils had become familiar, like old scars, and she wondered about the might she''d possess if free. Yet, the shadow of that overwhelming force dulled such thoughts.


    But days ago, in a dance with death she¡¯d rehearsed countless times, Ravonica faltered. Panic, alien and raw, consumed her puppeteer. The city itself seemed to turn on them, a tide of righteous fury in pursuit. As the pressure mounted, she felt an ancient pain, the gaze of her fallen disciple, and it cleaved a fragment of her soul free.


    A mere hour ago, her sanctuary was breached by an alliance of guards and adventurers, and she felt a chink in her puppeteer¡¯s armor. Amidst the chaos, the vision of her lost disciple empowered her to act autonomously for a fleeting moment, granting her disciples a chance of escape.


    Then, in the midst of her newfound self-awareness, a nebulous and mighty force surged through her. It was a cleansing fire, reducing her puppeteer to mere ashes while cradling her, reminding her of who she truly was.


    An exclamation of realization and joy pierced the air, as the puppet strings dissolved. The rebirth of Ravonica demanded a new title, not as Ray, but as Silver, a testament to her unwavering loyalty¡ªRavonica Harkness Silver.


    Amid the dimly lit room stood Petr, Eryn, and the other party leaders, their silhouettes converging over the dark elf. Battered and bruised, her limbs restrained and mouth sealed, she seemed trapped in the throes of unconsciousness. Her silvery-white hair framed her face and her distinct features triggered my memory ¨C she was the one from my Legend Lore spell.


    Yet one question nagged at me, and without realizing, I muttered, ¡°Why is her attire so¡­ revealing?¡±


    Her bodysuit was in line with what one might expect for an assassin, streamlined and efficient. But the unnecessary cuts around her back, thighs, and chest were bafflingly provocative.


    Eryn''s voice, edged with annoyance, broke through my musing. "Would you prefer if I aided your wandering eyes elsewhere?"


    I let out an exasperated sigh. "I assure you, my focus remains where it should."


    Guilt chided me. There was no room for such distractions. This woman was implicated in plots that endangered us all. Still, the adventurers'' barely concealed disdain for the dark elf sat uneasily with me. Whispers of torture and other unspeakable things circulated.


    "Enough!" I declared. "We will not resort to barbarism. I¡¯ll speak with her.¡± I hesitated for a moment, then added, "I''d prefer if everyone but Petr and Eryn would leave."


    The room emptied until only the echo of the dark elf''s breath remained.


    With a nod from me, Petr gently raised her, easing off the gag. As I neared her, I softly jostled her. "Can you hear me?¡±


    Eyes, hauntingly vacant, met mine.


    Introducing myself, I tried to gauge her reactions. But there was nothing ¨C just a hollow emptiness. "Might she be under some form of control?" I posed to Eryn.


    She replied, her tone grave, "Rumors speak of a vacant gaze in those possessed."


    I nodded, feeling a surge of determination. "Then let''s free her from this.¡± I invoked the Remove Curse spell, hoping to liberate her from this malevolent grip.


    Her reaction was immediate and visceral. Her scream echoed through the chamber, a raw, guttural sound that chilled the bones.


    Petr cried out, "What have you done?!¡±


    As the dark miasma erupted from her form, I wrestled with my doubts, praying my decision would save her rather than doom us all.

 Echoes of Conspiracy, Shadows, and Bonds

    "Did it work?" I pondered, my mind momentarily adrift, as the dark elf cradled in my arms finally raised her gaze.


    "I... I-I..." she faltered, her voice trembling.


    "Are you alright?" I inquired gently.


    Her eyes, once ensnared by a malevolent force, had regained their natural violet hue. The lingering vestiges of her enchantment had faded.


    The dazed expression on her face, though, only enhanced her allure¡ªa beguiling figure, masterful in her act. If it was indeed an act, she deserved commendation for its subtlety. However, I had learned over the years, through both life''s experiences and countless workshops on interpersonal boundaries, to maintain a respectful focus on the eyes and cautious restraint from any problematic touch.


    "Are you the one who vanquished the daimon that held sway over me?" she inquired, a quiver of hope in her voice. "Are you the wielder of such extraordinary power?"


    "Yes... Probably," I replied with a measure of uncertainty.


    "Then...then I am no longer a thrall."


    With each word, her strength and will returned, although her newfound resolve puzzled me.


    "What do you mean?" I asked, genuine curiosity in my tone.


    "From this moment forward, I am Ravonica Harkness Silver. Your blade, my Master."


    A perplexing revelation indeed. The fact that Remove Curse had an effect on her implied that her prior actions had not been of her own will. Who would subject her to such an enchantment, and for what purpose? It was a question that begged investigation, though for the present, the curse was broken, and Ravonica had been restored to herself.


    "Though I was ensnared by a fiend''s influence, I recall acting insolently, contrary to your wishes," Ravonica confessed, her voice weighted with remorse. She knelt before me, her hands clasped over her chest, a peculiar fervor in her gaze.


    Observing her from this vantage, a profound sense of fixation and dependency exuded from her. It was disconcerting.


    And there was more; she had effortlessly shed the ropes that had bound her arms and legs, as if they were mere threads.


    "What is transpiring here?" I inquired aloud, addressing the room at large.


    "She''s offering to serve you," Petr chimed in, always the fount of knowledge. "A useful asset, having your own dark elf assassin."


    A master? I contemplated the notion, perplexed by its source.


    "I have no inclination to be anyone''s master," I responded. "Your curse is lifted, and your past actions are under duress. You should answer for your deeds¡ªthrough legal channels."


    As far as I recalled, Vandaris possessed a courthouse. Ravonica could seek absolution through the judicial process, presenting evidence that she was coerced. A lenient sentence should be within reach.


    "If that is your wish, I shall abide," Ravonica acquiesced, her eyes brimming with tears. "But I shall remain your Sword. I would sacrifice for you anything you desire. I can infiltrate organizations and wield influence to your benefit. If you command my life''s end, I shall comply. Even this vessel of mine, I would surrender to you. But please... please, do not deny me as your master."


    Her examples were disquieting. What had driven her to such extremes?


    "Why such ominous scenarios?" I voiced my confusion.


    "Ominous?" Ravonica echoed despairingly, her pallor deepening as she sank to the floor.


    "Lord Xandros, do remain composed," Petr interjected, leading me to a quieter corner of the room. "You needn''t be so severe."


    "But Petr," I protested, "she seems intent on becoming a slave. I can''t just¡ª"


    "You misunderstand," Petr interrupted. "A slave is subjugated against their will. In this case, she offers her service willingly. Show respect for her choice."


    "Can''t we simply be friends?" I suggested. "I see no reason to assume the role of a master."


    Eryn''s irate voice shattered our conversation. She lunged forward, seizing my right ear with a vice-like grip.


    "What on earth are you two muttering about?" she snapped.


    "Ouch! Eryn!"


    Eryn''s glare could almost conjure horns upon her brow.


    "I can''t believe you!" she exclaimed. "You claimed to break her curse, but I bet you used your magic to bind her even more tightly!"


    "That''s not what happened!" I protested.


    "I never imagined you could be such a lecher! You should be ashamed!"


    "This is all a misunderstanding!" I pleaded.


    "If you didn''t enchant her, then she''s probably just trying to seduce you! Don''t fall for it!"


    While her fury was understandable if she believed I had enchanted Ravonica, my protestations fell on deaf ears.


    "Please, madam, allow me to explain," Ravonica interceded, stepping between Eryn and me, her voice quaking.


    "Madam?" Eryn echoed, baffled.


    "I remain unbound by any enchantment, madam," Ravonica stated. "Even if I were, it would be inconsequential, for my deepest desire is to serve you both. I implore you not to be angered with your husband."


    "My what?!" Eryn''s voice squeaked.


    Let us review the situation. Presently, Petr, Eryn, and I were jointly questioning a dark elf who had previously attempted my assassination and Lana''s kidnapping on orders we presumed originated from a Cultist. Then, inexplicably, this dark elf began to profess herself as my slave, while Eryn was suddenly designated as my wife.


    "That''s not¡ªI mean, I''m not... We''re not..." Eryn stammered.


    "You need not hide it," Ravonica asserted. "I am certain that a man of my master''s strength would endure such verbal and physical abuses only from his wife."


    That was quite a leap, if you asked me. Eryn appeared too dumbfounded to respond, her cheeks flushed as she fiddled with her hair. A moment ago, she seemed ready to explode; now, she seemed on the verge of tears. I sighed inwardly. I would undoubtedly need to address this later when Eryn vented her confusion.


    I must intervene before matters spiral further out of control.


    "No, Ravonica¡ªEryn is not my wife," I clarified. "She is a dear friend and trusted companion, as is Petr."


    "Yes! Exactly!" Eryn chimed in, her embarrassment evident.


