ã€ŠHitchhiker Hero. [Isekai/Progression Fantasy]ã€‹


 Prologue

    Rain poured from the heavens, its relentless drumming rhythmic and loud. Puddles rapidly formed in every gap and crevice, reflecting the light of street signs and lampposts. A howling wind picked up, scattering crumpled newspapers across the side of a rundown building adorned with graffiti and decay.

    A light as bright as the sun engulfed an alleyway and the figure of a man materialised from dust and smoke. Straining to breathe, his muscles ached from the sudden shift to form. He released an exhausted breath, keeling over in pain. Not only did his body protest, but his soul felt as if someone had dragged it through the eye of a needle and poured it out the other side.

    He felt the world lurch, shaky beneath him. He rose, pain shooting up his knees. Cracking his neck with a satisfied pop, he looked down at a puddle of water. Reflected in the pool, his mismatched eyes glared back at him, green and blue.

    The oddity still sent shivers down his spine, tiny needles prickling his skin. Slowly, the world came into focus. By reflex, he assumed a seated position, cross-legged, and the world went dark, his eyes giving way to weariness. He muttered in a strange language and felt the ground vibrate beneath him, every chant it rose like a pulse.

    An intricate diagram manifested below him. Sparing a peek, he could barely keep track of the glowing symbols constantly shifting in and out of phase. Pain lanced through his body and blinding light engulfed his vision.

    Gritting his teeth, he felt a slight give, something unlatched within. Objects poured from his chest, arms and legs, clattering to the floor. They comprised a curved silver dagger, a glowing wand, rune-etched pendants and medallions. Despite the cornucopia of items, he felt his gaze drawn to a single item.

    A leather-bound grimoire, held closed by a latch. He felt the intricate design, the soft thrum of power vibrating through his palm. Memories came to the forefront of his mind, the adrenaline of flight, a stolen book.

    "You better be worth all the trouble." He muttered to himself.

    In the periphery, he noticed a wisp of plastic. Garbage bags were strewn about. Gathering them up, he placed the artefacts within, tying them off and slinging them over his shoulder.

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    What remained was a small pendant. He froze, and his grip tightened around the article. He could feel his eyes growing moist. With a substantial force of will, he held back the tide of raw emotion.

    He opened the latch, revealing the portrait of a woman. His gaze lost on the image, he released a wary breath and closed the latch. He felt the sensation of cold metal as the chain adorned his neck. Rising to his feet, he turned to the exit.

    With a sense of his environment reclaimed, he could now fathom the world around him. Not the mundane senses, but something more instinctual. It was a feeling he had ever since he cast his first spell and branded his first rune. The feeling of power, a sublime connection to an ever-present energy that pervaded the entire world.

    Standing at the entrance of a filthy alley, the sights and sounds were familiar, lampposts, darkened streets and parked cars. With all the trappings of modern life, this was earth, it felt like home.

    Despite returning to his mother-world, there was immediate repulsion. Going stiff, his senses desperately tried to locate the familiar sensation. But in the end, he felt nothing. This world was void of a precious gift.

    "The world is dead."

    He recalled the feeling, the pulse, the thrum of power. He felt sick, not a physical sensation, his soul cried out for sustenance. Receiving not a sliver, he imagined it cannibalising itself just to keep satisfied. Shivering at the thought of the day, it would run out.

    His mind raced over ideas he had prepared, but no preparation was perfect. Feeling for a tether, something to hold on to. The sensation of warmth and life poured over him the moment his soul made contact.

    A sense of a sphere, not physical anymore. He could feel neither form nor matter. It dwelled within a store of power, a reservoir of hope. He shivered, the sensation overwhelmed him and he was content. But he knew it wouldn''t last, nothing lasts forever.

    Taking his first steps in this known yet unknown land. His fists clenched, and he shrugged away the tension in his shoulders. Keeping the feeling of raw power, his steps were resolute and final.

 Chapter 1 - Five Months Later

    He awoke from a restless slumber. These past five months were a blur, and he ached for a good night¡¯s rest. Busy life and the steady influx of coffee mitigated this state of affairs.

    The alarm blared in the background, and he briefly pondered flinging the offending object into the wall with his mind. But thought better of it. That would be a waste of mana. He recalled every drain on his power and he shuddered.

    He laboured to the opposite side of the bed; he found nothing but a lifeless and empty mattress. His groggy senses detected a body sleeping beside him. But it was an illusion, a mirage of a past he was trying desperately to return to.

    He allowed the alarm clock to live for the hundredth time. He groaned and tapped the screen to silence the irritating, generic wake-up music. Leaving his bed, his fingers traced the wild forest that was his hair.

    Giving up, he headed towards the bathroom, the cold tiles prickling his feet. Getting the morning tasks out of the way, he groaned in satisfaction as the shower did its work. Piping hot water streamed down his body, dripping down his tattoos from his neck to his calves. Each was an exotic work of art, complex and intricate.

    The shower was hot with steam, but he barely noticed it as the heat dragged him out of the last remnants of sleep. Typical of a shower, his thoughts trailed off in many directions.

    It¡¯s been five months, Alistair, and not a single bite. It¡¯s like fishing in a pond where you can¡¯t see the fish. He mentally cursed his luck. If this continues, I will eventually run out of mana. Even if I use it sparingly, it drains away on this mana-depleted world.

    He thought back to how he got here. Summoned to a world he didn¡¯t know, charged with saving it from some great threat. He threw his head back. A chuckle escaped his lips, the corners of his mouth raised at the absurdity of his noble mission. They talked big when they just pissed off a dragon and tired of throwing knights at him.

    He recalled how that failing kingdom invoked summoning magic outlawed across the entire continent. They were under threat of a kingdom-ending dragon, so you can¡¯t fault them for being desperate.

    He wondered what happened to them. They were spiralling to ruin even with the dragon situation dealt with. But they still had the power to send me back, even with my preparations and my goodbyes to the people I loved. It still hurt to be dragged away, even to my home. He felt his smile widen despite himself. It was a bitter irony.

    He could swear he could feel her even now. The phantom caress of her hand sent chills down his spine. Despite the time away, her embrace never left. Shaking his head, he let the unpleasant memories wash down the drain and turned to more practical thoughts.

    My magic will soon fade away. I had used too much over the last few months. The experiments with the orb, maintaining my spells, and don¡¯t forget about the Los Padros incident. Viva Los Padros and their casinos. I still have all my fingers, assholes. He left the shower, drying himself off in front of the mirror.

    Wiping away the condensation, he inspected himself. The man reflected in the mirror looked haggard and worn. Life on a magical budget had taken its toll. The lack of progress drained him, and getting back to Matesh weighed heavily on his soul, literally and figuratively.

    Brushing his teeth, he got dressed in the typical business suit and tie. He tried to have a quick breakfast, but the toast was just bland. He had noticed that ever since he arrived on Earth, very little gave him joy. It was probably all just in his head, but that didn¡¯t change the effects.

    Scanning for coffee and finding none, he let out a tired sigh. Deciding to vacate to his favourite cafe for a decent cup. The place was going under when he found it. Memories of the thrilling aroma and taste compelled him to save the place. He became a secret investor to keep it afloat. All because they made a damn fine cup of coffee.

    He left the modest kitchen and went downstairs. The place was an antique shop he had gained to live and work out of. It was all a cover, just to show a legitimate business front.

    He passed through the shop, casting a glance at the artefacts and antiques scattered about. He felt the faint thrum of power ending from the less-than-mundane artefacts. They were another bit of bait, just in case there was anybody of a magical variety around these parts.

    Like his other project, not been a single bite so far. He stretched his shoulders, trying to undo that knot on his back. He made his way out the door and started down the street to his favourite destination.

    Upon arriving, the small cafe was across from a busy street filled with honking cars and shouting drivers. The cafe was quiet in comparison and had only a few patrons. The much larger coffee shop brought this situation about directly across the street.

    I could see customers streaming out of the doorway. Regardless, the atmosphere was calm and solemn. Each of the patrons appreciated the quiet. He felt the tension ease away the moment he sat down. The ergonomic chairs he got the owner to buy held him like a babe in its mother''s grasp.

    In the corner, he sat, a steaming cup of black coffee, lay in front of him. Beside it was a tablet. Sprawled across the screen were several journal articles displaying current events. At the top was the date, July 10th, 2022. The Soviet Union denies allegations of reactivating missile silos in Lithuania. United States President Wellington accused the Soviets of encroaching on the northern border of South Korea. The Empire of Japan expresses neutrality regarding this conflict. By swiping to the side, Alistair removed the tabs, leaving only a picture of a Tibetan monastery.

    Taking a sip of coffee, he looked out the window, surveying the scene. He felt his jaw tense and frown break away from his lips at the sight of a family leaving their apartment. The family comprised a blonde-haired man in his forties, wearing a casual business suit. The woman, a black pantsuit and skirt. She had dark hair cascading down her shoulders.

    Both wore gold wedding rings and ferried a young girl down the stairs. She looked to be around five years old, with long blonde hair and an inquisitive look on her adorable, pudgy face.

    He watched them as they left the building and walked down the street. The child swung between her parents, skipping and happy. Not a care in the world, her childlike innocence, a great comfort to even the heaviest of hearts. Once they were out of sight, the tension eased. Taking another sip, he spaced out, only brought back by the ring of his smartphone.

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    He tapped the call button, pressing it to his ear. A deep voice emitted from the speaker. "Alistair, I have some good news for you. The one on the phone, despite not hearing a reply, continued. "Can you at least be a little excited? I got a good price although the piece did not have any provenance.

    His little speech was pleading and directed to the epitome of indifference. He sighed dejectedly, accepting the facts as they came.

    Alistair finally responded. "I''m still waiting on the price, Jeremy." His voice was neither soft nor deep. It was slick and refined, almost melodic.

    He waited for the desired response, noting a rustling of papers in the background. He took another sip of his coffee, grunting in satisfaction.

    Jeremy sighed again, answering the query. "Five hundred thousand!" He announced the figure with pride. He expected to be praised, sounding confident in his belief. The silence that followed told a different story. The lack of reply flustered the man and so he resigned to patience.

    Alistair cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing. His eyes drifted to a familiar waitress, her long dark hair. The cafe faded away, transforming her uniform into a ball gown of golden lace. He could almost hear her laughter, that coy and mischievous smile.

    Shaking his head, he dismissed the memories. "I find the figure acceptable. Transfer the money to my account, minus your commission."

    The man on the other line let out a dejected sigh, accepting his fate. "Of course, my friend, I will do so. But come on, you are now a multimillionaire, get excited will you!" His deep voice spiked, and the words tumbled out with a playful edge.

    Despite Jeremy''s attempts, they fell on deaf ears. Alistair bid him farewell and hung up the call. Now, with his peace reclaimed, he let himself drift in peace. Thoughts drained away, slipping into the void.

    Before he could fall into slumber, he awoke and looked around. Realising he hadn''t fallen asleep, he smiled. That would have been awkward for the patrons. He took another sip. The warmth slid down his throat and into his belly.

    Suddenly, a jolt of electricity coursed through him, inflaming his senses with a specific thought. He knew what that meant and knew what he had to do. Despite his efforts to keep it at bay, his mouth turned up into a grin.

    Turning to his hands, he rolled up his left sleeve. He had a tattoo of a runic symbol painted on his forearm. The symbols seemed to move in a circular pattern, surrounding a central orb. Blood spilled from his finger, dripping dark red blood.

    Pressing the bloodied appendage to the tattoo, tracing a circle and tapping the centre. The surrounding space warped, yet none of the other patrons seemed to notice. Alistair melted away. The sensation was familiar and always uncomfortable.

    Across town in a small rustic store, labelled Ancient Antiques Emporium. Alistair reappeared in the basement. Materialising atop a pedestal inlaid with runic carvings, all shimmering with an ethereal light.

    He stood up slowly, determination in his eyes. He fished a band-aid from his jacket and wrapped the bleeding finger. Basic field medicine complete, he swiftly made his way to the pedestal.

    Standing in the centre, rolling up both sleeves, he settled cross-legged on the ground. Rewritten: As he thrust his arms forward, his tattoos merged into a seamless pattern. The two semi-circles united to complete their form, casting a radiant light.

    He looked to the heavens, his senses passing through concrete and mundane forms of matter. The room shook, Alistair held his own and pressed his arms together. Space warped all around him. Exotic colours bled into reality and the world was akin to an oil painting. His sense of reality skewed, and he suddenly vanished from the room.

    Right before his eyes, the world lurched with a loud crack of lightning. Smoke and gasping voices replaced the dull basement. Getting his bearings, he turned to the side, and several indistinct shapes appeared from the smoke. His thoughts were fuzzy, pushed away by a glorious sensation throughout his body.

    The sensation enveloped his entire being, akin to sweet oxygen, when deprived for so long. The reservoir of power within refilled to the maximum and the delightful sensation reached grander heights. Snapping himself back to reality, he noticed the smoke dissipating.

    Rolling up his sleeves and pressing his hand to another tattoo on his forearm. It shimmered out of phase with reality. Seeping over his entire body, rendering him completely invisible.

    Assured he would be unnoticed, Alistair slowly moved to the side, stopping in his tracks. On the side, Alistair slowly moved, stopping in his tracks, assured he would be unnoticed. Surrounded, he remained where he was.

    Remaining stationary, he watched and waited. The smoke cleared, revealing a gaudy and massive throne room. It had all the trappings of medieval wealth. Gold, silver, and stone enveloped the space. A golden throne was the main event.

    Seated was an old man, perhaps in his sixties. He wore a gold, red tunic and embroidered cape. His crown was equally gaudy, with many jewels embedded around the rim. The King watched on with a sour look, and the smoke finally cleared.

    Now, with the literal air cleared, his smile widened with a toothy grin. He turned to the man at his side, resembling an equally gaudy wizard. He had the hat, the staff and all the stuff that would make Henry Patter proud.

    "Juro, you have done well! I was sceptical you could summon the trinity." The King¡¯s gruff voice resonated through the space, reaching everyone with an air of authority.

    Remaining in the background, Alistair moved to the side, blending into the crowd. Observing, he watched the events unfold. In the centre of a runic symbol, adorned with many unfamiliar runes, three young people emerged.

    Observing their appearances, Alistair scowled in disbelief. They are just kids, no older than teenagers. There must be a mistake in the summoning. The gloomy thought pervaded his mind, conjuring gruesome images of lifeless children. Struck down in their youth and their lives wasted away.