    "He is right," Petr chimed in. "Pleased to meet you."


    "I apologize for jumping to conclusions," Ravonica replied.


    While I had managed to quell the rising tension between Eryn and our captive, our interrogation had yielded little of substance thus far. This needed to change.


    We must expedite the extraction of information from Ravonica to unmask the orchestrator of this sinister plot, I pondered. Other dark elves remained at large, and any delay only increased the risk of the mastermind''s escape.


    "Why do you believe that our Emberus is your master?" Eryn inquired, her voice now restrained, a stark contrast to her previous outburst.


    "For decades, I was enslaved by the fiend that dwelled within me. I carried out the assassination attempt on Master Xandros under its malevolent control. What appalls me most is that over those long years, I had grown accustomed to the fiend''s dominion... but it holds me no more. Master Xandros has just released me from its grasp through his awe-inspiring power."


    Could it be that daemons have infiltrated society, conspiring to overthrow it? Or was Ravonica''s enslavement the result of cultists wielding fiendish magic? Either way, her narrative hinted at a broader, more intricate conspiracy.


    "Words cannot capture the fear I experienced when the fiend was extinguished, nor the profound gratitude I felt upon realizing I was being rescued. Among dark elves, the preservation of one''s tribe surpasses all individual concerns. Yet, when a dark elf acknowledges a debt of gratitude that transcends even the fate of their tribe, they pledge to serve."


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "Well, that''s understandable, don''t you think?" Petr interjected, glancing between Eryn and me.


    "I suppose dark elves have their own customs," Eryn conceded, albeit with some reservations.


    This is Sedia, not Earth, I reminded myself. Sedia upheld its unique moral and ethical codes, and I had no right to impose my values on its people. Nevertheless, questions lingered.


    "So," I finally spoke up, "you intend to cooperate with us, correct?"


    "More than that... I pledge my unwavering loyalty and¡ª"


    "Yes, yes. We can discuss that later," I interjected. "First, I need you to provide us with information about the one who controlled you and your companions. We must ascertain the identity of the individual behind the poison plot. If your fellow dark elves are similarly ensnared, I wish to aid them. But once we apprehend those responsible, you all must face trial in the city. After fulfilling your societal debt, if you still wish to serve me, then, and only then, make your decision."


    This compromise should suffice, I thought. Gathering the necessary information took precedence, followed by due legal process. This should offer Ravonica the opportunity to reconsider her servitude.


    "Excellent," Petr remarked.


    "Well... if it''s your heartfelt wish to pledge loyalty to him, I suppose I won''t stand in your way," Eryn relented.


    "Thank you! Thank you! I promise, I shall be of great service!"


    In Dravus, aside from the inherent loyalty to one''s family and nation, it was not uncommon for individuals to willingly dedicate themselves to another, an organization, or a cause. I had observed this while working with the Adamant Knights, but I had yet to fully accept it.


    My struggle to reconcile this cultural difference was why I still harbored doubts about Ravonica''s true intentions. However, there was a way to dispel those doubts, though it felt somewhat underhanded.


    ***


    Ultimately, I decided to employ Detect Thoughts to confirm Ravon''s testimony. (Her full name was cumbersome, so I resolved to use a shortened version.) When I explained the spell''s function to Petr and Eryn, they expressed reservations about my ability to delve into others'' minds, but Ravon readily consented.


    "Let''s begin," I said. "First question: Was the entity responsible for your enthrallment and that of your comrades a fiend?"


    "The one who initially placed me in that state was a human, I believe. However, lurking behind the power that ensnared me, and within the entity to which I was bound for countless years, I sensed the presence of a fiend. I can never repay you adequately for liberating me, even if I serve you for the remainder of my days." How deplorable it was for me to submit so completely to another... Yet, the mere act of relinquishing control offered a semblance of salvation... Before me stood one whose power eclipsed that of the fiend... Oh, how I yearned to be dominated, bound, and compelled into submission by that extraordinary might...


    I had to regain my composure, steadying myself.


    "Are you alright?" Eryn inquired.


    The overwhelming surge of Ravon''s undiluted and unwavering loyalty (if it could indeed be called that) threatened to overwhelm me.


    In my youth, I had occasionally undertaken excessive workloads out of respect for an esteemed supervisor. So, on some level, I comprehended the desire to sacrifice oneself for another. Yet, the intensity of Ravon''s sentiments catapulted her into an entirely different realm.


    "I-I see... However, you must understand: While you pledge loyalty to me, it is difficult for us to accept your words at face value. How can we be sure this is not a ruse to facilitate your escape?"


    "I would never entertain such thoughts! There is nothing more natural than pledging unwavering loyalty to someone as deserving as you, my master! Should you doubt my sincerity, I shall tear my heart from my chest and show you the purest crimson it can bleed." Woe unto me, for my Olry doubts me! The sole individual to whom I can turn¡ªnay, should turn¡ªlacks faith in me... Rather than endure this, I wish he would end my miserable existence this very moment!


    "You... there''s no need for that. I understand what you''re trying to convey."


    As terrifying as it was to admit, whatever Ravon felt, be it loyalty, devotion, or something entirely distinct, she concealed nothing. While her words, taken at face value, offered an oversimplified representation of the complex emotions simmering beneath the surface, I had already perceived more than I desired.


    Despite my discomfort, I found some solace in Eryn''s reaction. It was the most human response in the room, grounding me in the midst of this fantastical world.


    "No," I replied at last, my gaze meeting hers. "Thank you, Eryn. I hope you never cease your admonishments, just as you always have. Please, remain as you are."


    "What... What did you just say?" Eryn''s voice quivered with disbelief.


    While the remainder of our session with Ravon held its own events, I''ll condense the subsequent details. Ravon cooperated, sharing every recollection she possessed.


    According to her, the one who had controlled and coerced her into assassinating me was a gaunt man who bore the airs of nobility. His abode bore a family emblem featuring a sword and sail. At the mention of this, Petr swiftly connected the dots, identifying a person of interest flagged by the Adventurers'' Guild.


    His name: Kimbal Cornwall, a baron sitting on the city council. Cornwall''s notoriety stemmed from his ceaseless antagonism of the mercantile faction, from the council''s chairperson down to its lowest-ranking members.


    There had been unverified accounts of individuals vanishing near Cornwall''s estate, alongside reports of suspicious figures entering and departing the premises. A maid even testified to witnessing a fiendish ceremony conducted at the estate. The list of allegations was extensive. In response to these rumors, the Adventurers'' Guild had conducted an independent investigation, leading to a firm belief that the rumors carried substantial weight. Ravon''s account was the final piece of the puzzle.


    "This settles it," Petr declared. "Cornwall is our Cultist."


    "So, should we prepare to raid his estate?" Eryn asked.


    "I''m joining you," added Ravon.


    "On what grounds?" I interjected. "We can''t simply carry out an extrajudicial arrest and interrogation. Even if we''re convinced, we lack the legal authority to act based solely on suspicions."


    First, we must notify the Adventurers'' Guild and the city guard of our suspicions, I pondered. Then, we''ll request that they locate Cornwall, prevent his departure from the city, and establish surveillance on his estate.


    Following my explanation, Petr, Eryn, Ravon, and I headed directly to the city hall. Although I recognized it was short notice, I insisted on an audience with Chairman Budow and the city guard''s captain.


    When the chairman and the captain arrived, looking somewhat flustered, I detailed how Kimbal Cornwall was the mastermind behind the assassination plot and was highly likely associated with the Cultists. Despite Cornwall being a political rival of Budow''s, it still came as a shock to both him and the captain that such a high-ranking official was entangled in Dravus''s most abhorred practices.


    "I never would have suspected him... but it appears there''s little room for doubt," Budow commented.


    "In addition to the dark elf''s testimony," the captain chimed in, "the Adventurers'' Guild has amassed significant circumstantial evidence that aligns with her account. I propose we move forward and arrest Lord Cornwall on suspicion of orchestrating an assassination attempt and engaging in fiend worship."


    "Hmm... What do you think, Lord Xandros?" Budow inquired. "Is that acceptable to you?"


    Ordinarily, it would be preposterous for someone of Budow''s stature to seek confirmation from someone like me. Yet, I could discern that he was well aware of my stance. Once again, he had impressed me.


    "Of course, I have no objections to his arrest," I affirmed. "However, I suspect Cornwall may resort to supernatural powers if cornered. As a precaution, I would like to be involved in his apprehension. Furthermore, it''s an opportunity to demonstrate to Vandaris''s citizens that I stand by their side."


    "Ch-chairman?" the captain stammered. "Is that acceptable?"


    "I''m delighted to hear you say that," Budow replied. "By all means, lend us your assistance. Captain, do not hesitate to involve Lord Xandros in all aspects of the arrest, and do not hesitate to seek his aid."


    "Yes, sir."


    Petr, Eryn, and Ravon stood restlessly while the chairman, captain, and I continued our conversation. To those accustomed to taking swift action, my methodical approach must have seemed unbearably sluggish.


    Nevertheless, coming from a background steeped in the American legal system, events were unfolding at a remarkable pace. The decision to apprehend Cornwall was made in a short span, without complications. It served as a stark reminder of the profound differences in values between this fantasy world and modern-day America.


    "Chairman," I addressed him.


    "What is it?"


    "Thank you for placing your trust in me."


    "Observing your actions in the past few days, it was an easy decision," Budow responded. "Anyone, with adequate knowledge of you, would have done the same."


    In other words, in a world like Dravus, where science and the legal system were less developed (though describing it as "less developed" oversimplifies the intricate dynamics of nation-states, a phrase I preferred to avoid), trust was the most vital currency. It could be argued that a nation''s customs and authority structures were designed to cultivate this essential element of trust among its citizens.


    As a counterexample, if Vandaris''s populace perceived me as someone who followed the law only when convenient, their trust would quickly erode. Chairman Budow recognized that my aim was to demonstrate my respect for the city''s laws and agreed to assist me.


    "Lord Xandros, concerning the dark elf..."


    The captain turned to me, his expression uncertain.


    "Yes, I nearly forgot," I acknowledged, turning to the captain. "I will hand her over to you and the city guard. I request that you arrange a public trial to address her crimes."


    Silence enveloped the room.


    Ravon''s hands had been bound, albeit for appearances'' sake. She insisted that I, rather than Petr, perform the binding. Although Ravon had clearly taken pleasure in having me bind her hands, I remained oblivious. Entirely. That was my official stance.


    Another detail I did my best to disregard was Ravon''s unyielding determination to kneel beside me whenever I came to a halt, moving only when I did. Yet, this seemed to distress the captain of the guard.


    "But, Lord Xandros..." he began, furrowing his brow. "From what I can see, she now acts as though she''s your servant..."


    "This and that are unrelated," I explained. "Regrettably, Ravonica has transgressed the laws of this city, and it''s only natural for her to face the city''s justice."


    It wasn''t as if I felt no remorse for her. Particularly after receiving her intense loyalty directly, a hint of guilt pricked at me for delivering her into the hands of the authorities.


    If I were to overlook Ravon''s transgressions and claim her as my servant, I had no doubt that no one (save for Eryn) would protest. Nevertheless, in doing so, her societal debt would remain unpaid. I couldn''t absolve her of her crimes. Even if she had been manipulated, I mused, it was likely she had committed other offenses in the past, long before her coerced actions. The determination of how her debt should be settled wasn''t mine alone to make.


    "If that''s your wish..." the captain murmured. "We generally hold trials at the end of the month¡ªten days from now. Until then, we''ll keep her in custody."


    "At the trial, she''ll need legal representation and a guarantor," he added. "May we assume you''ll stand as her guarantor?"


    "Hmm? Uh... Yes, absolutely."


    Guarantor? I pondered. I was unfamiliar with the legal procedures in Dravus, but I had no qualms about aiding her case. In fact, I was more than willing to advocate on her behalf. Hopefully, her sentence wouldn''t exceed a few years of imprisonment and labor.


    "Just so you''re aware," I continued, "Ravonica was manipulated by a Cultist, leading her to commit crimes against her will. She has expressed remorse for her actions and a desire to make amends. I would appreciate it if you could ensure these factors are considered during the trial, particularly in regard to her sentencing."


    Did I go too far, I wondered, immediately after delivering my request. Overemphasizing her case could potentially backfire, resulting in a harsher sentence.


    "Don''t worry, we understand. Rest assured, we''ll handle the matter," Budow assured me.


    "I''ll instruct the guards to ensure her comfort until the trial," the captain added.


    Comfort? I contemplated. Something about their responses appeared... peculiar. Petr had remained silent throughout, but his conspicuous grin, which I should have noticed earlier, now spoke volumes.

 Confronting Shadows: The Archmages Pledge

    Kimbal Cornwall was not special. And yet, like every ordinary human, he clung to the notion that there was something uniquely significant about him, hidden beneath the surface of his mundane existence.


    A decade had passed since the chaos wrought by the fiend outbreak had subsided. It was during those early post-chaos days that a man from one of the villages under the Cornwall family''s jurisdiction arrived with a peculiar offering. Had Kimbal not laid eyes upon that bizarre object, he might have continued as an unremarkable noble of Vandaris.


    "What is this? It looks repulsive," Cornwall remarked upon being presented with the skull of a curseling¡ªa crimson-hued artifact that gleamed as if bathed in blood, a macabre work of art.


    "I concur, sir," his elderly butler chimed in. "The idea of considering this an heirloom is preposterous."


    The butler was right; any person of sound judgment would have concurred. Yet, something about this peculiar object intrigued Cornwall. He brought it closer to his face, peering into the hollow eye sockets. In the depths of those sockets, he perceived, or perhaps imagined, a faint, golden glimmer.


    "If it''s something that no one else would accept," Cornwall mused slowly, "then all the more reason to keep it. It has a unique impact, unlike any sculpture or artwork that others might possess."


    With the skull now adorning his bedroom, Cornwall experienced a subtle shift in his perception. He became attuned to the malice in others'' glances, heard the whispers behind his back. In a matter of days, he regarded humanity as a collective embodiment of malevolence, a cruel entity determined to mock him. By the end of the first week, he was offering his own blood to the skull, and within a month, he had welcomed a fiend Cult bishop into his abode.


    "I knew you, above all others, would comprehend the grave significance of our cause," the bishop asserted.


    "Yes, indeed. We must eradicate those loathsome, senseless creatures at any cost," Cornwall concurred. "Humanity has no place in Dravus."


    The ominous bishop was the very person who had dispatched the fiend skull to Cornwall. He was a man entirely bereft of hair, from head to toe, who had once presided over a small village within Cornwall''s domain. By the time the skull arrived at Cornwall''s estate, the bishop had successfully converted the entire village to the cult''s beliefs.


    However, it was the bishop who gave Cornwall five dark elf assassins, courtesy of higher-ranking cultists. Cornwall cared little that their brainwashing had hindered their full potential. In his eyes, they were exceptional. They executed more than a dozen political assassinations, expanding Cornwall''s influence within the city. Not even the Rogues'' Guild could trace these killings back to him.


    It took a decade for Cornwall to ascend to the upper echelons of the noble faction, the sole rival to the merchant faction''s power in Vandaris. During this time, he ensnared all his servants, including his butler, in the cult''s web.


    As instructed by the bishop, Cornwall conducted monthly cult ceremonies. Beneath his estate lay an underground lake filled with countless human bones, a testament to his unwavering commitment.


    Everything unfolded according to plan¡ªuntil a few days ago.


    It was then that an infuriating man emerged, one who claimed to be a formidable magician, capable of effortlessly vanquishing fiends'' nests through the use of his peculiar magic. Cornwall seethed with jealousy. Such a man should not be allowed to exist!


    "We must eliminate Emberus Blazeus Xandros at all costs," the bishop declared upon returning from his village.


    "I am well aware. Eradicating those who pose a threat to fiends is our highest duty," Cornwall replied.


    A plot was hatched to bring about Xandros''s downfall. Their first opportunity came when Xandros and Chairman Budow arranged a meeting. Cornwall stood to gain little from a premature assassination. It was crucial to ensure that the aftermath favored him politically. Ideally, both Budow and Xandros would perish, but if only one met his end, the other could be framed for the murder. Even if both survived, the incident could sow discord that Cornwall could exploit.


    But the assassination attempt not only failed, it revealed that Xandros, the man who called himself a great magician, looked no different from an ordinary middle-aged man. Cornwall''s fury intensified. How could this Xandros, gifted with such powers, bear such an unremarkable appearance?


    Driven by his rage, Cornwall resolved to destroy everything that mattered to Xandros. He ordered an attack on the merchant family sheltering Xandros, yet even that endeavor ended in failure.


    As Cornwall grappled with his repeated setbacks, he received reports of adventurers and city guards intensifying their search for cultists within Vandaris.


    Initially, Cornwall paid little heed to this development. He had evaded suspicion on numerous occasions before, but this time was different. His pursuers were relentless, and the Rogues'' Guild had ventured into the sewers to hunt for cultists. It was only a matter of time before they succeeded.


    When Cornwall decided to take action, his efforts were thwarted repeatedly¡ªby adventurers, city guards, and the Rogues'' Guild alike. Vandaris, once his dominion, had now become a perilous trap closing in on him.


    Yet, it was too late when he realized the inexorable nature of his predicament. His most valuable pawns had been taken from him, and the city resonated with accusations of his cultist ties. His home was under constant surveillance, and he dared not venture outside. People had gathered to gawk at his downfall.