    The King remained seated, gazing intently at the bewildered teenagers. To his side, the wizard stepped forward. "Heroic Trinity, we have called you here in our hour of need. Please, young heroes, help us defeat the demonic tide threatening the great empire of Judica!"

    With a dramatic flourish, the wizard-turned-orator made quite the performance. His staff even hovered at the side. He called upon the heroes to seize their destiny, and the weight of expectation hung in the air.

 Chapter 2 - Did We Just Get Isekaid

    All three teenagers were confused and a little dizzy, eyes wide as the surreal ness of their situation dawned on them. Alastair inspected them, taking stock of their appearances. The group comprised two females and one male. The female to the right, nearest to him, was a short girl with tanned skin and long platinum blonde hair.

    Her eyes were a dark brown. With a furrowed brow, her face was narrow. She appeared to be in her early teens, sixteen or seventeen. She wore a maroon-coloured blazer, a buttoned-up white shirt and dark red pants. There was a symbol on the left breast pocket, a school logo.

    To her left was a young boy, possibly fifteen years old, with short brown hair, parted in the middle. Slightly taller than both girls, he had a pale complexion and a lanky frame. His face was round and, unlike the girl, his eyes darted around in a panic.

    He wore a black t-shirt with the printed image of a die being cast by an outstretched hand. Over his shirt was a beige leather jacket, one size too big, along with a pair of blue jeans and sneakers.

    To his left was the last person, much younger, possibly around thirteen, maybe fourteen. Short ginger hair, cut with a fringe. Rimmed circular glasses concealed her deep green eyes.

    She was shorter than the other two, wearing a white t-shirt with a school logo. A green skirt trailed below her knees, with black stockings and sneakers. Her expression was confused and fearful. She instinctively sought asylum behind the other two.

    Once the awkwardness set in, the rightmost teen let out a sigh. Stepping forward and locking eyes with the wizard, she spoke coldly. Once the awkwardness set in, the rightmost teen let out an audible sigh. When she stepped forward and locked eyes with the wizard, she spoke coldly and asked, "Can you elaborate on the situation, explain where we are, and why we have been kidnapped?"

    After that, the nobles present spoke words like insolent or how dare she in a cacophony of muttering. Ignoring all these murmurs, she continued to glare at the King.

    Just when the wizard was about to speak, he cut in. "Silence!" Everyone ceased at his command. His authority was absolute. "Your questions are understandable, so I will answer all of them personally." His words prompted a gasp from the attending menagerie of nobles, wizards, and knights. As he cast a glare at the group, a scowl formed, challenging his authority.

    "I am Emperor Regious Zinthos Judica the Second. I ordered my trusted Imperial Head Wizard to perform the summoning of the Heroic Trinity." Pausing for a moment, he examined the three. "The summoning is an ancient ritual to bring forth the three heroes blessed by the Guardian Spirits of the Empire." He explained before grunting and coughing. "The spirits have chosen you three to be blessed with their favour. To protect this world from the demonic threat." After finishing, he appeared to wait, as if expecting a reply.

    "I see, then my next question would be, is there any way to return to our world?" Her voice was cold and mechanical, as if she was reciting lines. Alistair''s breath caught in his throat, not expecting that reaction.

    Gazing at the other two, Alistair noted the trembling hands and the fear etched on their faces. They only had each other to lean on, surrounded by strangers. He nodded as if that was the reaction.

    Indeed, there is a way for you to go back to your world.

    The girl in front barely flinched, instead stepping forward with purpose. Placing her two feet firmly on the ornate carpet. "Very well," she said, placing her two feet firmly on the ornate carpet.

    The other teenagers slowly moved. The male stepped forward, wary, but mustered up the courage to speak. "I''m Peter Klein. Is this, is this a dream?" The young man asked the obvious question, prompting several nobles to snicker. Peter shrunk back, peering from side to side in confusion. "Definitely a dream, although people laughing at me is just like real life. So does it really matter?"

    The last girl approached cautiously, her gaze timidly darting from left to right. She clenched her fists, resolved to speak, and stepped forward.

    "I am, I am Lucy, Lucy Phillips. Can I go home now?" Her voice shook. Despite her resolve, she couldn''t keep her lip from trembling.

    Peter arrived beside her, and his reassuring look settled on her frayed nerves. To the right, Jasmine glanced at the scene with narrowed eyes, snapping back to the emperor.

    "The heroes are in shock; it is to be expected. Please take them to their rooms to rest." Looking back and forth between his retainers, he continued. "We will have a less formal meeting tomorrow. We will go over the details. Dismissed." With his decree, the throne room emptied.

    Guards led the three heroes out of the throne room. Still invisible, Alistair followed behind, slinking through the torch-lit halls. His eyes tracked a strange reddish light zooming around the hallway.

    The being jumped from torch to torch, moving through the fire as if swimming. Observing intently, Alistair noticed the red blob zooming towards him. Moving past the three heroes, Lucy peaked around, noticing. The rest of the group didn''t notice as it joyfully arrived to spin around him.

    From the perspective of Lucy, the tiny red figure danced around nothing. Returning, she turned to Peter. "Did you see that flying red thing?"

    Peter responded with a light shrug, his brow furrowed. She decided it may have just been her imagination or a trick of the light.

    Alistair, however, was engaged in a fierce battle with a tiny flame. Swiping the air, trying to get rid of the bug, his vain attempt to rid himself of the strange entity was fruitless.

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    Looking down at the strange creature, he noticed it was nuzzling the side of his palm like a floating cat. He opened his hand, revealing the runic tattoo at the centre. The fire-like creature danced around the symbol. A spiked dragon''s head, opening its maw and surrounded by symbols.

    Noticing the heroes making respectful distance, he pursued. The entity did the same, like a lost puppy. Arriving, the guards gestured to the three doors, each in their room. Jasmines was to the left, Peter''s in the middle and the last door for Lucy. Instead, all three entered Jasmine''s room.

    Before he could reach the door, it shut, leaving the invisible man outside. Annoyed, he racked his brain with a way to get in there. Eventually, he came up with a better idea. Moving away to a secluded corner, he withdrew a piece of paper and pen.

    Drawing a quick symbol and holding it in his hand, concentrating. The paper lit up with a faint glow and another symbol on his wrist did the same. Moving quickly, he arrived at the door and while no one was looking; he slipped the paper underneath.

    Once done, he retreated past the guards, towards the balcony at the end of the hall. Arriving, he stepped out and into the night air. The magnificent sight drew his gaze. A massive sprawling city, extending out from the balcony. Light spread out amongst the bustling streets, revealing an impressive nightlife. The appearance of many carriages traversing the walkways, surrounded by stone buildings.

    Yet despite these amazing sights, including a massive forest in the distance and a mountain range to the left. It was another sense, swelling within that was far more apparent. As I breathed in, the sensation became even more noticeable. The only word to describe it was power. Raw untamed power, fluid with every breath. This world was drunk on magic, saturating everyone and everything. The sense of power welled up inside, his reserves long depleted, filled to bursting.

    Several moments went by as Alistair lost himself in the familiar sensation, magnified a thousand-fold. Bringing himself back from the reverie, he hastened to the side. Seating on the balcony fence.

    Pressing his wrist to an ear, he whispered a few words. "Let me hear." The faint glow of the symbol signalled its activation.

    The sounds from the room spoke as clear as day. Painting a mental picture of three heroes congregating. Jasmine sat up straight on the edge of the bed. Peter leaned against the window and Lucy sat in the corner.

    "Ouch," Peter gasped, pinching his cheek.

    The sudden yelp snapped their attention to him. Lucy squinted her eyes, her head tilting to the side in confusion. Jasmine remained rigid, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

    "What in God''s name are you doing?"

    His hand jerked away from his skin, red marks already forming. The air between them grew dense as she stared him down. A shiver ran down his spine. Those eyes reminded him of his mother''s.

    "Well, I''m trying to determine if this is a dream or real. So far, the pain feels real." Replying with a certain level of smugness. Peter glared back, expecting her to counter or agree.

    "Oh, so you''re pinching yourself as a reality check. Well, that''s just genius. Please continue with your petty act of self-harm." She said, completely deadpan. She didn''t even twitch.

    Peter frowned, his childish nature stamped the desire to act with maturity down. He stuck out his tongue, only for Jasmine to turn away, indifferent. Ignoring his antics, she thought about their shared situation. Peter frowned, not getting any satisfaction from her indifference. Looking outside, the scenery fascinated him.

    Tapping her chin, she came up with a few answers. "I think there are several scenarios. Some group that likes to cosplay has kidnapped us." Putting out that blanket statement, not waiting for an answer, she continued. "Of course, we can''t avoid the possibility of truly being transported to a fantasy world, like those generic isekai stories." Her rhetorical conversation alerted the two.

    Lucy was the first to speak. "Do you really think we have gone to a fantasy world, like, like in the stories?" With her cheeks flushed, she tried to keep her tone even, but she failed.

    The two turned their heads to the previously silent member. They watched her, surprised she would speak. Shrinking back from their collective gazes, she curled up into a ball.

    "Let''s not get ahead of ourselves. There could be another explanation. Kidnapping, amnesia, cult or transported to a fantasy world." Jasmine listed that last possibility with a certain sarcasm.

    "Oh, like kidnapping us to steal our kidneys?" His eyes brightened for a few moments before shrinking back in horror.

    She shook her head, disagreeing. The data did not add up for that. "No, if that was the case, we would have woken up in a bathtub of ice, with a scar on our side. Not in a medieval castle, so the cult seems more likely." She explained, her lips shifting from side to side in thought.

    Her words stunned the three into contemplative silence, broken a moment later. "Hey guys, I think the fantasy world is more likely." He said.

    The two girls approached, and both found themselves unable to speak at the sight of two luminescent moons. Awed by the truly magical sight, they couldn''t help but gawk. Without having the time to process, frantic voices melted through the walls and caused all three to snap to the door, drawn away from the amazing sight.

 Chapter 3 - Talking To Air

    The atmosphere crackled with tension, and wizards materialised in the hallway, staves in hand, gleaming with ethereal light. Alistair, clad in invisibility, tensed. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline spiking. He strained to hear anything. "Sir Wizard, what seems to be the issue?" One of the four guards inquired, brows furrowed and eyes darting between them.

    The wizard paid them no mind, eyes narrowing to slits. "Reveal what thine eyes are blind to, cast my senses to the beyond, so thou are known to me." The chant twisted in the air. Two voices spoke as one.

    Sensing danger and imminent discovery, Alistair whispered into his wrist. "Latch." Within the room, the paper floated, unseen by the three latching to Jasmine''s back and melding into her clothes.

    The wizards sensed the aberration, their gazes narrowed and locked. Time was of the essence. He summoned the ancient power etched in the runes tattooed on his shoulder blades. They flared to life, dispelling the invisibility with a burst of light. A fierce gale whipped around him. He felt the exhilarating rush as the tempest propelled him skyward.

    As the wizard stepped onto the balcony, he felt the gust of wind pass his cheek and tug at his robes. Catching the sight of a figure disappearing into the clouds, his eyes narrowed in frustration. He released a low, exasperated growl, cursing under his breath.

    Soaring into the sky, Alistair''s heart beat frantically, his face distorted from the wind shear; his body moved at speeds he had never dreamed of. The sight of the sprawling city vanished, and he ascended to the clouds like a rocket. With a wailing scream, he shot through the rain-soaked clouds; the droplets drenching his body. The cold enveloped him, the air thinned, and desperately tried to inhale as much air as possible.

    His head swam, but with enough mental energy, he fought to steady himself, his muscles protesting against the exertion. Frantically trying to tame the chaotic velocity, he re-entered the world from orbit. Barely registering everything speeding around him, he noticed a patch of green, a lust forest ready and waiting to catch him.

    Trying to slow down, he attempted to lessen the massive flow of mana. His tattoos were drinking in like they were dying of thirst. Constricting the channel, he did what he could with the time he had. It felt like trying to constrict a hose blasting a steady stream of water.

    The runes on his back flickered, and the mana lessened. Finally, with some progress, he turned his disorientated mind to the world. With a loud crash, he descended into the green, blacking out on impact.

    The light of the world descended, swallowed by the encroaching darkness. Memories flashed before his eyes, sinking beneath the watery depths of the past. Vivid scenes of the long-forgotten past crossed his mind. The appearance of a well-dressed man, seated on a throne, urgency in a gruff, impatient voice. "Please, hero, save my kingdom. We need you." The scene shifted, dissolving into a dark room, illuminated by shining crystals.

    Seated at a desk, a bearded man in a grey robe, read from a book. The bespectacled man looked haggard and aged. He scowled at whatever had gained his ire. He spoke with a shrill voice that belied his appearance.

    "No, my dear boy, that is insane. The practice of engraving runes of power upon your body is the height of foolishness, even for a hero."

    Transitioning to a new room, the scene faded as candlelight provided the only source of illumination. The feel of satin sheets and feather pillows pressed against his back, lulling him into comfort. The figure of a beautiful naked woman, only a thin sheet, granted her modesty. Her hypnotic silver eyes drew him in, mesmerised. He doubted he could look away, even if he tried.

    Her soft, sultry voice resounded in his ear, laced with desire and sweet nothings. "You can stay the night, my love. Isabel can keep up the charade a little longer. Right now, I''m no longer the Queen of Asteria, but the Queen of this bedroom." She purred, leaning over like a cat ready to pounce. She leapt over to a straddling position and he looked deeper into her eyes, her mouth stretching into a mischievous grin. "And as queen of this domain, I demand obedience from my only subject. This is a decree from Her Majesty. Kiss me, dear Alistair. Hold me and never let me go." She declared haughtily.

    He nodded, compelled by certainty, he leaned forward, gently caressing the nape and pulling her into a tender kiss. Holding her tightly, his heart beat rapidly, and as a thrill coursed through his body, he buried himself into her arms. Her lips pass down to his neck, kissing it lightly, tickling his skin with every graze.

    Reaching up to his ear, she whispered. "Don''t go, please don''t leave me. Come back, my love, come back." Her words faded, and the darkness cruelly swallowed the past and tore him away and into the light.

    The sound of chirping birds and the gentle rustle of the wind caressed the trees. Gradually pulled him from the depths of his slumber. He groaned in pain, his whole body ached, and the sensation struck him the moment he regained awareness. He assessed the condition of his body, luckily only minor scrapes and bruises.