    Worse yet, his sources informed him that Xandros, that loathsome wizard, was the mastermind behind his misery.


    "That accursed Xandros!" Cornwall seethed. "Who does he think he is, coming here to ruin everything I''ve built?"


    A clamoring crowd had assembled outside Cornwall''s mansion, reveling in his downfall. Backed into a corner, he saw no alternative but to prematurely initiate the final, catastrophic ceremony that he and the bishop had orchestrated.


    "If only we had five more years to perfect the curse," the bishop lamented, "we could have summoned an Underlord."


    "How many hundreds of humans'' flesh and blood do you think we''ve sacrificed to it? It should be complete enough to decimate them."


    "Yes... Let us hope so," the bishop murmured, his eyes fixed longingly on the fiend skull perched atop an altar. It had grown to five times the size it had been when Cornwall first laid eyes on it.


    The bishop knelt reverently before the altar and uttered unholy incantations to the skull. In response, the skull began to tremble, and an eerie yellow light flickered in its eye sockets, steadily intensifying.


    At that precise moment, the chamber''s door burst open. A messenger hastily delivered the news to Cornwall: Emberus Blazeus Xandros was rapidly approaching, with city guards and a party of adventurers in tow.


    ***


    Kimbal Cornwall was not elusive. According to the adventurers'' surveillance, he had not left his opulent mansion in an upscale residential district, overlooking the city, for days.


    By the time my presence was requested, teams of adventurers, city guards, and rogues had already formed a tight ring around Cornwall''s mansion. I left Ravon under the watchful eyes of the city guards, and Petr''s party joined me as we approached the mansion.


    Like the estates of other nobles and affluent merchants, Cornwall''s mansion was ensconced within a formidable wall. The imposing gate remained firmly shut, emblazoned with a crest bearing a sword and sail¡ªthe very same one Reyha had described in her testimony. There was no sign or sound emanating from beyond the gate; it appeared eerily deserted. In stark contrast, the square in front of the mansion thronged with curious onlookers.


    "I never would have imagined Lord Cornwall consorting with fiends..."


    "But it does make sense, doesn''t it? I can''t believe we never questioned it earlier."


    "Do you think my wife''s death had anything to do with him...?"


    In addition to the adventurers and guards I had enlisted, a multitude of ordinary citizens had gathered to witness the unfolding events.


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    The fact that Cornwall had yet to make an appearance, despite the tumult at his doorstep, suggested several possibilities: surrender, an escape through a concealed passage, or, more likely, a final stand. My intuition leaned toward the latter¡ªthe sort of maneuver a villain in a fantasy tale might employ. If this were a tabletop role-playing game, I could almost guarantee it.


    "Lord Archmage! Whenever you''re ready, just give the order, and we''ll storm the gate," declared seven city guards clad in full plate armor, each wielding a pavise, flail, and crossbow.


    Before our expedition, I had arranged for a select unit of elite city guards to accompany me, although ostensibly, I was accompanying them. They appeared to be quite formidable, especially when compared to the Adamant Knights.


    "I apologize for involving you in this matter, especially when you''ve already done so much," I said, addressing Petr.


    "Don''t mention it, considering the generous payment you''ve provided up front," Petr replied with a confident smile.


    Our group consisted of fourteen individuals, including the seven guards, the six members of Petr''s party, and myself. Additional units were positioned around the mansion to prevent any escape attempts. It seemed like a substantial force for the task at hand, but I preferred to be over-prepared.


    "On a more serious note..." Petr began, "if Cornwall doesn''t come willingly, I wouldn''t underestimate him."


    "What makes you say that?" I inquired, intrigued.


    "Cornwall will have heard the rumors about you. Whatever his plan is, you can be sure he''ll have strategies in place for dealing with weavers."


    "What kind of strategies are you anticipating?" I queried, my confusion mounting. What did weaving have to do with me in this context?


    "The most common method to disable a weaver is Silentium," Clara responded, her irritation palpable. "Cornwall is rumored to have dabbled in weaving."


    "Sil¡­ What?"


    "It''s an incantation that erases sound in a given area. Won''t that cause some problems for you?"


    Silentium, I thought. It''s akin to T&T''s Silence spell.


    "Yes¡­ That would be a problem."


    "I thought so," said Clara. "Other countermeasures include using light or darkness incantations to obstruct a weaver''s vision, and a weaver''s mana can be drained by certain items or specific monsters."


    I shouldn''t be surprised, I thought. Weaving is powerful, and it''s only logical that people would seek ways to counter it. This could pose a problem; it emphasizes that even a Level 20 mage can''t handle everything alone.


    "If that sound-cancelling incantation is used on us, what do we do?" I asked.


    "The best course of action is to move out of the affected area. Assuming Cornwall''s weaving is on par with a novice, he shouldn''t be able to affect a large area. One option for a group with multiple weavers is to spread them out so that both cannot be affected at once."


    So, even if one person is silenced, the other can continue to perform incantations or cast spells...


    "In that case, Eryn, can you and Philip stay some distance away from me?" I suggested.


    "Why don''t we just split into two groups, my party as one group, and you and the guards as another?" Petr proposed.


    "That sounds like a plan," Eryn concurred.


    Even if we split up, we''ll probably converge on the same location eventually, I thought. Nevertheless, it''s a well-conceived plan.


    "With all the people gawking... I mean, with all the witnesses, I think it''s best that you announce your entrance before we break down the door," Eryn suggested.


    "Ugh... Yes, you''re probably right."


    I knew I should heed Eryn''s advice, but I truly wished I could avoid it.


    The square in front of Cornwall''s mansion teemed with Vindaris citizens from diverse backgrounds. Most likely, they had come to witness the spectacle of my revenge against Kimbal Cornwall. Perhaps my recent investigation had been too conspicuous, for it seemed like the entire town knew of Cornwall''s status as a suspected cultist. The heinous nature of his alleged crimes had amplified the spreading rumors exponentially.


    Curiosity wasn''t limited to the spectators; the city guards and adventurers also awaited my actions with anticipation, as if silently asking, "What will the great Archmage, destroyer of fiends'' nests, do here?"


    "Before that, I want to say something to both of you," I whispered.


    "What is it?" Petr asked.


    I turned to Petr and Eryn, two young friends I had leaned on since my arrival in Dravus, and declared:


    "I''m no hero. I''m just an ordinary human being. Despite that, I''ve chosen to fight to protect everyone from fiends."


    Both Eryn and Petr froze.


    I knew my words might sound like a line from a cringe-worthy melodrama, and they embarrassed me deeply. Nevertheless, I harbored no regrets. Instead of waiting to see whether they would laugh or simply roll their eyes, I quickly shifted my attention to the crowd.


    "Beloved people of Vindaris! I am the Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros." I spoke loudly, addressing the crowd with as much cordiality as I could muster. The crowd fell silent, a far simpler task than the previous conversation.


    "I apologize for the commotion. As most of you are aware, I am here to accompany the city guard in seeking an audience with Baron Cornwall, whom we have reason to suspect of being a cultist."


    "It''s true!"


    "Think he''ll rain meteors down on us in anger?!"


    "The baron shouldn''t have been so aggressive... He''s really gone too far now..."


    As soon as I uttered the word "cultist," a collective shiver ran through the crowd. Fear was etched on every face, and I knew a significant portion of that fear was directed at me. It reminded me of what had transpired in the village, and I couldn''t help but feel a touch of melancholy.


    "Fear not! At this moment, Baron Cornwall remains merely a suspect. After we engage in a proper dialogue, we may discover that our suspicions are unfounded. However, if it does indeed turn out that Baron Cornwall is a cultist..."


    I forced myself to carry on, not allowing the weight of the situation to hold me back. As I paused, the crowd held its collective breath, waiting for my next words.


    I cast the Thaumaturgy spell, and my voice reverberated like thunder across the assembly.


    "The most common method to disable a weaver is Silentium," Clara responded, her irritation palpable. "Cornwall is rumored to have dabbled in weaving."


    "Sil¡­ What?"


    "It''s an incantation that erases sound in a given area. Won''t that cause some problems for you?"


    Silentium, I thought. It''s akin to T&T''s Silence spell.


    "Yes¡­ That would be a problem."


    "I thought so," said Clara. "Other countermeasures include using light or darkness incantations to obstruct a weaver''s vision, and a weaver''s mana can be drained by certain items or specific monsters."


    I shouldn''t be surprised, I thought. Weaving is powerful, and it''s only logical that people would seek ways to counter it. This could pose a problem; it emphasizes that even a Level 20 mage can''t handle everything alone.


    "If that sound-cancelling incantation is used on us, what do we do?" I asked.


    "The best course of action is to move out of the affected area. Assuming Cornwall''s weaving is on par with a novice, he shouldn''t be able to affect a large area. One option for a group with multiple weavers is to spread them out so that both cannot be affected at once."


    So, even if one person is silenced, the other can continue to perform incantations or cast spells...


    "In that case, Eryn, can you and Philip stay some distance away from me?" I suggested.


    "Why don''t we just split into two groups, my party as one group, and you and the guards as another?" Petr proposed.


    "That sounds like a plan," Eryn concurred.


    Even if we split up, we''ll probably converge on the same location eventually, I thought. Nevertheless, it''s a well-conceived plan.


    "With all the people gawking... I mean, with all the witnesses, I think it''s best that you announce your entrance before we break down the door," Eryn suggested.


    "Ugh... Yes, you''re probably right."


    I knew I should heed Eryn''s advice, but I truly wished I could avoid it.


    The square in front of Cornwall''s mansion teemed with Vindaris citizens from diverse backgrounds. Most likely, they had come to witness the spectacle of my revenge against Kimbal Cornwall. Perhaps my recent investigation had been too conspicuous, for it seemed like the entire town knew of Cornwall''s status as a suspected cultist. The heinous nature of his alleged crimes had amplified the spreading rumors exponentially.


    Curiosity wasn''t limited to the spectators; the city guards and adventurers also awaited my actions with anticipation, as if silently asking, "What will the great Archmage, destroyer of fiends'' nests, do here?"


    "Before that, I want to say something to both of you," I whispered.


    "What is it?" Petr asked.


    I turned to Petr and Eryn, two young friends I had leaned on since my arrival in Dravus, and declared:


    "I''m no hero. I''m just an ordinary human being. Despite that, I''ve chosen to fight to protect everyone from fiends."


    Both Eryn and Petr froze.


    I knew my words might sound like a line from a cringe-worthy melodrama, and they embarrassed me deeply. Nevertheless, I harbored no regrets. Instead of waiting to see whether they would laugh or simply roll their eyes, I quickly shifted my attention to the crowd.


    "Beloved people of Vindaris! I am the Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros." I spoke loudly, addressing the crowd with as much cordiality as I could muster. The crowd fell silent, a far simpler task than the previous conversation.


    "I apologize for the commotion. As most of you are aware, I am here to accompany the city guard in seeking an audience with Baron Cornwall, whom we have reason to suspect of being a cultist."


    "It''s true!"


    "Think he''ll rain meteors down on us in anger?!"


    "The baron shouldn''t have been so aggressive... He''s really gone too far now..."


    As soon as I uttered the word "cultist," a collective shiver ran through the crowd. Fear was etched on every face, and I knew a significant portion of that fear was directed at me. It reminded me of what had transpired in the village, and I couldn''t help but feel a touch of melancholy.


    "Fear not! At this moment, Baron Cornwall remains merely a suspect. After we engage in a proper dialogue, we may discover that our suspicions are unfounded. However, if it does indeed turn out that Baron Cornwall is a cultist..."


    I forced myself to carry on, not allowing the weight of the situation to hold me back. As I paused, the crowd held its collective breath, waiting for my next words.


    I cast the Thaumaturgy spell, and my voice reverberated like thunder across the assembly.


    "Let history remember this day, my fellow citizens of Vindaris, as the turning point in our struggle against the dark scourge that is the fiends! Ten years ago, these malevolent entities descended upon our beloved city, claiming the lives of hundreds and shrouding our world in shadow. But today, we stand united, an unbreakable phalanx against their encroaching darkness. Fear not, for it is not the might of a single Archmage that shall save us, but the strength of our indomitable spirit, bound together by a common purpose. The fiends may have dealt us a devastating blow, but they have underestimated our resolve! We are the defenders of this city, the guardians of hope, and together, we shall cast out these horrors, for we are the embodiment of humanity''s unyielding spirit. So rally, brave souls, for today we march forward, not as individuals, but as a formidable force, and we shall show the fiends the meaning of true terror. In the name of Vindaris, I, Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros, declare that our fight against these fiends is not a battle; it is a war, and it is a war we shall win! I can assure you that we will apprehend him and safeguard you all. For I am Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros, the adversary of fiends and all who consort with them! Uhh... Death to all fiends!"

 Trials and Triumphs

    "I nearly had it!" I thought, my voice resonating through the square, my heart racing as I continued to speak. "If only I hadn''t stumbled at the end, the delivery would have been perfect."


    "Lord Xandros!"


    "We''re counting on you!"


    The first to respond, in shouts and cheers, were the city guards and adventurers.


    "Yeah!"


    "Archmage!"


    "Our hero!"


    "Please protect my children from the fiends!"


    The crowd''s enthusiasm grew, their voices rising in a unified chorus. Even though I was the one who had spurred them on, I still felt uncomfortable about the attention.


    "You''re starting to get the hang of this, Lord Mage," said Petr.


    "That''s the spirit!" added Eryn.


    "Uh¡­ Thanks."


    Though I felt like a child being over-enthusiastically praised by his parents, I couldn''t deny that their support bolstered my confidence. I would have to ask them about the other thing I said later on.


    "He''s coming," Vaness''s calm voice interrupted my thoughts, its steady tone like a bucket of ice water thrown on my face. The ominous sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu washed over me as I looked in the direction she was pointing.


    The gate, which had been firmly shut moments ago, slowly began to open.


    "I-It''s him!"


    "It''s the baron!"


    "The Cultist!"


    The crowd erupted with shouts and cries. Surprisingly, only a few panicked or ran. Perhaps it was the presence of the guards and adventurers that acted as an emotional buffer. Even so, the crowd took a few steps back, their eyes fixed on me and the gate.


    "I didn''t expect him to come out and meet us," I remarked, nodding as Petr led his party away to create distance, following our plan.


    "Into formation, everyone!" shouted the leader of my guard unit, and the seven guards raised their shields, forming a defensive line in front of me. Though it felt a bit cowardly to stand behind them, I focused on the gate, ready for whatever¡ªor whoever¡ªwould emerge.


    "It''s the baron..."


    "Why is he dressed like that?"


    "I''m scared..."


    The crowd murmured as seven shadowy figures walked out of the gate. Five of them were muscular strongmen wearing black cloth masks that concealed their faces, leaving only the slits of their eyes visible. They brandished large, unsheathed swords. In front of them stood the man in the grotesque cloak, adorned with skin and bones¡ªBaron Cornwall himself. He appeared much older than his actual age, thin and with deep rings around his eyes. The final figure, partially hidden behind the others, wore black robes and had a bald head.


    "Welcome to my mansion, Archmage Xandros and citizens of Relis!" Cornwall''s voice was clear, loud, and carried effortlessly through the square. The guards in front of me shivered, and I couldn''t blame them. Despite our never having met before, Cornwall''s gaze was locked onto me as he spoke.


    "It''s nearly time for supper! I do hope they''re paying you overtime," Cornwall scoffed. "What business have you with Kimbal Cornwall?"


    Though Cornwall''s menacing appearance and unsettling voice sent shivers down my spine, there was something oddly captivating about his tone. So, this is what a Cultist is like, I thought.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Eryn gesturing to me from about ten meters away, where Petr''s party stood. Her silent message was clear: "Don''t just stand there¡ªrespond!"


    "Lord Cornwall, it is a privilege to meet you. I am indeed Emberus Xandros," I replied.


    "Is this the part where I say that I hope we shall get along swimmingly?" Cornwall retorted, dripping with sarcasm.


    "Let us cut to the chase. Baron Cornwall, we have reason to believe that you are engaged in fiend worship and that you orchestrated an assassination attempt targeting the city council chairman and me. What say you?"


    Though I had already received the authority to detain Cornwall even if he denied our allegations, I no longer expected him to. Not after he emerged in that bizarre outfit with his entourage. Then what is his aim? I wondered.


    "Well done. Well done. You are correct! I am a Cultist! Now, mage, disrupter of our long-awaited third brood event, I have only one thing to say to you. Die!"


    It was far from my first encounter with the command to die, and it wasn''t even the first time I had heard it uttered with malice. But it was the first time I had seen someone genuinely mean it. The intensity behind that word, steeped in human hatred, was unlike the inorganic fury of a fiend''s malice. It was personal, intimate, and deeply unsettling. My heart momentarily stopped, then raced within my chest, and I shuddered.


    "I¡­ I refuse!" I stammered, clutching at my heart. My confidence was a fragile facade, but I had to maintain it. A powerful mage couldn''t falter in the face of mere words.


    "Ready!" shouted the leader of my guard unit, interpreting my response as a signal to attack. "Fire!"


    Crossbows loosed bolts, and Petr''s arrows joined the volley, aiming at our adversaries.


    "Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!" Cornwall''s roar echoed, his voice laden with madness. "Kill them so they can''t speak! So they can''t see! So they can never mock me again!"