    Turning his gaze to the remnants of his tattered clothes, reality sank in like a knife. A sigh escaped his lips. The dull ache turned it into a groan. Reaching for a lifeline, he instinctively turned to his right thigh. He gave his leg a good slap, and a glow seeped over his body.

    It slowly covered his whole body, washing away aches and pains. Every limb the aura touched became pleasant and warm. His wounds healed rapidly. He sighed, content that his pain had finally subsided. He assessed himself as the aura faded away.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    His jacket had several open seams but remained still intact, a testament to its resilience. The pants were a different story entirely. It had a few rips at the bottom, near his ankles, but still not too bad. Dusting himself off, he assessed his surroundings, taking in the scent of trees and dense foliage. Recalling what little he could remember; he tried to divine a direction. Guessing that north was the best idea he hiked through the forest.

    Taking only a step, the sound of swaying winds brushed past his ear. It whispered, the voice sending a chill down his spine. "Hello, there, my little invader." The voice was neither feminine nor masculine. It shifted in pitch, a chorus of many voices.

    Alistair spun around and scanned for threats. Only the scent of foliage, the whistling of the wind, and the rustling of trees greeted him. Just as he thought he was alone, an unsettling voice brushed against his cheek. "Do not be frightened mortal, I won''t tell the others of your deed."

    Frustrated by the creature''s evasiveness, he readied a spell. "Show yourself!" Growling, he revealed the dragon tattoo.

    With a thought, it writhed across his hand, opening its maw and producing a fierce gout of fire. The flames coiled and danced within his palm. He could feel the heat radiate outward and the nagging desire to set this world aflame.

    "Hmm, now where did you get that? Have you been dealing with Pyrus? I doubt he would grant dragon fire to a mortal, even to his summoned." The voice conveyed intrigue and surprise.

    Following his words, the wind slowly travelled around him, circling him in a dance he couldn''t fathom. Concern etched its way on his face, and Alistair poured more mana into his dragon fire. The flame engorged, swelling larger than expected. The inferno erupted from his hand, staggering him backwards. Just as he fell, an air current cushioned his fall with a soft embrace.

    Thrown to the side, Alistair landed hard against a tree, the impact knocking out the breath from his lungs. Dazed, he observed the swirling winds dance around the flame, a mesmerising vortex. The fire exhausted, its heat sustenance drained away to embers. With the fire gone, the wind dispersed before reforming into a figure.

    Its entire body, composed of air currents, swayed back and forth, giving it a vaguely humanoid appearance from the torso up. The apparition stared down at him, its fading and reforming eyes shifting like a whirling storm. Its mouth formed and dissipated, a mockery of human expression..

    "Greetings, stranger from another world. I am Ventus, the spirit of the wind. I greet you and congratulate you on your impressive deed of hijacking our summoning ritual." Manifesting a fedora made of air, the creature tipped his hat.

    Confused and aching from the impact, Alistair racked his brain, and adrenaline surged his body alerting him to the danger. "I don''t know what you''re talking about, spirit." Trying for a bald-faced lie was not his initial intention, but he was never one to back down and roll over.

    Snickering derisively, transforming into a hearty bit of laughter that echoed throughout the forest. "Don''t be coy mortal, my siblings and I had already sensed your invasion the moment you arrived," he declared with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

    Alistair''s racing heart signaled that someone had found him out. Yet despite the fear gripping him, the spirit didn''t seem to be angry or threatening. "No need to be so fearful. I will not tell my kin where you are, alas I have taken an interest in you and now offer a deal that can be mutually beneficial." Intrigued by his words, Alistair nodded.

    "You see, I and my siblings were initially unaware a mortal hijacked our masterpiece summoning ritual, only sensing a fourth energy signature." Gesturing, he began pacing in mid-air, manifesting legs for the effect.

    "That energy could be anything from a demon to a stray bit of magic, likely they will accuse me of bringing my hero, which I can deny, reinforcing my neutrality towards current events." He leaned down, his billowing smoke-like body shifting in the breeze. "I got out of the summoning hero business, never liked the pompous Empire, even back when we agreed, yet you are indeed a new variable I would very much like to exploit. Interested?" Manifesting eyebrows, he raised one.

    Detecting his presence, Alistair had to continue cautiously as he contemplated the offer. With an answer in mind, he replied. "What did you have in mind?"

    Shifting his form to a complete humanoid appearance, limbs and all, it descended to the ground, mimicking an earthbound human male. Still, his form shifted, but was substantially more solid than before.

    "Well, I need to fulfil. There is a war heading our way and the division between the races threatens a conflict that may engulf the entire continent." The being''s words struck Alistair as wholly familiar.

    "I withdrew from the Empire, yet I still have a vested interest in the preservation of the mortals. So, an unseen figure like you would be of great help to me." Floating, Ventus swayed from side to side, maintaining his upright posture.

    Alistair painted a mental picture of the situation and yet the nagging feeling at the back of his mind whispered suspicion. "I offer you my patronage, the blessing of the wind, you shall gain power and my favour. In return, you will be my agent within the realms of mortals. That is all I ask." His offer piqued interest, the gnawing need for magic pressed against the back of his mind.

    Despite being saturated in oceans of mana, the need for it still plagued him, as if all this was still not enough. Wanting to agree immediately, he restrained his thoughts and asked some questions. "Is there anything else you wish to inform me regarding this deal If I choose to accept?" Prompted by the nagging desire to understand all facets of the situation, Alistair questioned.

    Letting out a small chuckle, Ventus placed an illusory finger on his chin. "Nothing much really, unlike me siblings. I am not a complicated entity. I find you intriguing and so I act." The spirit spoke with complete nonchalance, as if it were obvious.

    Shrugging as a gesture of acceptance. "What happens if I refuse your gracious offer?" Thinking there was some risk to asking such a question, he asked anyway.

    Tilting his head like a confused puppy, Ventus grinned like a child. Floating above, he turned himself upside down, the ancient entity or a childish creature. "Nothing really, you may go on your way, but alas it won''t take long for my siblings to find you and throw you back to your world." Smiling mischievously, the wind spirit knew he had him in the palm of his hand.

    "Of course, accepting my blessing shall not only grant you power, but conceal you from my kin." The notion was too tantalising to pass up. With a few thoughts, he agreed, nodding in acceptance.

    Rising to his feet, Alistair gazed up at Ventus expectantly. The wind spirit only reached out with his half solid, half gaseous hand. "Take my hand and it will be done. What is your name, anyway? I forgot to ask." Reaching out, Alistair watched the spirit''s actions with interest, yet cautiously prickled at the back of his neck, trying to get his attention.

 Chapter 4 - Whispers Of The Wind

    Deciding to agree, he mirrored the action, thrusting his hand forward and taking the offered appendage. "My name is Alistair." He replied as the two clasped hands.

    The moment of contact sparked an abrupt streak of wind, the two became the centre of a writhing tornado. Despite his fears, Alistair resolved to stay still. A strange tether latched on to his being.

    The feeling that followed was a vast influx of power. The sensation was magnificent and transcendent, as though immense power was within his grasp. As the tornado subsided, the intensity receded, and Alistair''s vision noticeably shifted.

    He noticed the surrounding air. It was not just oxygen and currents of wind, there was more. Wisps of tiny ethereal beings surrounded him, trailing the air currents or perhaps even the air currents themselves. They danced around him in a cacophony of beautiful artistry, their fluid movements mesmerising.

    Looking around at the unfamiliar sights, he saw the familiarity of such beings. The strange fire-like entity in the castle was very similar. Looking around, he turned back to Ventus, who was smiling.

    Intrigued by the spirit''s amusement, he tilted his head, confused. "Ventus, what''s so funny?" The question hung in the air and the spirit''s grin widened far beyond a human''s capability.

    His form swelled with laughter, a playful breeze swirling around him. Noticing the spirit''s downcast gaze, he followed his eyes. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest, the realisation crashing over him like a wave.

    The sight of himself hovering mere inches off the ground, flying was not a novel experience. It was the sheer weightlessness, both exhilarating and unnerving. He hadn''t realised gravity had lost its hold on him. Most drifted through life, unaware of the force that anchored them to the world.

    A thrilling lightness filled him with euphoria. The familiar weight of the world and his own body were gone. Suspended in the air, he felt a sense of true freedom, the likes he had never felt before.

    Together they ascended, and the spirits surrounding them weaved a haunting melody to honour the occasion. The sound was otherworldly, an ethereal blend of music and nature. As they lifted higher, the treetops fell away, and the world came into focus.

    North was a vast mountain range, and the Empire''s capital was south. Yet none of this seemed to matter, as the beauty of the world came into focus. Their ascent halted above the clouds; the wind spirits joyfully danced around them. Ventus moved to the side and together they gazed at the twin moons, one silver and the other a deep red. The sight was breathtaking, but for Alistair it stirred a wave of melancholy, dragging his thoughts to the distant pasts and forgotten dreams.

    "Beautiful." The word slipped out.

    "They are indeed magnificent; my kind call them Elowa and Nashi. My sister adores them two. She thinks they watch over her and the oceans," Ventus explained.

    Both of them stared at the hanging jewels as if in a daze. Moments stretched, the world below becoming inconsequential in comparison. Pulled away by an invisible thread and back to reality, he frowned.

    "I find it truly strange how at ease I am up here," Alistair wondered aloud, his brows furrowing.

    "Your predecessors spoke of such a feeling," Ventus remarked, his voice a gentle breeze. "We spirit of the wind often take for granted the freedom of our nature." As he spoke, his voice drifted away, the spirit lost in thought.

    Alistair could sense the weight of the millennia behind that pensive stare. He had encountered ancient creatures before and they all had that same look, no matter their form or nature.

    "What is it?" Alistair queried.

    "I was just pondering coming events; you will have your work cut out for you, but I think you are up to the task," Ventus said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "Amongst other tasks, I can see floating around in that devious skull of yours." With a playful tilt of his head, the spirit dared Alistair to deny his hidden intentions.

    Ignoring the quip, Alistair switched topics. "You mentioned coming events and predecessors. Please elaborate."

    He nodded a few times, more like a simulated nod. "There were not always three heroes summoned. I once took part in such things, imparting the blessing I have granted to you." He paused, his expression growing serious. "Regarding the conflict, that is a long story, but the short version is the Empire is being pushed into a war with the Federation of Demonus." The mention of this new civilisation sparked Alistair''s curiosity, igniting a sense of exploration in his heart.

    Despite an urge to ask a million questions, he remained silent, letting the spirit share his thoughts. "This conflict is absolute folly," the spirit shook his head. "The prejudice between these two societies has become so deeply ingrained for centuries now." He grimaced, clearly frustrated. "Imperials prefer to call the people of the federation as evil demons."

    "Foolish humans, I have met members of the federation. Most are quite amicable. They are Demi-humans, to be more precise, a collection of various humanoid races united." He paused, inhaling a breath, something that made no sense to Alistair. "But of course, there are those amongst the federation that despise humans and have been rallying support. The Empire sees this as a provocation and thus we are heading in a direction I dislike!"

    Thinking over the information provided, Alistair concluded. "The Federation is dealing with insurgents spreading anti-human sentiment and the Empire, having yet to shed their prejudice, is reacting with hostility." As he articulated his thoughts, Ventus turned to face him.

    "You catch on quickly. Well done, little mortal."

    Listing the woes of this world, Ventus had a vested interest in mortals, despite his low perception of us. Nodding, Ventus seemed reassured that at the very least, he had gained a semi-trustworthy alley.

    "Still, this situation hardly warrants the summoning of heroes," Alistair said, furrowing his brow. "It seems more like domestic terrorism than a world-shaking calamity. Why such a reaction from the spirits and the empire?" The question hung in the air, heavy and unresolved.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Unless, of course, the people of this world overreacted to international threats. Alistair thought with a hint of scepticism. The spirit''s expression shifted, growing solemn as a tinge of genuine fear crossed his features.

    "These issues by themselves do not warrant the summoning," Ventus continued. "What the anti-human movement represents and what they can do." Alistair listened, absorbing every word.

    Before the Federation formed, the Demi-humans had divided into their own states. "At the end of this war, many atrocities occurred on both sides and yet it allowed the Demi-humans to unite and form the Federation, finally achieving some semblance of peace."

    A slight smile grew, immediately fading with his next words. "This was only ten years ago; we didn''t call upon heroes and my siblings viewed that as a mistake to stay out of events, only getting involved at the end after my sister could no longer bear it.

    Realising the gravity of the situation, Alistair pondered the implication. The delicate balance of peace weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was a weight he had shouldered once before.

    "I understand Ventus, I have helped. In exchange, I would like your help," Alistair said, watching the spirit expectantly.

    Nodding as if accepting the proposition, he waited for him to continue. "If I am to help you, I will need magical information." Alistair continued, his tone serious.

    "I require knowledge of magic to transport between dimensions, means other than the summoning ritual. If you can provide the knowledge, I will help." Ventus was stunned to silence, his expression shifting from confusion to intrigue, and settling into a maniacal grin.

    "I must admit I have knowledge of summoning; such means are considered the simplest way to traverse worlds, but direct travel is difficult, even we spirits have limits in that regard. But there are those who study such methods."

    Alistair''s expression lit up at this revelation, a glimmer of hope in the darkness of his journey. "The summoning ritual is an ancient form of magic, even older than us spirits. We merely altered it for our own use, but there are those in the federation who practice dimensional magic, though I am not aware of any success in traversing worlds."

    Ventus paused briefly and then became lost in thought. "There was once an order known as the Explorers of the Rift. They founded the Wizard State of Ikarus. They are currently part of the federation, I believe." The information seemed to inflame Alistair''s desire.

    The Explorers of the Rift, the Wizard State of Ikarus, If I''m not mistaken, Icarus was from Greek myth. Alistair thought, mulling over this new information. "Thank you for the information. Please tell me about this anti-human movement?"

    Sighing sharply, Ventus explained the whole story. The explanation stretched on. The weight of the history he was revealing was heavy. Landing within the Empire''s borders, near the forest entrance, just a short walk from the southern gate. Ventus departed with his last words.

    "Remember deal mortal, I and my kin must begin the migration. I hope we meet again." Turning away, the spirit ascended into the sky, his figure melting away among the clouds.