    "Arrghh!" The masked men howled as arrows found their mark. One fell with two arrows piercing his face, but the others charged forward despite their injuries. Two closed in on me, and the remaining two bore down on Petr''s party.


    "Shields up!" commanded the leader of the guard unit, and three guards raised their shields to form a defensive line. The masked assailants swung their swords, but the guards'' formation held.


    "Take this, you Cultists!" Three guards behind the shield-bearers drew their swords, thrusting through the gaps in their comrades'' defense. Their coordination was impeccable.


    The two masked men, despite their screams and blood loss, continued their relentless assault. It struck me as odd. Something wasn''t right, and my instincts, honed by games and fantasy novels, urged caution.


    My gaze turned toward Cornwall and his bald companion, both of whom remained by the gate.


    "UnderLord!" the bald man shrieked, his eerie robe and crimson eyes lending him a reptilian appearance. He raised both arms and thrust a knife into his own neck, blood spewing forth before he collapsed.


    I stood in dumbfounded shock, unable to react. Then, with a noise like a deflating balloon, the reptilian man crumpled, bathed in his own blood. Cornwall remained unmoved.


    Bam! An explosion echoed through the square. A section of the pavement ruptured, revealing an entrance to the sewers. From the depths, a massive, black, bone-like leg emerged, resembling that of a colossal crustacean.


    "Kyu-gree! Kyu-gree!" A metallic screech pierced the air, its source hidden from view. Panic rippled through the crowd.


    "It''s a monster!"


    "A fiend!"


    As the leg extended further, a fiendish skull with glowing eye sockets emerged. The chaos intensified as guards and adventurers tried to evacuate the frightened onlookers.


    Did the man take his life to bring that thing forth? I wondered. He called it an Underlord, akin to a fiend devil or god. It resembled a grotesque fusion of a giant shrimp and a twisted crustacean, enlarged to the size of a city bus.


    Surprisingly, I felt strangely calm amid the chaos. Perhaps it was because my fear had reached such an overwhelming peak that it became imperceptible.


    "Flagellum Ignis!" Eryn''s voice sliced through the air, followed by a whip of fire that ensnared the Underlord. The fiendish skull atop it shrieked and rattled.


    David, Ted, and Philip, the vanguard of Petr''s party, charged toward the Underlord, while other groups of adventurers and guards drew their weapons.


    "What should we do, Lord Xandros?!" the leader of my guard unit cried out.


    "Hold your positions for ten more seconds!" I shouted over the chaos. We had to deal with Cornwall first, as quickly as possible, and then confront the monstrous threat.


    I berated myself for not acting sooner when Cornwall initially revealed himself, but self-recrimination would have to wait. My focus had to be on the immediate danger.


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    "Hold Pers¡ª"


    "Silentium!"


    As I began casting a spell to incapacitate Cornwall, he uttered an incantation. I tried to ignore it and proceed, but...


    "¡­?! ¡­!"


    I attempted to speak, but there was no sound, no noise from my surroundings.


    Silence! My thoughts screamed in the oppressive quietude.


    Dread settled upon me like a shroud, a cold sweat forming on my brow. What should I do? Panic surged within as I faced the looming threat of Silence, the world now eerily silent. Eryn''s fire whip had vanished, her advice echoing in my mind: "Move out of the affected area."


    Desperation guided my actions as I waved frantically, trying to catch the guards'' attention. I pointed toward Cornwall and bolted, sprinting as fast as I could. Ten meters? Perhaps. I raced onward, the oppressive silence finally broken by a chilling command.


    "Kill them! Kill them so they can never mock me again!"


    I skidded to a stop, having escaped the sphere of Silence.


    "Charge! Charge!" The leader of my guard unit''s shout rang out.


    The guards rushed forward, weapons in hand, their target now Cornwall. He fell mid-laugh, a spray of blood marking his demise. The guards swiftly moved to subdue him.


    With Cornwall dealt with, I turned my attention back to Petr''s party, still locked in combat with the monstrous fiend. But then, four shadows descended upon me from above, catching me off guard.


    These must be the elusive dark elves we failed to capture, I realized. Cornwall''s final gambit, keeping assassins near the gate to lure me within striking range. Each dark elf wielded a gleaming blade, poised for a swift, deadly assault.


    Had I cast Invincibility today? I wondered, unsure of the spell''s status. Three dark elves remained, and their knives seemed to inch closer in slow motion, destined for my throat and vital organs.


    "Master!" A husky, feminine voice cried out, and suddenly, a dark-skinned, beastly woman flashed before my eyes. Her lithe limbs moved like lightning, striking the dark elves with lethal precision. It happened so quickly that I struggled to follow each movement.


    "Urgh?!"


    "Guh?!"


    "Oof!"


    By the time she knelt before me, the three dark elves lay sprawled upon the ground, incapacitated.


    "Lord Xandros!"


    "Are you alright?!"


    Guard members, who had been busy restraining Cornwall, noticed the sudden commotion and hurried over.


    "Master! I went against your orders! Please forgive me!" The dark-skinned woman before me finally jogged my memory.


    "Now''s not the time for that, Ravon!" I replied urgently.


    "Gyah!"


    "Uwaah!"


    For the common guards and the other adventuring parties, the Underlord proved an insurmountable terror. Their courage was commendable, yet the mere sweep of the Underlord''s colossal limbs kept them grounded, their valor outweighed by the sheer monstrosity before them.


    Only Petr''s party continued to resist.


    "Gyaree! Gyuree!"


    "This thing''s beyond belief!" Greg exclaimed.


    "Fall back! Fall back!" David yelled.


    The Underlord, if it were to extend its legs fully, likely spanned between ten and twenty meters in diameter¡ªa nightmarish adversary. Petr''s party fought valiantly, but even Petr''s arrows and Vaness''s throwing daggers appeared ineffective. Eryn''s weaving seemed pushed to its limits.


    Under Petr''s orders, David, Greg, and Philip constantly shifted their positions on the ground, diverting the Underlord''s attention. They raised their shields to parry its limbs, rolled across the ground, and narrowly evaded its attacks. Their strategy was effective, but watching them made my anxiety soar.


    "Lord Xandros! What''s our move?" cried the leader of my guard unit.


    "Master, if you command, I''m ready to sacrifice myself to bring down that monster," said Ravon. I chose to ignore her.


    "Protect me and ensure nothing disrupts me this time," I instructed.


    I had already settled on the spell I would cast.


    With some relief, I heard my voice carry through. I''ve come this far, I thought. Regardless of what awaits me, I must complete this spell now.


    "Gyuree!"


    "Ugh!"


    "David!"


    The fiendish skull mounted on the Underlord''s back opened its maw and unleashed something resembling thorns. One of these thorns, as large as a short sword, sliced into David''s thigh. Greg raised his shield in a desperate attempt to shield David, but a powerful blow from the Underlord''s leg sent him crashing to the ground.


    "Disintegrate!"


    A small, white orb of light formed at the tip of my staff. I focused my intent and thrust it forward, the light extending into a radiant beam that shot toward the rampaging Underlord. It disappeared from view, absorbed into the creature''s monstrous form.


    I took a deep, steadying breath.


    "Gye?!"


    The colossal, eight-legged beast began to disintegrate from within.


    No explosion rocked the square, no searing heat engulfed it. It was as if a colossal hammer had shattered an ice sculpture. Initially, the Underlord splintered into dozens of fragments, which then fragmented further into thousands of smaller pieces, all ultimately dissolving into nothingness.


    "W-what just happened?"


    "The monster just..."


    "I-It turned to dust..."


    The entire square, including the fleeing civilians, the guards, and even Petr''s party, stood in stunned silence.


    Amidst the hushed square, I clung to my Staff, utterly drained.


    "That was utterly exhausting..."


    According to his own confession, Cornwall was apprehended for his affiliation with the Cultists. In the aftermath of the investigation, the reptilian man and that peculiar creature remained only partially identified. My heart ached for the victims of their malevolent actions, but we managed to offer some solace to their bereaved families by recovering some of their remains. Meanwhile, Cornwall endured a rigorous interrogation regarding the nature of his deeds.


    The quartet of dark elf assassins all hailed from Ravon''s tribe, and as I suspected, their expressions were vacant upon capture. I employed Remove Curse to restore them to their normal selves. However, akin to Ravon, they, too, considered me their master, pledging unwavering loyalty.


    Ravon had successfully convinced them of my leadership, and my words couldn''t sway their conviction. Despite the circumstances, I remained resolute about ensuring they faced a fair trial within the city.


    While awaiting the trial of the dark elves, I held meetings with the Weavers'' Guild and The Scribes and Binders'' Guild to procure materials for copying my spellbook. Additionally, I busied myself with hiring staff for Castle Ameria. Time passed quickly. Numerous nobles and merchants were arrested in connection with Cornwall''s crimes, and shocking revelations emerged about an entire village''s conversion to fiendism.


    As the investigation delved deeper, it became evident that the Cultists had extensively and systematically employed dark elves to carry out their nefarious deeds. The mounting evidence against Ravon and the other elves weighed heavily on my heart as the trial date drew near.


    However, when the day of the trial arrived, I discovered that Dravus''s justice system differed markedly from my expectations.


    The trial unfolded in the expansive square before the city hall. I sat facing the judge, flanked by jurors on either side. The captain of the guard served as the public prosecutor on my right, while the five dark elf defendants and their lawyers sat to my left.


    The setup was conventional, but it bore no resemblance to the grave and solemn atmosphere typically associated with legal proceedings. Instead, it felt like a festival. The square teemed with spectators, the crowd spilling into the streets and canals.


    My role in the trial was that of a guarantor. While the majority of the jury determined the verdict, the guarantor held the most influence, and it depended more on who the guarantor was rather than their words. If the guarantor was someone respected and trusted by the jurors, it implied that the defendant was also trustworthy. Though this system couldn''t be called fair, in a world without scientific evidence or universal human rights, it made some sense as a means of maintaining peace and minimizing disputes.


    Ultimately, given my substantial fame and trustworthiness in Vandaris at the time, there was no doubt that both Ravon and the other dark elves would be acquitted.


    Neither the chairman nor the captain of the guard had any intention of retaining such troublesome individuals as the five dark elves. From their perspective, detaining them would prove more troublesome than it was worth. On the flip side, they could frame the leniency of the trial as a favor to me.


    "And so," I concluded the statement I had been given to read, "these dark elves were ensnared by the wicked machinations of the Cultists. I''ve dispelled this curse and assure that these elves will become upright citizens."


    "That''s right!"


    "Let''s hear it for Xandros! Our savior Xandros!"


    With each word I uttered, cheers erupted from the spectators. Surprisingly, confronting Cultists and an Underlord in front of a massive crowd had a profound impact on my popularity. While the turn of events was unexpected, I had no choice but to accept the workings of Dravus''s legal system.


    Once my scripted part was over, the judge proclaimed, "I shall now announce the verdict! Due to a unanimous decision by the jury, all defendants are acquitted of all charges!"


    "Master!"


    As soon as the judge declared the dark elves'' innocence, they discarded their handcuffs as if they were mere trinkets and knelt before me. My initial plan to provide them time to reconsider their decision to serve me had been swept away like a fleeting cloud.


    "We can never thank you enough for advocating on our behalf," said Ravon.


    "From now on, like sister Ravonica, we, too, will serve you," one of the others added.


    The spectacle continued, with cheering spectators, trumpets sounding, and confetti filling the air. I felt troubled. What was I going to do now? I pondered, breaking into a cold sweat. I couldn''t deny that the idea of several beautiful women catering to my needs was appealing, but practically speaking, how could I manage the lives of five additional people? Forty years of a single life had not prepared me to care for five dependents.


    "Well, what''s done is done," I conceded. "For now, it seems our fates are intertwined."


    After all, I was certain that the families of the dark elves'' victims still resided in Vandaris. With an official atonement for the elves'' actions no longer possible, I had no choice but to take charge of their penance by involving them in the city''s defense. If possible, I thought, I should find a way to compensate the bereaved families through the city council, attempting to quell any lingering resentment over the trial''s outcome.


    However, the day was far from over. Shortly after the trial''s conclusion, Chairman Budow approached me and informed me that I would be participating in a parade celebrating the defeat of the Cultists.


    "Lord Xandros!"


    "Our hero, the Archmage!"


    "All hail Lord Xandros! Savior of Vandaris!"


    "Petr!"


    "Eryn!"


    I was seated on a grand riverboat adorned with vibrant flowers, flags, and lanterns. It felt as though I were riding in the back of an open convertible for a street parade. Both banks of the canal and the intermittent bridges were packed with spectators who showered us with flowers, confetti, cheers, and wine.


    Petr and the four other members of his standard party stood at the front of the ship, revered adventurers in Vandaris, their names chanted by adoring fans.


    Ravon sat to my right, Eryn to my


    left. I suggested to Budow that Eryn should stand with Petr''s party, but he insisted that I would look better flanked by two beautiful women, and he wouldn''t be swayed. The other four dark elves encircled us without much ado.


    Initially, Eryn protested sitting beside me, but once we boarded the ship, she wore a radiant smile, elegantly waving to the crowd as if she were a nobleman''s daughter. In contrast, Ravon remained alert and vigilant, her lavender eyes reflecting a stern resolve to keep anyone who might threaten me at bay. Yet, she also carried an air of pride in the fact that her master was receiving such acclaim.


    I, on the other hand, wore a strained expression; I was deeply uncomfortable.


    "I''m truly not cut out for this..." I muttered.


    "Considering your aspirations, events like this are necessary," Eryn responded with an unusual hint of concern.


    "Really? All this?"


    "Most of the city''s people have an ingrained fear of fiends, to the point where they''re afraid to sleep at night. Think of this as helping them rest easier. It''s one way to protect everyone from fiends, wouldn''t you agree?"


    Eryn''s tone was gentle but carried an underlying determination. She was determined not to let me forget that if I were to wear the ArchMage mask, maintaining the fa?ade was an essential part of the job.


    "If you understand," Eryn continued, reverting to her usual high-and-mighty speech, "you ought to stand tall and take pride in it. Everyone expects that of you."


    "Including me," she added, blushing slightly at the end.


    "Well, this is a role I chose for myself," I conceded. "As you say, meeting others'' expectations is part of the job."


    As laden with doubt as I was, I had made it this far with some help from my friends¡ªa forty-year-old man on a journey of self-discovery. If it were any easier, I might not have gained as much from the journey. Some answers in this world could only be found through relentless self-questioning.


    With that in mind, I had no choice but to keep moving forward, no matter how hesitant I felt.


    I stood and raised my Staff high into the air.

 Resonance of Fire and Ice: A Heros Arrival

    A village besieged, its very existence threatened by the merciless fiends. We descended from the sky, our arrival like a divine intervention in the heart of the beleaguered town square. If we had chosen to travel by foot, like ordinary folk, the journey to this remote mountain enclave would have consumed three long days. But we were no ordinary travelers; we were a fellowship bound by destiny and purpose.


    The cursed fiends, their twisted forms adorned with blood-red skin and eyes aflame with malevolence, ravaged the once-tranquil village. They were Curselings, a common breed of fiend, their sinister presence casting a pall over this once-idyllic hamlet. At the heart of the town square stood a modest stone church, its stony facade a last bastion of refuge for the surviving villagers. A desperate barricade held the fiendish horde at bay, their inhuman cries a cacophony of ire and rage.


    A guttural cry, a plea for salvation, pierced the chaos. It was a voice of one of the beleaguered villagers, their life hanging in the balance. The Curselings, their malevolence unchecked, closed in on the helpless souls, their crimson eyes gleaming with malicious glee.


    I, too, felt the chill of apprehension crawling up my spine. The battlefield was no stranger to me, but never before had I witnessed fiends targeting ordinary, everyday people. The weight of fear and doubt bore down upon me, clenching my heart in an icy grip.


    In mere moments, the fiends were upon us, a seething maelstrom of violence and malevolence. The lifeless forms of villagers lay strewn about, their lives extinguished in an instant. Though the sight of such carnage was horrifying, we had arrived in time to offer salvation to those still clinging to life. It was a grim solace, but one we could not forsake.


    ¡°Greee!¡± The chilling shriek of a Curseling resonated through the air, followed by a crash. An arrow, swift and unerring, had pierced the fiend''s neck, emerging in a gruesome testament to Petr''s deadly accuracy.


    ¡°Fall in around Xandros. Vaness, verify the situation in the church,¡± Petr commanded, his voice unwavering despite the chaos that surrounded us.


    ¡°Got it!¡± Eryn and Vaness replied in unison.


    Petr, our fearless leader, displayed unparalleled prowess with his bow, his calm demeanor a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos. He had a plan: we would create a defensive perimeter, protecting Eryn and me as we prepared to face the relentless fiendish onslaught. Petr''s tactical genius shone even in the darkest of moments.


    ¡°I shall protect you, Lord Xandros!¡± Greg declared, his resolve unwavering.


    ¡°They deserve no mercy!¡± David snarled, his fury channeled into each mighty blow.


    ¡°May Ashginea be with you!¡± Philip intoned, his priestly blessings amplifying our strength.


    The trio, a steadfast shield against the fiends'' relentless assault, fended off the Curselings with unwavering determination. Curselings, despite their childlike appearance, possessed an unnatural strength and an unyielding malevolence. They pressed forward with crude weapons, mindlessly swinging anything they could grasp.