    As the spirit departed, the weightless sensation he once experienced vanished, replaced by the familiar sensation of gravity, anchoring him to the ground. Noticing the occurrence, Alistair grinned at the convenience of such a blessing. Deciding on his next move, he trekked back to the southern gate.

    Recalling the information, Alistair internally revised the cliff notes. The anti-human movement calls themselves the Legion, they believe that Demi-humans are an advanced species that are meant to rule this world, naturally regular humans don''t make the cut.

    Other pieces of information resurfaced. The way they operate is like a terrorist cell, inciting federation citizens against humans, and launching coordinated attacks on imperial targets.

    With his mind occupied, he didn''t notice the rising sun and the morning. Suddenly, a horse-drawn carriage stopped in front of him, just as he was about to cross onto the road.

    Startled out of his thoughts, Alistair took a moment to survey his surroundings. In front of him was a simple wooden carriage, drawn by a sturdy brown horse. Seated at the front were two humans. One in his late thirties, with short brown hair, a slightly round face and a rough unshaven beard, that hinted at long days on the road.

    He was holding the horse''s reins while a young boy sat beside him. The boy was no older than ten, with similar short hair, a childlike replica of the older man. The young man¡¯s eyes widened with keen interest as he observed Alistair¡¯s appearance.

    Alistair turned to the carriage''s cargo, a few crates of vegetables, only taking up half the space. Before he could get a better look, a gruff voice interrupted. "Hail traveller, you on your way to the capital?" The older man asked with a bright, friendly smile.

    Alistair returned the gesture. "Yes, I am indeed sir, and you are perhaps a travelling merchant?"

    The question had the older man grin widely. The infectious joy extended to his child. Giving the two some time, Alistair waited.

    "I am not a merchant lad, just a humble townie and his boy selling our yield to the capital." The older man leaned down, his sun-kissed face squinted his eyes to get a better look. "The name is Roderick, and this is my boy Darryl. Say hi boy, don''t be rude." The young boy greeted, before turning away.

    "Well, meeting you both is nice. My name is Al, and I''m just a humble traveler from a place not found on the map seeking something new."

    "A traveller huh, where are you coming from?" The man asked, his tone casual but probing.

    Alistair could feel a sour expression form on his face. His mind raced to plan a believable answer. The uncertainty made him feel vulnerable. Not wanting suspicion to set in, Al answered vaguely.

    "From the south, my good man, a small unnamed village, I left many years ago and headed to the empire''s capital." He replied in the vaguest of vague answers.

    Roderick narrowed his eyes. "Ah, I have heard about some villages to the south, but never been there, there half administered by the empire if the taxman even makes the trip."

    Deciding to go along to get along, Al chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. Accepting their generous offer, he climbed on the back, settling next to a crate of cabbages. With a loud crack of the whip and a sudden jerking motion, he urged his horse forward.

 Chapter 5 - The Three Heroes

    Meanwhile, three heroes awaken from their beds within the imperial palace. After the commotion of an intruder, someone moved all three of them to their rooms. Placed under extra guards, each of them had varied success with sleep.

    Jasmine fell asleep easily, the very moment she laid down. She was waking up exactly at five am, earth time. Peter could not sleep and only passed out after an intense debate with himself about the magical world he was in. Lucy had trouble sleeping. Thoughts of her parents being lost drew sobbing. Halfway through the night, she left her room, much to the confusion of her guards, requesting to visit Jasmine.

    Allowing the young girl in, Jasmine allowed her to sleep in the same bed as her. Clutching the teary-eyed girl in her embrace, she remedied her pain with soft music, lulling her to sleep.

    Waking up early, Jasmine silently slipped out of bed, withdrawing her arm from Lucy''s vice grip. She approached the dresser in the room''s corner. She never really inspected the area. Despite her stoic nature, the notion baffled her she and her associates were in a fantasy world.

    Sitting down opposite the dresser, she stared into the mirror secured on top. Looking at her reflection, her messy and unkempt appearance glared back at her. A vision of indelicacy, something she could not abide on her person.

    Her family had always demanded her to be prim and proper in life. Their wealth afforded them their desires. Yet, they considered the necessity of perfection a required sacrifice or perhaps a by-product of their situation.

    She had learned the hard way from her mother and father. Despite her young rebellious desires in the past, she had to adopt the proper mannerisms befitting her station.

    They were habits hard to break. She did not despise her parents for their actions. There was a purpose in them. They were harsh because she was born in both a pleasant and harsh situation. Wealth granted her childish desires, yet the world was only concerned with the grime and filth at the heart of her family.

    Tabloids reported accurate and inaccurate occurrences. The tabloids showcased accurate and inaccurate occurrences in full view of the public, but Jasmine remained indifferent to such trivial matters, yet the world wanted to force-feed her with it.

    She hated it, the incessant desires of others to oppress their perspective and wills onto her, when she couldn''t care less. Over time, she cared, despite everything.

    But that was her lot in life. She accepted it and yet now she was in a new world. There were no illusions about her situation. Earth did not have two moons in the sky. A new reality, a new opportunity, of course. She was not some doe-eyed girl straight off the bus for her delusional acting career.

    She knows how it works, even if this world is but a fantasy. Cold, hard reality is always waiting behind every corner. You just need to learn how to spot it and then and only then can you truly live.

    Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she glanced to the side. Hanging on the wall were two ceremonial robes, both a simplistic white embroidered with gold. On the left breast was the insignia of the empire. The image of a creature resembling the mythical chimera.

    The head of a lion, the tail of a snake and the body of a horse. The chimera was standing on its hind legs, roaring to the heavens. Three objects surrounded it. Above was the symbol of a raging fire. To the left was a calm wave and to the right was a small mountain. The symbolism was obvious; the chimera was the empire and the surrounding elements were the three spirits they harped on about.

    Realising she had little time; she opened the dresser to find a small wooden hairbrush. With its truly poor quality, her hair was not as straight as it should be, but it was still manageable. Her mother would have been thoroughly disappointed and would have sent her to her room to do it again.

    Of course, she doubted she could reach her here, since another planet and possibly another universe, according to Peter, she was well out of her jurisdiction.

    It only took a short time for both Lucy and Jasmine to get dressed. Both left the room wearing ceremonial robes, exiting they noticed Peter dressed up and with a smile.

    The guards ferried them to another room, several twists and turns, and they arrived in a private area. Unlike the throne room, it was only populated with the emperor, several people who called themselves wizards and fully armoured knights.

    On the ground was a large symbol. It was rather intricate and had many strange shapes. The gist was the three elements surrounding the symbol in a triangular formation. Jasmine turned her gaze to the emperor, expecting him to speak.

    He did not. Instead, another spoke with a strange, gravelly voice. "You have done well Regious, these three shall do nicely." A voice resounded, echoing through the entire room.

    Yet the origin of the voice was yet to be seen. All three heroes looked around, expecting to find it, but the origin remained elusive.

    Booming laughter filled the air as the earth symbol glowed, and a figure made entirely of sand emerged from the ground, shaping into a humanoid figure. It had arms, legs and a head. It resembled a human made of solidified gravel.

    Its face shifted, and a crude image of a smile etched upon it. Peter''s eyes widened, shocked and yet curious. Lucy shrieked back in surprise and Jasmine remained calm.

    Her eyes locked in fascination with the figure. The first thought that went through her mind was the imperfection. The figure seemed to disregard any form of symmetry, despite its ability to shift its form. It seemed to select a dis-proportionate configuration.

    The being''s eyes, or more precisely the facsimile of eyes, looked at her. Their gazes locked, and in that moment, time seemed to melt away. The rest of the world faded, and only the two remained.

    The being slowly moved towards her. The steps were soft and slow, but his approach did not register, since a voice appeared in her mind. "Greeting''s child. I am Terranuk, the guardian spirit of earth. I have chosen you to be my champion." The voice was stern and unyielding. Everything inside of Jasmine compelled her to obey the voice, to yield to its might.

    Despite the oppressive nature, she stood her ground, retorting in her mind. "What if I refuse to be your champion?" Mentally digging in her heels in defiance, she fought back as if this was a mental spar.

    Prompted by her defiance, Terranuk merely chuckled, as if her words were amusing. Jasmine was neither amused nor interested in anything amusing. The chuckling ended abruptly. Terranuk realised his error, getting lost in his joy, and quickly reclaimed his senses.

    "You can refuse, my child. We do not force the power on those who do not wish it. If this is not what you want, we can return you to your world." The notion both intrigued Jasmine and brought forth a trace of fear, something the golem noted. "Yet it seems you do not wish to return, do you?" It Asked as if its keen observational skills had afforded it a higher understanding of her.

    Understanding that this being could easily read her, she ceased pretences and get down to business. "It seems you can read my thoughts that I cannot allow." Her statement was harsh and accusatory. She expressed a desire for him to cease his delving into her very essence.

    "You misunderstand child, I can only feel what you feel. I cannot read the depths of your thoughts beyond the surface." Terranuk continued. "You desire the power to shape your life to your own desires, to be free of all oppressive influences, to beat and batter fate and destiny!" The rising pitch of his voice and the voracity of his words resonated with her as she listened.

    "What I offer is the power to crush all obstacles. You will be as immovable as a mountain, stronger than any mortal that walks this world." The tantalising offer came forth like an avalanche of opportunity, something deep inside pressed against her sensibility to jump at the offer and say yes.

    She forced it down, allowing her mind to think and contemplate. After pondering the offer, she spoke again with her mind. "I suspect there is a catch to this," she spoke again after pondering the offer.

    Suddenly, the being shifted his tone to a more formal and almost regal pitch. "Very well, young lady, we shall go over the terms of such a deal." The tone surprised her. His words were reminiscent of her father''s. His formal mannerism when sealing deals and contracts were something she was very familiar with. "The terms are simple, I shall offer you my blessing, this comes with an augmentation of physical strength and endurance along with an affinity with earth magic and earthen spirits, in exchange, you shall be my representative in the upcoming conflict between the empire and the federation." Detailing the terms only brought forth more questions. She remained silent.

    "We, the spiritual trinity, are the guardians of the empire and keepers of the peace. The Federation of Demonus threatens that peace, and we shall not stand idly by. We have summoned our champions to enforce peace, through a showcase of strength."

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Realising it was her turn to speak, she made her inquiry. "So, I shall be your representative in an upcoming war between nations. My father would kill me if I didn''t ask specifics. Tell me about the federation?" Starting a line of inquiry, Jasmine remained stoic and unyielding, unable to agree unless all the facts were known.

    Deciding to reply as a show of transparency, he explained. "The federation is the antithesis of unity. Their country is barely stable as they bicker amongst themselves. It is to be expected for a democratic nation of various diverse races." The annoyance, or perhaps disdain, in his voice was clear. The concept of disunity seemed to be a trigger for him.

    "Amongst the ranks of their federation, extremists have taken over. They preach the purging of humans, they must be stopped, the trinity shall no longer allow this madness to continue. Will you help us chosen?" Making his offer once again, his voice barely cooled from his fury, he waited for an answer.

    Pondering, Jasmine thought on the offer, hoping her mind was not read. She noticed she could conceal thoughts not directed at him, or at least she believed that. A short time flew by and she finally came to answer. "Yes, I agree with the deal." With those words, the two entities, one a young woman, another an ancient spirit of earth, shook hands and sealed their pact with an ethereal glow.

    Meanwhile, a thick stream of water obscured Peter''s vision right next to Jasmine. A surreal image of a waterfall cascaded before his eyes. Despite the initial shock, he remained calm. Watching with interest, his vision remained blocked, and he processed the strange event.

    A whisper, similar to the sound of running water, suddenly caught his attention. Right behind his left ear was the melodic sound of an androgynous voice. "Hi there, curious one. You are the oddity I have chosen. I am glad." The words had a feminine quality and spoke in a motherly tone. "I think I have done a good job, don''t you? Selecting such an inquisitive boy to receive my grace." The voice turned jovial, with a giddy and happy manner of speech.

    Looking around, confused, Peter assessed his situation. After some time, he replied. "You are the elemental spirit that the emperor guy was talking about, the one who summoned us?" He spoke with a certain level of naivety.

    The image of falling water quickly vanished. What replaced it was a female form composed of writhing liquid. The form was of similar height to Peter, petite and slim. It could have been confusing for a young girl. Peter blushed, and a wave of heat passed over his cheeks.

    The two gazed at each other until he broke the silence. "So let me get this straight. You are some sort of spirit of water. You summoned us and will now give me some cool magic power for some future heroic tasks?" He let loose a barrage of questions.

    The being raised her hands and clapped. The action caused her appendages to submerge into each other, splashing water. She chuckled lightly before falling into giddy laughter.

    "Oh, my child, I love how your mind works, the perfect combination of being na?ve and inquisitive." Her words seemed to have a mixture of an accusation and a compliment. She continued, as Peter frowned, noticing the quip. "You are correct. I shall grant you the blessing of water. You shall be protected from drowning and the crushing pressure of the ocean, along with dominion over water." With a theatrical flourish, she spoke, gesturing her arms in elegant poses, splashing water everywhere.

    Still frowning, Peter''s expression softened, and his excitement deepened. Images of flinging water spells and ice spikes at monsters filled his mind. The excitement of his future reached a peak, only soured by a grim thought. Deciding to verbalise his thoughts before realising all of this occurred in his mind. He thought aloud, ignoring the telepathic conversation he was having.

    "So, what do you want in exchange for this?" The query was an obvious question Peter had asked.

    Despite his giddy feelings and excitement over the potential for magic, he was not an idiot. The spirit transformed her demeanour from playful to serious. Her body language, or her representation of it, changed to an upright posture, her arms to the sides.

    Her words rang out substantially sterner than before. "Clever boy, what we want is for you to assist us in the prevention of a war, to be a hero." The emphasis on her last words seemed to be slightly theatrical, but the fervent in her voice was obvious.

    The spirit reached out with its flowing appendage. Peter did so as well, ready to agree wholeheartedly. How could he not? This was his chance to be a hero, to have powers he had never had before. They decided and struck the bargain. Aquamancy it is! He thought with a grin.

    To the side of Peter stood Lucy, her eyes cast upon her two companions, both standing still and with glazed looks. Their eyes gazing at something, off into the distance and yet nothing at all. Lucy turned back, only for her vision to be covered in flames.