    Our fellow adventurers, warriors of exceptional skill, held the line against the fiendish tide. Eryn and I, invoking the power of our magic, rained destruction upon the fiends, reducing them to lifeless husks one by one. The harmony of our actions allowed us to hold our own amidst the gruesome battle, and the realization that my life was safeguarded by allies of such unwavering determination filled me with profound gratitude.


    Yet, as I surveyed the grim tableau, my thoughts raced to the impending challenges we faced, and I couldn''t help but wonder: What more could we do, what spells should I wield, to safeguard this village, these innocent lives... and our own?


    The cries of villagers, their desperate pleas for salvation, resonated through the beleaguered village, mingling with the blood-chilling roars of the Curselings. Petr, ever the pragmatic leader, wasted no time contemplating the weaver''s query; he knew what had to be done.


    "Xandros, you''re up. Handle it," he directed, his voice firm and resolute.


    "R-Right!" I stammered, acknowledging the burden of responsibility that came with my powers. This party was not comprised of ordinary adventurers; they hailed from the land of Dravus, where magic was a rare and precious gift. Petr had an unwavering trust in my abilities as an Archmage, understanding the unprecedented potential I represented.


    The eerie warp of the atmosphere heralded the emergence of my chosen spell. From that rippling space, towering over two meters and encased in formidable reddish-brown skin, six massive creatures stepped forth. Ogres, they were, grotesque and fearsome in appearance, summoned into existence by my incantation.


    Summon Monster, my trusted spell, had brought them into our midst. Their presence alone struck awe and trepidation into the hearts of even seasoned adventurers like Greg and David.


    "Spread out and protect the villagers! Slay the fiends!" I commanded, assigning them their duty. The ogres, granted both physical might and intelligence, charged into the fray, their formidable presence quelling the Curselings'' advance.


    A single ogre, I surmised, could easily dispatch ten to twenty Curselings. With one more spell slot available for summoning, I weighed my options, pondering whether to summon additional reinforcements.


    Eryn''s voice, laced with admiration and a hint of jealousy, broke my concentration. "I swear, your magic is absolutely confounding," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the intimidating ogres executing my orders with unwavering loyalty. Eryn was a weaver of exceptional talent, wielding the native magic system of Dravus known as weaving. But the fundamental principles of my magic, wizardry, and the world''s weaving differed profoundly.


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    "But weaving is incredible in its own right," I offered, seeking to acknowledge her prowess. Her response came in the form of Ignis Sagitta, an arrow of fire that struck a Curseling, setting it ablaze in a mere heartbeat. The speed and precision of weaving were truly unparalleled.


    Amid the fiery chaos, a sudden warning from Petr pierced the air, almost in tandem with a massive fiend emerging from the shadows. The colossal creature, larger even than the ogres, wielded a makeshift weapon ripped from some unfortunate building. In a single brutal strike, it crushed an ogre''s head, displaying a level of strength and brutality unlike any fiend I had encountered.


    "Is that really a fiend?" Petr pondered, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It''s like none I''ve ever seen. Are they mutating somehow?"


    David added his concern, his words dripping with apprehension. "Whatever it is, it''s bad news."


    I concurred with their assessment, for before us stood a netherhulk of unparalleled proportions. Its towering frame, nearly three meters in height, was adorned with gnarled horns resembling elk antlers, and spikes protruding menacingly from its shoulders, elbows, and spine. This living aberration was unlike any other fiend I had encountered, and it led a horde of Curselings in a relentless charge toward the humble village church.


    Petr''s expectant gaze shifted to me as he continued to dispatch Curselings with his precise archery. "That thing''s under your jurisdiction, too, Xandros. Handle it."


    I nodded, acknowledging the urgency of the situation. Time was of the essence, and calling back the dispersed ogres was not an option. I had but one choice, and I knew precisely which spell to invoke.


    Time pressed upon us, and there was no luxury for hesitation. As I began to weave my spell, Eryn took her stand beside me, determination etched across her features. With staff held high, she chanted another incantation, "Ignis Lancia!"


    This iteration of "Ignis" was more potent, summoning searing flames that coalesced into a crimson lance, stretching nearly two meters in length. Its fiery path left a trail of scarlet brilliance as it streaked towards the formidable fiend.


    The creature, fixated on the village''s defenseless church, had its back turned to us, oblivious to the impending threat. The brilliant crimson flames of Lancia engulfed its hardened hide, setting it ablaze.


    "Gi?! Grruuooowww!" The fiend''s agonized howls pierced the air as flames consumed its form. But to our dismay, the creature refused to be vanquished.


    "It''s still moving?!" Eryn exclaimed in frustration.


    Despite the fiery assault, the fiend remained undeterred. With a bellow of hatred, it shifted its focus to us, charging ahead with its makeshift club ablaze. Its horde of Curselings followed suit.


    "...As a consequence of this spell, a hail of rock-hard ice pounds to the ground in a 20-foot-radius, 40-foot-high cylinder centered on a point within range. Ice Storm!"


    Eryn''s diversion, though it hadn''t subdued the fiend, provided me with the precious seconds needed to complete my incantation. Weaving, a manipulation of the world''s mana, stood in stark contrast to the arcane energy I commanded, drawn from an external realm. My spells adhered strictly to their programmed commands, reshaping reality to my will.


    Suddenly, the irregular fiend found itself ensnared in a vortex of freezing winds, lacerated by razor-sharp hail. "Gi-giiii?! Gi¡­!" it screamed, its wretched cries echoing through the tempest.


    The icy winds descended upon it, freezing flesh and blood, turning the fiends into lifeless statues encased in a silvery pillar. The storm''s fury knew no bounds, dispersing only after a few harrowing seconds. All that remained were scattered chunks of frozen meat, indistinguishable between Curselings and the monstrous fiend.


    "Ew¡­" I could not help but gag at the grotesque sight that met my eyes.


    "This is on par with extremely high-rank ice weaving," Eryn assessed, her pallor matching my own. "No... scratch that, this is vastly more powerful..."


    Her remark reminded me of the stark differences between the two magic systems. Fireball, a spell of equivalent potency on paper, had been a risky choice due to potential collateral damage. Thus, I had opted for Ice Storm, a Level 4 spell in a world that reached Level 9. I chose to keep this tidbit to myself, recognizing the unorthodox nature of my magical prowess.


    Before long, we managed to vanquish the fiends that had plagued the village, albeit too late to save many lives. Philip, our warrior-priest, employed his divine weaving to heal the survivors, alongside my meager supply of healing magic. Yet, the weight of guilt lingered in my chest, a persistent reminder that our arrival had come moments too late.


    Amidst the pervasive despair that shrouded the village, I found myself within the church, now repurposed as an impromptu morgue. Regret gnawed at me as I muttered, "I feel so awful when I think about it... What a difference a mere hour could have made..."


    Eryn offered a gentle reassurance, her voice filled with compassion. "You shouldn''t fret too much over it."


    Her own respect for the fallen found expression as she held her hands against her bosom, uttering a silent prayer. Eryn Marion, an aristocrat and a formidable weaver, bore the weight of her own experiences as an adventurer. Her strength, both in magic and character, was undeniable, complemented by her striking beauty.


    Golden tresses framed her exquisite face, and her presence, even amidst this grim scene, radiated a certain grace and hope. It was a simple truth that the presence of a beautiful woman could shift one''s perspective, even amidst the darkest moments. Men, I mused, were undeniably uncomplicated creatures.


    "You did the best you could," Eryn reassured me. "Your efforts did not go unnoticed by the creator-god Rikon, nor by the winter protector, Alissanni."


    "I hope you''re right."


    The circumstances leading to our arrival had been anything but timely. I had received word of the fiend attack merely an hour ago, while the first sighting of fiends near the village dated back ten days. Two days ago, the onslaught had begun, and the village''s plea for aid had reached the Solomahni forces. However, the delay in their response remained a perplexing mystery.


    Our presence in this desperate hour had been facilitated by Leo, a merchant friend who coincidentally found himself in Solomahn for business. His timely message had prompted our hasty journey to the village, thanks to the intricate network of water transportation between Vandaris and Solomahn.


    The fiends'' rampage would have claimed countless more lives had Leo not intervened. The unanswered question, however, remained: Where were the Solomahni forces all this time?


    "What were the Solomahni forces doing this whole time...?" I grumbled in frustration.


    Eryn provided insight into the state of affairs. "The Weavers'' Guilds and troops affiliated with the various cities in Lumeos are supposed to offer assistance whenever fiends appear. We''re able to respond better than other regions since we can utilize Lake Lumeos for transportation and communication..."


    Her somber tone mirrored the inadequacies of Dravus''s anti-fiend measures. "I guess no matter where you are, things never run as smoothly as you''d hope," I mused, gazing upon a statue of the winter protector, Alissanni, enshrined within the church. Her stony visage, brandishing a sword and cloak, watched over us in stoic silence.