    Frightened by the gout of fire, she stepped back with a slight whimper. With a meek and scared expression, she gazed in fear at the sight. The fire was everywhere, layered over her vision as if the entire building had caught a flame. Scared beyond belief, she didn''t even notice that the flames were not even hot. Despite being in front of her, they radiated no heat.

    Shivering in fear, she heard a deep voice in the back of her ear. The voice sounded like a snake or the licking of flames. It held familiarity, the memory of camping with her mother. She quickly let go of the memory, focusing on the strange voice.

    "Hello there, little Lucy. Oh, how long it''s been since I had another vassal. I am looking forward to our time together." The enticing words came forth from the fire, ironically it chilled her to the bone.

    Shivering, she clenched her fists and replied meekly. "Who, who are you?" The voice was barely a whisper, like a mouse squeak. Her tone denoted her barely concealed terror.

    The fire laughed before coughing a few times. The gesture sounded fake, and Lucy barely acknowledged that. "I am Pyrus, the spirit of the flame, ruler of fire, lord of the draconian mountains." The gusto in his speech denoted an inflamed ego. His tone rose in intensity after every apparent title.

    Realising that he may continue, Lucy mustered up all her courage to speak, only making another squeak. "What, what do you want with me?" Gazing into the fire, she gasped, witnessing the flame coalesce into a humanoid form.

    Its appearance was a giant humanoid with flaming red hair and a regal suit of plate armour, finished by a long flowing cape. Atop his head was a circular crown, tiny fires on each extended tip. At his side was a sword strapped to his waist. The blade was long and wide, seeming to be impractical by human standards.

    Shocked by the appearance, she tried to step back, but found she could barely move. Her terror was palpable and kept her stock still. Her shivering would not stop, yet her face seemed to display a strained expression, with the beginnings of a frown.

    Stepping forward, Pyrus landed as if looking at an insignificant creature and spoke mockingly. "Are you afraid, my child?" His tone left no doubts that he was indeed mocking her fear, his voice laced with sarcasm and derision. In response, Lucy shivered, the fear taking control. Pyrus, as if egged on by the sight, pressed on with his words. "Oh, look at this frightened little child. Perhaps I made a mistake in selecting such a pathetic creature."

    The girl''s shivering ceased, and she became stiff and unmoving. Her previously hunched form rose to meet his gaze, her eyes glaring. Taking in a deep breath, she let loose her words. "Shut up, you glorified pilot light!" The voracity did not match the meek and high-toned voice. The sudden shift in her demeanour from fearful to downright angry was quick and unexpected. Her tirade continued, still maintaining eye contact. "How dare a campfire call me pathetic, you better watch it mister or ill blow you out like a birthday candle!" Standing her ground, she in so many words, let Pyrus have it.

    After her tirade, she huffed in annoyance, waiting for a reply with a scowl. Despite the expectation, Pyrus kept his grin, followed by laughter. Confused by his response, she scowled deeply, ready for another go, but he beat her to the punch.

    "I like you, little one. You have a fire in you I can work with." Looking down at Lucy, Pyrus leaned forward, matching her eye to eye. The two stared at each other before he spoke again. "I brought you here to bring peace." Reaching out his right hand, offering a handshake. "I shall offer you dominion over fire, to never fear the heat of flame. In exchange, you will help me bring peace to this world. Do we have a deal?"

    Lucy glanced at the hand, bewildered, not knowing what to do or how to respond. She clenched her fists and gulped to ease her dry throat. The impulse to lash out verbally remained, with the fire inside opposing the literal fire before her. She resolved her will, reached out and took his hand.

 Chapter 6 - I Still Need ID In A Fantasy World?

    Meanwhile, far from the imperial palace, at the entrance of the imperial city, a small horse-drawn cart reached the western gate. Seated at the reins were the old man and his son, Alistair, riding in the back. The cart came to an abrupt stop right at the gate, behind a long line of carriages.

    Carriages that ranged from gaudy and opulent to mundane and wooden. Observing the very long line, Alistair sighed. Watching the slow progress was annoying and frustrating, impatience welling up inside.

    Looking down at the wooden planks of the cart. At the sight of the city gate off and into the distance, his thoughts raced. I wonder if I should just fly over the wall. He imagined himself ascending into the sky and touching down behind the city walls.

    Of course, someone had informed him about the need for identification. When he explained he had no such thing, older adults with Roderick quickly reassured him he could get them from the Guild.

    Upon asking what the Guild was, Roderick replied in a stern, almost angry tone. He explained they were a bunch of upstart independents trying desperately to maintain their power. They are a collective of various organisations that were once part of the divided kingdoms.

    Roderick had some choice words about the decadent and greedy countries that didn''t respect the spirits. His extolling of the first Emperor, Felix Aleric Judica the first and his conquest to unite humanity, showed how patriotic he was, truly a loyal Imperial subject.

    Back to the guild, before the Empire united or conquered the various human kingdoms. There were various guilds spread throughout the kingdoms. The Mercenary Guild was an independent organisation that organised employment for mercenary companies. They made quite a name for themselves, arranging soldiers for the feuding kingdoms.

    It wasn''t until peacetime; did they branch out to more specialised work? Monster hunting, caravan guarding, many stuff. They kind of remind me of the adventurer''s guild back on Matesh. Alistair thought, reminiscing about his time in another world.

    Despite Roderick''s disdain for the guild, he did cave and mention their usefulness to the empire. An independent organisation that employed specialised killers was a hard pill for the empire to swallow. Yet the emperor did and allowed them to operate with imperial oversight.

    The other two organisations in the guild collective were the Wizarding Union. Roderick had a lot to say about them, too. I believe he called them a bunch of low-down curse slingers. It seems wizards aren''t well-liked in the empire. Roderick explained these wizards came from the northern kingdom. They traded with federation states, passing their vile magic across the borders.

    A collection of wizards who were being persecuted by pro-spirit zealots formed the Wizarding Union. Though there is no tangible religion around these spirits. A large chunk of imperials revered the spirits as sacred divine beings. People consider contract magic, where mortals bind with spirits to share power, as the purest form of magic.

    Wizards don''t rely on spirits to perform magic. Instead, they utilised the power of their souls or the ambient mana around them. The northern wizards instead formed a union to protect their interests. The empire accepted them after a time, with heavy restrictions and scrutiny.

    The third and final organisation was more or less accepted quickly by the empire. They were the Explorer''s Collective. A bunch of treasure hunters and ruin raiders, Roderick called them. The peasants despised them, but not as much as the other two. The Explorer''s Collective brought in a lot of revenue for the empire, as well as maps of unexplored locations.

    The Guild Collective represents a coalition of unions. Coming together, the three organizations kept some of their autonomy. The guild can also provide identification, probationary citizenship, in exchange for service. The empire heavily taxed these probationary individuals, yet it still allows them some freedom to travel.

    After a while, mostly because of the shouting match between the two nobles. They angrily debated which carriage should go first to be prioritized. Both mentioned they were barons, thus making them of similar rank in the noble hierarchy.

    Finally, it was Roderick''s turn. The carriage arrived in front of the sealed gate. To the left, in front of a stone archway, was a large muscular man, wearing leather armour. Wielding a long spear, he set his stern gaze on Roderick. The grizzled, barely shaven, in a month''s face set his inquisitor''s eyes upon us.

    The tension was palpable, yet Roderick remained calm. The two facing off broke the stalemate by erupting into hearty laughter. Their laughter resounded for a time before the guard approached the carriage, laying his spear to the side.

    Turning his gaze upwards, he spoke in a gruff tone. "Ah, my dear Roderick, how have you been? I haven''t seen you since the twins were full." It appeared as if the two knew each other well.

    Staring down at the guard, who gestured to his fellow guards to search the carriage. Roderick paid them no mind. "Hesun, you know how it is, some time the spirits grace us with good crops, sometimes they don''t."

    The two bantered over many things. They spoke of nagging wives, and how their children were until the guard shifted to Al. A frown appeared as he observed the unknown man and turned back to Roderick. "Who is that stranger in the back?" He spoke sternly, wary of the newcomer.

    Roderick quickly spoke up in Al''s defence, sensing the growing tension. "Don''t be like that, Hesun. He is just a traveller from the southern villages, come to our fair city for fortune." Attempting to calm the twitchy guards, Roderick continued. "I have assured him he can get an identification from the Guild. These are trying times, Hesun." Leaning over to speak closer to his friend. "The war with the Demonus heathens is approaching. Having strong young men deal with the lesser work is always a good idea." Listening in, Al noticed the little quip but remained stoic, as if he was oblivious.

    Hesun nodded, ordering the guards to let them through. The carriage passed through the gates, stopping just inside. Approaching a small stone building to the left. It seemed to be built out of a carving on the wall. In the distance was a long, bustling pathway, with many carriages and foot traffic. Wooden buildings flanked each side, architecture reminiscent of medieval England.

    Once the carriage came to a stop inside, the guards ordered Al to exit and follow them to the building. Looking back at Roderick, he nodded for him to follow the rules. They escorted him to a chair and made him sit down. He was situated inside what appeared to be a guardhouse. Opposite him was an empty chair. He waited and several figures entered.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    The figures were composed by an elderly man who appeared forlorn and tired. The wrinkles on his face denoted a man of around fifty. He had short blonde hair, green eyes and wore a red robe. There was an insignia on the right breast, a staff and a wand crossing each other, against the backdrop of a sun. Next to him was the guard, Hesun. He travelled along with a bored expression.

    The wizard sat opposite, bringing out a small crystal and setting it on the table. He coughed a few times, pulling out parchment and quill. Setting his tired eyes on Al. "According to this gentleman, you wish to become a probationary citizen under the supervision and employment of the guild. Is that correct?" He asked, head down.

    Al narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I wish to join the Guild. I hear I can have temporary citizenship." He was polite and spoke as reasonably as he could.

    The wizard nodded and gestured to the violet crystal at the centre of the table. Al put his hand upon it since he recognised this scenario. Once he grasped the crystal, his tattoo was now visible for all to see. Despite the frown on the wizard''s face, inspecting the strange symbol. He cast a glance at the now glowing crystal. His eyes widened in shock; the glow was immense but only for a short time.

    As if by design, the glow faded to a shimmer. The confused wizard glanced back at Al, Realising what he had done. He adopted a bemused grin.

    "You have an impressive affinity for the wizardly arts. I''m not sure why you reduced the magical emanations of your spark." His grin turned to a frown, noting Al withdrawing his hand to the side. Deciding to continue while Al remained quiet. "You have a gift lad, you could be a great addition to the Wizarding Union. What do you say?" Laying out the offer, he eagerly waited for a response.

    The guards noticed the joyous expression of the wizard before straightening to attention. Al mulled the offer over. Internally, he was debating his next move. In his past, summoned hero adventure, he joined the adventurer''s guild like a total normie. It was useful, he admitted, since he could easily get jobs that crossed borders. The guild on Matesh was a multinational organisation, outside most of the polities'' control.

    Of course, this situation was different. The empire administered the guild collective after their takeover. He initially thought he could join the mercenary''s guild, hop a caravan to the border, and fly the rest of the way to Ikarus. Noticing the fine choice of words to fly to Ikarus, the image of himself burnt to a crisp in the sun crossed his mind.

    After some time, he decided it was the most logical choice. "The Wizarding Union, you say. I''m not much of a city man. I''m from the southern region." He leaned down meekly. "I learned a little magic from my pa, but I was thinking I would join the mercenary''s guild or explorer''s collective so I could travel." The concept of travel seemed to cause the wizard to perk up. He coughed a few times before looking back incredulously.

    The stare-off lasted for some time before he spoke. "Hey don''t sell the union short, we wizards aren''t just sitting in a lab mixing potions." There was an air of annoyance, as if Al had offended him and he had to defend the honour of all wizards. "We travel young man, no self-respecting wizard stays couped up. They need to experience the world and learn all we can to be truly knowledgeable."

    It sounded like he was playing up some sort of PR campaign for his little group. Al refused to roll his eyes and instead listened intently as if he had him hooked. The wizard rose to his feet, adjusting his robes and looked down at the meek young man. He cleared his throat before delivering another stellar performance.

    "I have visited the northern ruins of long-dead civilisations and learned more ancient magic than anyone." The pride beaming from him made Al think of a peacock showing its colourful feathers.

    Al realised where he was going with this and chimed in. "So, if I joined the union, I could travel north?" Those words had the wizard perked up with a wide grin. Adulation at reaching the intended result of his sales pitch.

    His smile couldn''t get any wider as he reached out to shake. Al looked down, noticing the familiar custom and wondering if the summoned earthers brought that over. With his hand outstretched, the wizard spoke.

    "Oh yes, just shake my hand and we can get started on your journey through the mysteries of the universe." Still trying to add more bravado to his ever-strengthened sales pitch, Al smiled.

    The concept of exploring the mysteries of the universe was odd since he could travel between universes. Deciding it was at least a good idea to explore joining. Reaching out and clasping his hand in a firm handshake, he agreed to the offer.

    "My name is Al and I would love to join the Wizarding Union." Initially, he had thought the other guilds were more alluring. But then again, a union of wizards that allowed free travel north would be useful. Also, the potential for magical knowledge was too good to pass up.

    Shaking Al''s hand vigorously, the wizard replied in kind. "I am Xedicus Zulantra, union wizard of the mystical arts." Both smiled from the introductions, causing the wary guards to sigh softly. It appeared they were not fans of wizards increasing their numbers.

    Al ignored them and focused on Xedicus, eyeing him curiously. The two broke the handshake before speaking. "So, what now?" Al asked sheepishly, still keeping that meek demeanour going, milking it for all its worth.

    Xedicus smiled as he filled the next hour with signing documents using a quill. Luckily, Al could read most languages because of a rune he carved onto the back of his neck. It was very useful when travelling to another country or world to read the signs and, of course, literature. The meeting ended with the exchange of some gold nuggets from Al''s pocket.

    There were some curious glances between the guards when he showed off the pure gold. It wasn''t much of a problem since the bartering system included weight to match with their coinage system. Once Al crossed all the red tape, he became a probationary member of the Wizarding Union.

    Someone gave him a parchment, granting himself temporary imperial citizenship for about a year. With that, he set off, accompanying Roderick and his son towards the central district. Promising to swing by the union building to complete the rest of his initiation.

    Now, sitting in the back of the carriage, he regaled Roderick and his son about what happened. The comment about joining the Wizarding Union got some harsh gazes from the two. Wizards were not well-liked and more or less tolerated by the imperials for their use. Spirit contractual magic was more well-received since most of the empire worshipped them like deities.

    Travelling deeper into the city now on a solid road, he didn''t have time to check the surroundings. Roderick was getting increasingly more and more prejudicial against wizards and the federation. "You can''t trust wizards, Al; I know you have the gift, as they call it." The term gift seemed like a displeasing word, like he was talking about dung. "But pledging to the spirits is the better path. The wizard arts are too close to the ways of the demons. We should have thrown the lot out of the empire decades ago." His rant lasted for a while until Al tuned him out.

    Instead, he looked at his surroundings, hearing a few affirmations from Roderick¡¯s excited kid. Behaving in a manner that mimics an elderly racist is not appropriate for celebration. Al noticed the clear distinction between architecture as they travelled deeper.

    The buildings were all stone, with some wood thrown into the mix. Their architecture was like the style of London, with the buildings condensed close together. Most of them had a Romanesque gothic aesthetic. He could see taverns, clothing, blacksmiths, and perfume stores.

    Roderick was still ranting about demons and evil wizard magic before the carriage halted. Confused, Al looked around and noticed they had stopped at an intersection. In the distance was the imperial palace. The gaudy structure was massive, made of some sort of pure white stone. It looked like a Greek palace with columns and everything.

    What was noticeable was the massive crowd blocking the roads, stationed outside, and waiting for something. Scanning the crowd with some confusion, Al was about to ask what was going on. Instead, he saw the two in stunned awe.

    Initially, he thought it was the marvellous palace that had their mouths dropped. Instead, Al''s idea fell apart when he heard Roderick say a single sentence. "The Heroic Trinity, they are here. Praise be the spirits." The sentence brought Al''s gaze back to the palace, directly to the portcullis. Standing there were the three summoned heroes from earlier, being paraded like art pieces.

 Chapter 7 - Wizards, Heroes And Unpleasant Peasants

    Al looked around like a gawking tourist, out upon the massive gathering of people. They locked their reverent eyes on the portcullis, where they saw three familiar heroes. The emperor and many of his imperial guards were also present, wearing steel plate armour. The distance was vast, but after Al activated a rune on his right shoulder, his vision expanded.

    He could see them perfectly, as if they were right before him. Oddly, the sight was better than he had used before. The emperor wore his usual outfit, complete with his crown. However, the heroes had ornate robes that matched the three elements in color. The guards were all decked out in plate armour covering every part of their bodies.

    Looking down at Roderick, he noticed that he and his son were saluting. Right fist to their chest horizontally. Realizing that they may prioritize their patriotism over their business deals, Al quickly spoke. "Roderick looks like the lane has opened up." His words pulled them out of his reverie long enough to notice the situation.

    Prompted, they continued down the street. The young boy looked back with awe. The palace and its occupants faded into the distance. Their carriage arrived a few hours later in front of a large wooden building. The evening was well on its way, with the night not too far off.

    The building was in the middle-class district, halfway between the upper district and the slums. Parting ways with the elder and his son, on a sour note. It was likely because of Al''s chosen profession, yet they had a cordial goodbye. They left him on the side of the road as they faded into the distance.

    Standing outside a modestly priced inn, the place catered for a variety of clientele. It was near the western gate and thus became the go-to place for travellers. Glancing up at the large nondescript building, the oak door was the most obvious feature.

    Waiting for a short time, Al ventured in and looked around at the modest crowd of people. The interior was simple and wide, with several tables to the left and right. It looked more akin to a primitive restaurant or bar.

    Several patrons dotted the area, drinking and dining. Directly in front were bar stools and everything. Gravitating to the booze, he arrived and seated himself on an available stool. Glancing to the side, he saw two individuals seated on their own.

    Eavesdropping on the conversation, Al listened with mild curiosity. "Come on, James, expand your horizons. Up north, there is plenty to explore." A woman with long blonde hair pleaded.

    The woman was seated to the left of a large, tanned-skinned man with broad shoulders. He was wearing full plate armour with wolf-shaped pauldrons. He had short brown hair and chiselled features. One could confuse him with a Greek statue.

    The Greek God finally replied. "Sally, please, we have a good thing in the capital. Southern merchants pay good coin. Why should we go north?" From his tone, he seemed irritated. Al suspected this was not the first time they had this conversation.

    Deciding to leave it be, he turned to the now glaring barkeep. He was an older man, probably in his mid-fifties, with some grey hair, a wrinkled face, stubble, and piercing brown eyes. Al didn''t flinch and instead spoke calmly.

    "I need a room. How much?" Representing himself as a man of few words, he inquired.

    The innkeeper looked him up and down, scrutinising; he grumbled something inaudible. "A silver crown per night. Food is extra." His voice was gruff and stern, he made it clear he wouldn''t budge on anything.

    Al looked down at his pockets, fished out two silver coins and handed them over. The innkeeper took the silver, confused. The two coins were pure silver with no engraving or symbology. Raising both coins to his mouth and biting down, he sank his teeth into silver. Seeming to agree they were actual currency, he nodded.

    They handed Al an iron key and directed him upstairs to his room. Before leaving, he heard a few words of a conversation between the pair. "Alright, alright, we will go north. You''re such a thrill seeker. Maybe the Alvaron Ruins will scare you straight." Those words hung in the air, and Al left the two behind.

    It didn''t take long for him to settle into his room. The young woman who guided him felt confused when she noticed he didn''t have any luggage. He didn''t reply, instead entered and closed the door behind him. Falling into the pitifully hard bed, he groaned in discomfort. Laying down with his unblinking eyes, he stared at the wooden ceiling in a daze.

    Withdrawing a leather-bound book from his soul inventory, or whatever it was called. He caressed his salvation lovingly. The grimoire he had stolen all those months ago had yielded much. He had a firm grasp of how summoning spells worked. Developing the hitchhiking spell from countless hours of research.

    The mystical grimoire seemed to radiate with power. Somehow, the very pages were magical. Even without a single spell inscribed on those pages active, it still radiated like active spells. Summoning magic was truly a terrifying concept. To pull sentient beings across the void between worlds.

    Opening the book, he leafed through the pages. There were scattered sticky notes around. They had many ideas he should get to. The intricate spell work begged the question of who created these complex rituals. The wizards of Matesh were not that advanced, they couldn''t have developed this. His first spell only explored the potential of this magic.

    He suspected the kingdom''s wizards had no clue how this magic worked. Despite it being outlawed, they still use it. Something about a previous summoned that nearly conquered the world. He recalled the Terran Kingdom, a nation founded by a traveller-made emperor. In the past, it was a true empire, but like all vast nations, it fell and fractured.

    When he visited, he could tell earth culture influenced it. The place was basically Rome, which made me suspect the old summoned might have been from my world, but far in the past. But none of it matters unless I master this magic. I won''t be able to get back there. He worried, the back of his mind telling him to give up and stay in this world.

    But that wasn''t an option. Nothing could stand in his way for the people he cared about. He made a promise to come back, to show someone every world he could find. He would show them his home, even if that place was a barren wasteland with magic. There was still much Earth could offer, not to mention the many other worlds out there.

    Lingering for some time, he quickly grew uncomfortable and rose to a seating position. Placing the book back into his soul inventory, he cast an eye to the window. The world was just beyond that wooden frame.

    He had come here to risk the unknown in search of an answer. Yet the mere notion of sitting still aggravated him. This was not who he was. He needed to experience, go far, and test his limits until the strain broke him.

    With resolve burning furiously in his heart, he grinned. Placing his right hand over his chest, the air rippled and distorted. Sinking his hand into the rippling pool of distorted space, he withdrew a long, black hooded cloak from thin air. Looking down at the fabric, he again smiled.

    Withdrawing several other pieces of attire, two leather shoes, dark grey pants and a black tunic. He quickly changed out of his modern clothes, stuffing them into the distorted space. Now wearing something more in line with this world''s fashion sense, he was ready.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    He shifted his appearance to that of a thief in the night. His presence almost blended into the darkness, only the candle illuminated him. The black cloak and hood adorned his figure. He looked as if he had a cape and hood, like some dark avenger or an over-enthusiastic cosplayer.

    Now he was ready. He moved over to the window, pushing it open with a soft creak. Looking out towards the night sky and the twin moons, he never felt more alive. Before leaping into the unknown, he placed his wrist on his forehead. A faint glow emanated from the tattoo and once the light faded, he withdrew, revealing his distorted face.

    His appearance was indiscernible. No matter how hard you looked at him, you couldn''t see it. It constantly shifted and morphed, as if underwater. With his identity secure, he stepped out of the window. The sight of the sparsely populated street emboldened his decision.

    Reaching deep inside, he comprehended the power. The air seemed to ripple and writhe around him. His body became lighter. The restraints of the planet melted away as gravity became a memory. Slowly, his body ascended to float in mid-air, followed by a gust of wind propelling him into the night.

    Escaping his confines, Al quickly ascended to the sky, his cloak flapping behind. Rising to just above the city, the expanse of land quickly came into focus. Stopping just above the city, he looked down at the barely lit expanse of buildings and alleyways. Once he had taken it all in, the air current rushed again. Flying through the sky, Al could feel a smooth sense of contentment. Above the clouds, he was free from all earthly burdens.

    Even though he was no longer on earth, the thought caused a chuckle. After a time of traversing the skies, one would think he would be freezing. Fortunately, or more accurately, intentionally, he had a heat rune tattooed on his back. No matter how cold it got, his temperature would remain as warm as a toasty day of summer.

    Deciding that his vision of clouds and more clouds quickly became a dull sight, he descended. Lowering himself beneath the fluffy white shapes, he landed gracefully atop a roof.

    Normally, there would be a sound of clattering shingles. Of course, there would be if he allowed his feet to touch the roof at all. Levitating above, he looked around. He was no longer in the central district. He had flown towards the slums, strangely he felt more at home with the dregs of society.

    It was probably the familiarity. He wasn''t always a hero. In his past, he was immersed in crime and selfishness, far from such things. He was no master criminal or mob boss, just a pretty criminal in a gang.

    He shook his head, letting the memories fade. Slowly, he came to realise that nothing was going on. The streets below were a ghost town. Growing bored, he leaped from rooftop to rooftop.

    Traversing easily, the sound of screaming stopped him. Moving towards it, he arrived just above a narrow alleyway. Taking stock of the area, it appeared to be a neighbourhood for the poor.

    Rundown buildings dotted most of the sprawling slums. Al appeared above a condemned bakery. Of course, none of this was of immediate concern. The sight below pulled his interest.

    In the centre of the alley were five figures, three adults and two teenagers. The adults seemed to be all men, each rough-looking, the kind you don''t want to meet in a dark alley. Despite them looking like a bunch of gangsters, they all wore familiar garb.

    The distinct leather armour, though rundown and barely maintained, the sight of the imperial emblem was noticeable. This revealed them to be imperial watchmen, dedicated to keeping order in the capital. However, their current actions seemed to stand in contrast to their noble purpose. Listening in, Al heard every word.

    "Come on, Joan, don''t be like that. We have had a good thing going." The watchman with dirty blonde hair said.

    Either this world had hair die or that''s dirt in his hair. Al leaned forward, crouching down to listen closer, picking up some more conversation.

    "The deal was simple; as long as you keep up the payments, I won''t report your brother to the inquisitors."

    Despite not being scrutinized, the two resembled a young teenage boy being guarded by a slightly older girl. The young girl, Joan, stepped forward, meeting the watchmen''s gaze.

    Her slightly high-pitched voice burst forth in a rage. "Please, we have no more coin. You have raised the price thrice now!" Her words seem to denote a plea for mercy, yet her tone presented anger and righteous indignation.

    The dirty blonde licked his lips, delivering his next words laced with a subtext. "You know, Joan, you can always pay us with something other than coin. If you know what I mean?" The offer was an obvious double entendre.

    Visibly shocked, an expression of absolute disgust crossed her face. She shot back with her own. With an expression of absolute disgust crossing her face, she retorted, "Never in your life, you disgusting pig! I''m old enough to be your daughter!"

    It seemed her words had triggered a reaction. One watchman, standing left of the blonde. The brunette, a muscle-bound giant of a man, raised his fist. His intention was obvious. Within his fist was a steel short sword. Hopefully, it was merely intimidation, not an execution.

    Of course, Al preferred not to take that risk. Raising his hand with outstretched fingers, as if grasping thin air. The web-like tattoo branched out from his wrist to the edge of his fingernails and glowed.

    Gripping tightly, the sensation of flesh quickly replaced the sensation of air. The giant halted his action, no longer able to descend his blade.  Confusion crossed the man''s face. He glanced at the still arm.

    He groaned in frustration, desperately trying to free himself from an invisible force. The two other watchmen noticed his struggles, and both looked at him, confused as well. Suddenly, the clattering of metal rang out as he lost grip on his weapon.

    The giant looked down before glancing at his sprained wrist. One could see a hand-shaped bruise wrapping around the aching appendage.

    Before anyone could comprehend the situation, Al leapt lightning fast. Grasping the watchman by the neck and gripping him with telekinetic force, he ripped the man from the sweet embrace of gravity.

    Before he could even acknowledge the situation, the swift elevation caused the few synapses in his brain to freeze. His environment quickly changed, the familiar alleyway leaving his senses.

    Arising high in the sky, the twin moons now in sight, his situation quickly dawned on him. Ready to scream, he took in a huge breath, only for his windpipe to seal from external pressure. Glaring at the floating man, his fear seeped across his mind like tendrils of death.

    Looking down at the figure''s glowing hand. It was wizardry, that was certain. Turning his gaze back to the man holding his life. "First time flying. Don''t worry, everyone freaks out the first time." With the finality of his words, the watchmen''s world descended.

    Plummeting to the ground with nothing to keep him afloat, descending rapidly, the appearance of his death as a roof quickly approached. Suddenly he felt a tug on his back, reducing the momentum, only slightly.

    He still descended, crashing onto the neighbouring roof. A loud crash reverberated, and pain unlike any he had ever felt branched throughout his body. The suffering was short-lived. His consciousness faded into black. Leaving the sight of the floating stranger, high in the sky.

 Chapter 8 - Heroes, Bartenders And Brawlers.

    Back in the alley, naturally, all parties felt shocked. The two remaining watchmen stared dumbfounded at their compatriot''s vanishing act. The young girl looked back just as the attack halted.

    A space remained where her enemy stood, and the only one who didn''t seem shocked was the younger boy. His eyes shone like a cat, a shocked expression on his face. It would make people think he was knowledgeable.

    All parties remained still, like they were posing for a photo. Suddenly and without warning, a scream echoed, followed by an influx of air. The blonde watchman quickly turned to his right, witnessing the space where another associate vanished. Casting his gaze to the sky, he could see something ascending above.

    His arms wavered, and his knees buckled. The fear he sought to place in others washed over him. He wanted to run, to flee. He wanted to give in to his fear and bail on everything. To forget about his purpose here and abandon it all.

    Firm hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him from the ground, preventing his wish from being fulfilled. Rising a few metres in the air, the sight of his enemy came into full view. It was a figure cloaked in black, his coat-tails billowing in the unnatural wind.

    Looking up, he could see the horrific visage concealed beneath the dark hood. The face was unrecognisable, shifting in and out of alignment, like looking through dirty glass. Gazing into the strange oddity of nature, the watchmen gulped in fear. Still, he mustered up what little courage he had.

    "Who are you?" A simple question most would ask a stranger, yet laced with fear and uncertainty.

    In response to his frightened query, laughter was the only response. It was soft, not very loud, but not silent either. Akin to a chuckle about some minor joke.

    The laughter subsided. "I would have liked to say, I am justice!" Reclining his head, the figure smiled at the utter clich¨¦ of the situation. "Of course, then again, I''m not a weeb." He erupted into further laughter, ending with the watchmen propelling into a nearby wall.

    A loud crack sounded from his lower back. Clearly, something had broken. His groans of pain quickly subsided, and he fainted from the pain. Once, he summarily dealt with all three enemies. It left two scared teenagers gaping at the sight of Al.

    Floating about the ground, coat-tails flickering in the wind, the night atmosphere giving him the old grim reaper look. The illusion concealed his face, making him a more ominous figure. Shivering in fear, the teens stayed motionless. The younger boy was watching in fascination. Yet still, his fear was clear. He took a deep inhalation of air, sniffing like a canine.

    "I''d suggest robbing these two of everything they have and then bailing to places unknown." He spoke sincerely, offering advice.

    Leaving them with a smile, he left dramatically. Blasting off and into the sky like some superhero of justice. Both of them remained stunned. This lasted for only a moment before Joan leapt to the unconscious watchmen, ready to loot them for everything they had.

    Turning back to her younger sibling, just as she was removing his coin purse, she spoke. "Come on Felix, grab everything you can carry." Despite her words reaching for him, Felix remained still.

    His shining eyes stared into the night sky, where the mysterious flying man had vanished. Remaining there, he sniffed the air a few times. His look changed as he opened his mouth, revealing sharp canines descending to a point. He sniffed the air a few more times, assured of something.

    Meanwhile, Al, having flown the coup, traversed the skies. Sticking to the less guarded slums, he intervened in several crimes. The first he found was an attempted rape of a peasant girl by a drunken guard. The law enforcement here was quite corrupt. Go figure.

    Swooping down like a bird of prey, Al pulled him from the safety of solid ground. He then gave him a taste of a short-term flight. He should feel flattered if it weren''t for the landing. The victim climbed to her feet and looked around, confused and fearful. Her eyes caught her downed rapist.

    She ran over to his slumped form and kicked him in the groin seven times. She fled after robbing him of everything he had. Al glared down with a bemused look and noted that there were a lot of petty thieves in the area. Not admonishing them for their actions. Since he just suggested the same thing with two teenagers.

    He was not exactly clean for his many crimes, past and present. In his youth, he had stolen many an object. Escalating once he joined the gangs, that was when the actual crimes started. But that was all in the past now.

    Shrugging at his acceptance of thievery and apparent encouragement of the crime, he vacated quickly. He then foiled an attempted robbery, attempted murder and some sort of gang beating up a couple.

    Naturally, the time swept by quickly and Al returned to his room. Flying through the inn window, floating over to his bed and disengaging his magic. Gravity kicked in like a hammer, dropping him onto his bed with a loud thud. He quickly went to sleep, soothed by the sounds of his neighbours yelling at him to keep quiet.

    Waking in the morning with the stream of sunshine cascading into the room. The light, in all its annoying glory, beckoned Al to rise. He did so almost mechanically. Instead of sitting up in a groggy mess, something else occurred.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    He rose, the tether of gravity broken again. His floating form ascended a metre in the air, the weightlessness threatened to rock him back to sleep. Resisting the soporific effect, he awoke. Normally, one would immediately be confused and perhaps fearful of the situation. Al reacted nonchalantly and easily, descended to his feet with a mere thought.

    Once awake, he proceeded with his daily routine. He bathed thoroughly, now used to such an ad hoc method from his time in another medieval world. Once ready, he changed into a fresh pair of clothes, the same as his previous attire.

    He stored the previous article in his soul, and a thought occurred. Would this make my soul tainted by storing dirty laundry within it? He ended that thought with a soft chuckle, since a soul is not physical and thus not subject.

    Once dressed in a mirror image of his attire, except for a grey cloak rather than a jet black one. He left his room and descended the stairs. Only a few steps remained before reaching the bottom. Placing his foot on solid ground, Al leaned back to dodge the incoming object.

    Reacting on instinct, a wooden chair flew across the room. The piece of furniture smashed into the nearby wall and left him unharmed. Curious, Al leaned down to inspect the fragments and found it utterly demolished.

    Observing the situation, it was clear what was going on. "Bar fight!" He shouted those words, grinning like a child.

    Despite his loud declaration, nothing changed. Many armour-clad individuals were still going at it like a free-for-all. Two distinct groups were clashing, several bystanders were also taking part. Casting a glance around, taking in the full sight, drunken patrons were throwing their fists around.

    It was uncertain if they had any stake in the conflict beyond their inebriated decision-making. The major fight revolved around two familiar people. James was fighting two men outfitted in grey leather armour. Their attire was uniform, same colour scheme and wolf symbology. The insignia on their breastplate in the right corner was not easily visible.

    Sally was engaged in a fistfight with three opponents. Two of them were stumbling around, obviously drunk. The third seemed way too serious to be in a bar fight. He was ducking and weaving, trying to get in a good punch. It seemed like he knew how to fight. His style was like earth boxing.

    Not having a stake in this little conflict, Al moved to the side. Grabbed a toppled-over chair and seated himself comfortably. Strangely, the bartender, who had been rather passive behind his little counter, came over. With the brutal free-for-all brawl behind him, the grizzled and bearded man asked for Al''s order, without a care in the world.

    Stunned for only a few moments, he glanced at the still ongoing fight before returning to the barkeep. "Just a pint of ale and some soup, perhaps." Of course, Al knew it was way too early for alcohol. But he figured such rules didn''t apply in this dimension.

    The bartender replied with an affirmative nod and quickly left without a second glance. Al waited for his order and entertained himself with the free show. Leaning back in his chair, he took in the sights and a thrilling idea came to mind.

    Clenching a fist in front, he pretended to have a microphone. Turning to the left, he pointed at the festivities. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are here tonight for a momentous occasion, a free-for-all brawl!" His voice was deep, not too loud, but enough to make people think he had an audience. "In the left corner, we have the terrifying, the fearsome, Battling Steel James!" He gave the man a nickname that seemed suitable.

    Inspecting the clash, Al moved almost in sync with jabs and uppercuts. Observing the matchup between the puny opponents trying to seize advantage of their numbers. A quick look revealed that they were outmatched.

    Smiling to himself, Al shifted to Sally and her match-up. Sucking in a breath, he began again. "In the right corner, we have the fierce, the powerful, Sally Jaw Crusher!" Announcing gleefully, Sally''s left hook instantly gratified him.

    One of her opponents went down with a dull thud, his face disfigured in pain. It was clear she had broken something. Leaning back in his chair, he awaited the beverage and meal. Taking in the scene like an indoor show.

    James kneed one of his attackers in the groin and then smashed his head into the bar. With one attacker knocked out, his attention was diverted. At that moment, his second attacker withdrew a short dagger. Keeping it concealed like an assassin.

    The man was about to commit a foul in the fair match-up. Shaking his head from side to side, Al looked down at the man. His eyes filled with disappointment, resembling a father witnessing their child cheating at sports.

    Unable to stand for this egregious foul of fair play. Al reached out with his hand, lazily. The web-like tattoo glowed faintly, and he reached out with his mind. Crafting an ethereal replica of the appendage, it swiftly traversed the distance.

    James spotted the incoming blade, his opponent ready to gut him. Before he could react, the dagger stopped midway. Confused, he noticed the struggle the man was engaged in. The man held the dagger, ready to strike, but he couldn''t advance. An unseen force was pulling him back.

    He glanced to the side and noticed the glowing hand of Al. The situation became clear right before he decked the guy with a single punch. The man came tumbling down like a sack of bricks. James gave a curt nod of thanks. He then turned to his associate and leapt over to help her fight.

    He engaged in a fistfight with one of Sally''s attackers. Of course, she had already dealt with one and the second was barely defending against her barrage of attacks. Several jabs came flying at his cheek, knocking him off balance.

    The fight ended with an uppercut to the jaw, sending him flying into the back wall. James ended his confrontation, grasping the last attacker in a bear hug. Lifting him off the ground and throwing him away like a small child.

    With the fight settled, both James and Sally moved back to their table. They paid no attention to the ones who were beaten and injured. Rising to their feet uncomfortably, they started spouting profanities. They used words like, "This is not over" or "The pyres never forget". The words didn''t phase them. The group of battered men quickly left the inn. At least as well as they could.

    Immediately after, the barkeep arrived at my table, placing a pint of ale, a hot bowl of soup and bread. He gave Al a nod. "Thank you, wizard, for intervening." Al tilted his head in confusion, as if he didn''t know what he was talking about. The barkeep only replied with a sly smile before leaving for his duties.

    Al looked down at the bowl. It was truly a simple dish, some chicken and vegetables immersed in hot water. It was what he expected from a medieval world. He looked down at the distasteful dish with a frown. Shaking his head, he withdrew a small pouch.

    Opening it and spilling its granular contents lightly over the soup. Taking his wooden spoon, he stirred the dish and tasted it. The now garlic-flavored broth, with a satisfying taste spread throughout, reminded him of home.

 Chapter 9 - New Friends

    Memories of late nights in his one-room LA apartment, his minimum wage job, only afforded a few luxuries. Putting himself through college, he survived on chicken noodle soup. He always added garlic powder to give it a little kick, and this situation was no exception.

    Lost in his reverie of the past, he hadn''t noticed the two figures standing before him. Taking in their appearances, he smiled, showing a sincere and welcoming presence. It was James and Sally, the two fighters in his fantasy league.

    Sally was the first to speak. Her voice was not high-pitched or deep, but somewhere in the middle. "Hi there, wizard, may we join you?" She was polite. He had a sense it was artificial, to put people at ease.

    Al had no problem; he did not object to such falsehoods. He nodded, gesturing the two to sit. They both did so and put their respective soups and drinks down. Now, with the three seated, a moment of awkwardness set in.

    Al didn¡¯t seem to notice or simply didn''t care. He kept on eating his delicious soup. Finally, someone spoke up after a few minutes of silence.

    James glanced at his compatriot before looking back at Al. "Thanks for helping me out lad, that dagger would have gutted me had you not intervened." The bulky man spoke. His accent reminded Al of a mixture of old English and Irish. It was welcome, as it reminded him of some of his friends.

    Those Irish gangsters from New York were no joke, the best drinking buddies a guy could ask for. His thoughts soured, recalling how relations between his former gang and theirs went. But that was all in the past. He cut his old gang affiliations when he left them to be a model citizen.

    Then he got summoned to a magical world and killed loads of people. Guess he failed at the whole model citizen thing. Sure, most of them were bad people, and some he was iffy on. But that was him rationalising again. In his defence, most of them tried to kill him first.

    Shirking off those memories, he responded with mock confusion. Gesturing to himself with an exaggerated point. This elicited a small chuckle from the man and a slight scowl from her.

    She immediately corrected, quite annoyed. "Seriously, I saw you use force magic. You''re a wizard. That''s obvious to anyone with half a brain." She turned to James with a smirk. "I''m sorry, James, I know it''s a touchy subject for you." The lack of derision made it obvious she was joking. In response, James acted being offended.

    He leaned over to her, clenching his fist, showing just how large it was. "Oh, we can be on the same page, Sally, when I knock out half your brain." He slammed his fist into his open palm.

    Sally replied with a flick of her hair and a snappy comeback. "You wish your tiny fist could damage this work of art?" She pointed at her head, calling attention to her symmetrical face.

    Al mused on their conversation, specifically her mentioning force magic. He needed to study the magic of this world. It would be far too convenient for it to be the same as on Matesh. They didn¡¯t have categories like force magic. Most wizards used runic lettering for spells. They didn¡¯t categorise by magic type.

    Both stared at each other before eating their respective soups. Sally glanced at Al and after taking a sip of the tasteless broth, showed no genuine enjoyment.

    "So, are you part of those snobs at the union?" Her left eyebrow rose.

    Tilting his head in confusion, Al pondered her words before realising the significance. He shrugged and then nodded in reply. "By snobs, you mean the wizarding union?" Replying, he too started eating without a care.

    Slurping her food, a trickle of broth stained her lips. She wiped it away before speaking. "Yeah, I''m talking about the wizarding union. Uppity snobs the lot of them."

    It was clear she held disdain for them, possibly directed at Al if he was not careful. Clearly, the lady had an issue with wizards, something Al didn''t much care for.

    He played it cool and speak normally. "I suppose I will join the union." He stated his intentions nonchalantly, a passing statement.

    In response, Sally flashed a contemptuous look. This did not go unnoticed by those present, and James cut in. "Hey now, no need to frown, there is nothing wrong with a man following his path." Trying to lighten the mood, he showed a sincere smile.

    Al noticed how he was stepping into problematic territory. Despite that, he remained calm. "The Wizarding Union offered me a position; it seemed practical to take it." He stated matter-of-factly that it was the most obvious thing in the world.

    This elicited a sharp scowl from Sally. She was just edging on the precipice of a tirade. The fear in James''s eyes was becoming more noticeable. The man attempted to make himself smaller. Quite the feat for someone built like a tank. Despite his fear, he seemed to recoup his resolve.

    Before he could even get out a word, Al spoke instead. "You seem to not approve, please speak your mind." Gesturing, he asked her to let loose said tirade.

    The response startled the female mercenary, but she quickly regained her composure. "The Union are a bunch of snobs; their standards are so high you would need to climb the tallest mountain to reach them and don''t get me started on how they discriminate against spirit contractors." The pitch of her voice spiked; her shoulders heaved as if out of breath.

    She quickly reclaimed her senses, clenching her fists and taking a swig of ale, downing the contents. She slammed the mug with a satisfied gulp. Shuffling in her seat, inhaling a sharp intake of breath, before burping.

    James chimed in with a snort. "That wasn''t very ladylike." It was clear he was teasing her. The wide grin made it quite obvious.

    The reaction was to be expected. Her I''m going to kill you glare came out. He shuffled back in his seat, frightened like a child. The staring contest lasted for a short while.

    "I can make you ladylike with a sharp implement taken to your lower anatomy." The grin on her face made you think she was just teasing. Still, James gulped in fear.

    Al decided it was time to cough and chime in. "I get the sense you have an issue with the Union." Raising his mug, he took a small sip, his right eyebrow raised. The response was James nearly spitting his drink.

    "Just be wary of those bastards. They will drop you the first sign you''re not up to snuff." The indignation she held was obvious. Her expression was a scowl, held back by sheer will.

    Al tilted his head to the side and ruminated on her words. Taking another sip, he nodded. "I take it you are talking from experience?" He asked.

    Casting a glance at her armour, weapons and general demeanour. She reminded him of a Valkyrie or a Viking shield maiden. There was a sense of skill and grace along with the brawn and violence. He smiled. The presence of a powerful and skilled woman reminded him of her.

    Bringing himself out of that reverie, he adjusted in his seat to listen. "Yeah, the bastards called me a two-bit witch, barely capable of intermediate spells." Slamming her empty pint onto the table, she yelled to the barkeep for a refill. Additional alcohol was required for this conversation.

    While waiting for her refill, she went on and explained her experiences. "I shelled out my life savings to get in the door. I had the gift for witchcraft and after two years of training they dropped me because my magic wasn''t adequate." Gesturing with her hands to signify mock quotation marks and an annoyed snort.

    James remained silent. He had become used to the situation. Al expressed a piqued interest. "Is this a common occurrence for the Guild?" He asked, more out of curiosity rather than concern.

    He had little interest in retaining his membership long term. All a means to an end, such is life and limb. The internal quote sprang from the deep recesses of his mind.

    Shockingly, Sally expressed incredulity. It was clear she had not expected this. Then she realised, and she quickly shifted to a smile. With the strange expression, her tone equally changed. "Aww, poor little ignorant boy, so innocent to the ways of the world." The words oozed a patronising tone, something Al did not take well.

    A flash of annoyance welled up inside, but it was only for a fraction of a second. He quickly regained his composure and smiled back.

    Deciding to humour the woman. "Yes, this innocent boy requires your help," the woman humoured.

    She smiled, folding her arms, smug superiority on her face, but not an arrogant smugness. Akin to elders looking down at a child, knowing they have superior intelligence and experience.

    "Yes, I will help you understand the ways of the city. Let the illustrious and beautiful Sally be your guide." She threw her hands in the air with a theatrical flair.

    James snorted, watching the situation unfold. Sally turned to look at him, eyes wide open and unblinking. She glared at the annoying insect chirping in the background. Al suspected she may swat him away with a newspaper. Note to self: check if they have a newspaper in circulation. He noted in the memory palace he called his mighty brain.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Both of them stared each other down. "Come on Sal, why do you have to call him a boy? I mean, he is clearly of a similar age." Pointing out the similarity in age between Sally and Al. He immediately shrank back, trying to make his massive bulk as small as possible.

    Her expression never changed. Not a single facial muscle flinched. Al suspected that someone may have cast a paralysis spell on her. Of course, she proved him wrong when she finally moved.

    "I am trying to help him, James. When do I ever have time to be an elder sister?" Turning back to Al, she provided a truly beaming smile.

    Normally, such an expression would warm a heart. But it genuinely scared him stiff. Now he was suspecting she cast a spell on him. He mentally checked his defences and found no breaches.

    James harrumphed. "An elder sister, but Sally, you are an elder sister. You have three younger brothers." Pointing out this very fact seemed like a foolish attempt to challenge her argument.

    As swift as the wind, she shifted back to James. Glaring at the man who had claimed her ire, she leaned over. Her presence dwarfed her bulky companion. "We do not speak of those brats. They did not respect my authority as elder sister." Lifting her chin, she turned her down her nose. It was as if she could see her siblings beneath her.

    James scratched his head just to the right of his temple. It always itched whenever he was in trouble. With a quick intake of breath, he psyched himself up. Performing his usual routine of a mental cage fight with Sally. Despite having dominion over his mental world, she always won. She also always ended up on top, straddling him. He shook that image away, trying to keep the blush down.

    He resolved to speak and matched her word for word. "Come on Sal, you can''t still hold a grudge, they were young and stupid boys, besides our Al here is the same age as you, perhaps even older." Gesturing as if to place the man as an example. To plead his case, he gathered and organised valid evidence.

    Her stare was ice cold. It was as if James had transformed into that which she despised most. "I said before and I will say again, do not mention those ingrates again, under penalty of a beat down in front of every man in this tavern." Delivering her ultimatum, she beamed with joy at the sight of a grown man of such a stature, cowering before her verbal might. "Besides, we don''t know how old our dear Al is. He could be younger than I."

    James grumbled one last semblance of defiance against his lady and mistress. A title she had taken for herself and one James allowed and could not fight against. "Well, that''s because to this day I don''t know how old you are." Chiding his companion with this very fact, he expected the expected blowback.

    Her response was fierce and straight to the point. "That''s because it is rude to ask a proper lady such a question." Lifting her chin, she fluttered her hair to the side. Crafting the mock air of a prim and proper noblewoman.

    James shrunk back, lowering his head and pouting. The frown seemed to pull out an equally similar pouty face to Sally. Proceeding to raise her hand, Al suspected she might hit him. Instead, she patted his head, ruffling it pleasantly.

    Al swore he saw the man groaned in delight, like a puppy pet by his owner. "There, there, I forgive you." She stroked his hair a few more times before she realised they had company.

    They stopped, embarrassed, the slightly reddened cheeks attested to that. Al pretended to pay it no mind, withdrew his garlic powder and sprinkled some more. He knew it was too much, but that flavour was too intoxicating for moderation.

    James eyed the soup. "What is that, if you don''t mind me asking?" He directed Al to the small pouch of garlic powder.

    He looked down and exchanged glances with the two. Raising the pouch and displaying its contents, both leaned over, taking deep whiffs of the pungent scent. Sally recoiled from the odd smell, scrunching her face in a scowl. James tilted his head in contemplation. He remained there for a short time before the glow of recognition appeared.

    "Is that garlic?" After giving the powder a few more sniffs, he nodded to confirm.

    Al responded with a warm yet thin smile, replying in the affirmative. Afterwards, he offered a taste for his two companions. Both agreed eagerly, and he sprinkled the powder onto each of their soups. James dug in quickly, savouring every bite. Letting out a shrill groan of satisfaction. It was as if this was the best food he had ever tasted. Al cocked his head to the side, confused.

    Turning to Sally, who was sipping the soup, one spoonful at a time. It seemed like the addition held no difference to her. Yet, a slightly satisfied grin couldn''t help but escape her lips. She hid it well, perhaps not wanting to express herself overtly.

    Out of the side, James tried to speak, soup dribbling down his mouth. "I can''t believe no one has thought of grinding garlic into a powder and spreading it on soup." The wide-brimmed smile on his messy soup-covered face was comical. Al had to stifle a laugh, lest he offend the man.

    He still found it odd that this would be a new concept to them. They know what garlic is, yet they don''t have garlic powder. Perhaps they hadn''t fashioned the process yet? His thoughts turned to speculation, which was quickly dashed. He neither had the time nor the need to ponder such things.

    Sally scowled. His messy eating unnerved or perhaps embarrassed her. James noticed and quickly stopped his ravenous eating, adopting the dining habits of the noble-born. Standing up straight, wiping off his mouth with his sleeve, and picking.

    Sally returned to Al, giving an apologetic look. "I apologise to my companion; he is a beast sometimes." Shaking her head from side to side.

    It was as if she attempted to rid herself of the image. James gave her a look like he was again a puppy dog, whining to his owner. Sally tried to look away but couldn''t help herself and looked back.

    Her expression softened, meeting that cute face. She reached over as if to caress his cheek. Instead, she wiped away a slither of soup, gently. Smiling, she smacked him over the head. He grunted in pain, and the pouting face returned.

    Once her little punishment ceremony was complete, she turned back to Al. "Don''t mind James, get used to him." She added.

    Al didn''t mind and gestured, so the table atmosphere dropped to a pleasant air. This quickly shifted when Sally started blurting out words.

    "So, Al, are you going to hold up in some dusty library like the guilders, or are you going to get some real adventure in you?" She blurted, as if it were a race against the clock.

    He tilted his head to the side, curious. Thinking for a moment, he replied. "I suppose a bit of both. The library holds knowledge and I would be a fool not to seize the advantage." Her shoulders slumped as if she was plotting to sway the man. Her head tilted downwards, perhaps feeling defeated. "Then again, the road is a brilliant teacher and I dare not resist her siren''s song." That seemed to raise her spirits, like a light shined upon her soul, proving the world was a beautiful place.

    She smiled widely, and the verbal bombardment began in earnest. "That''s the spirit, indeed the road is a skilled teacher. Though I don¡¯t know what a siren is." Paraphrasing his words, she wholeheartedly agreed, and Al noted the lack of Siren¡¯s in this world. "If you want a true adventure, you must venture out. How about it? Have you got an adventure?" Al shook his head. It was the truth. He only had a goal, not a path. "That''s terrible, you know what? How about you come with us? We have a job up north." Making the offer, she waited expectantly.

    His eyes fluttered with confusion. "Thank you for the offer, but." He stopped for a moment, realisation dawning on him. The north. Al wondered in his mind. His eyes widened, clamping down on his surprise. Regaining his composure, he spoke again. "The north, you say?" He queried.

    She nodded. She had him hooked and pressed to her advantage. "Yes, we have a job at the northern border. Barbarians have been attacking caravans." She explained.

    Frowning at this sudden news, Alistair pondered his plans within the confines of his head. Ikarus is in the north. Perhaps I can cross the border and gain access accompanying these two. Thinking, he weighed the options, eventually nodding in agreement.

    Everyone pleased with the idea collaborated on planning their journey. Al explained his intention to visit the Guild library and would meet them in two days. They all settled on the idea, especially James, who expressed his joy at the future spices he could drag out of him. The three parted on good terms, with a promise to meet again in two days'' time. Al left the inn with the barkeep''s thanks and made his way to the Wizards Guild.

 Chapter 10 - The Library, The book And The Stalker.

    Al arrived at the Wizards Guild in no time. The building was enormous and grey, made of smooth stone. It looked like a US military fortification, but once he withdrew some spectacles, he saw the many arcane runes etched into every stone. The runes were invisible to all, without such equipment or spells. They were indeed impressive articles of magic.

    He could not understand them; they bore no resemblance to the Runecraft he was familiar with. The runes he had etched into his flesh seemed like crude doodles in comparison. The magic he learned, whilst he was a hero, seemed inelegant in comparison.

    Regardless of his ignorance, he could see how the mana interacted with the stone. Discerning how each sigil strengthened the building, he concluded it was enough to survive a missile strike. This place was warded up the ass. It would take a while for me to reduce this building to rubble. He thought.

    Respecting the craftsmanship, Al quickly entered the dull grey archway. After a few steps, he reached a simple wooden door. The door also had rune work inlaid, giving it similar durability. Gripping the door handle, he felt a strange tingling sensation. It only lasted for a moment before the sound of a soft click. Opening the door, he entered.

    The inside of the building was equally simple, not as gaudy as Al would have expected. It seemed to be the mirror image of those adventurer guilds one would have seen in anime. Before him were several rows of desks, each with a clerk seated and serving members.

    The rest of the area was a wide-open space, with many chairs and tables. Each of them was full of denizens, all wearing the stylised robes of the guild. It appeared as if there was a dress code. Everybody, man and woman alike, wearing multi-coloured robes.

    They all had odd sigils woven into the fabric just above the left breast. Some appeared to be red flames or plant imagery, others were black circles. Al paid little attention to this and instead moved to stand in line.

    Waiting for a short time, he heard snippets of gossip from the surrounding people. He heard mentions of magical experiments, the heroic trinity and the rising conflict with the federation.

    Turning to the side, he noted a wooden board with many parchments attached. He smiled. Another anime trope found in another world. Thoughts arose about the potential influence other universes have on Earth''s media.

    Waiting, he finally arrived at the front of the line. The clerk was a young man, around fifteen or sixteen. His face was absent hair, not a single trace of a beard that proceeded to manhood.

    The eyes were a dark green, denoting concealed exhaustion. The hair was light brown and shortly trimmed above his ears. A handsome young lad who may break a fair lady''s heart in the future.

    Al smiled at the boy. "Good morn guild member. How may I assist you?" He queried in a soft and inviting tone, neither too high nor too low.

    Returning a smile with equal effort, the two greeted each other. "I am Al, a new member and visit the guild library." His words were short and sweet.

    The clerk nodded happily, understanding the intent. "Of course, and congratulations on your membership. All you need to do is sign in and I will have someone escort you." Replying with a smile, the clerk swiftly withdrew a piece of parchment and quill.

    Placing it down, he directed Al to sign in the space below a list of previous signees. Inspecting the parchment, Al nodded a few times before signing his name. Al Wildcraft, a pseudonym he used frequently.

    Once done, the clerk reclaimed it and directed a colleague to guide him along. The colleague was a young blonde woman, looking to be around her early teens.

    She guided Al through a door on the opposite end. Once entered, a vast expanse of bookshelves greeted him, layered across five floors connected to winding stairs.

    Guiding him to several pedestals, each with their own books. She gestured to one of the left pedestals, containing an open book. The others had several robed figures leafing through them.

    She explained their purpose, a catalogue of the entire library''s stock. After she finished, she bid her farewell with a quick bow.

    Once she had left, Al sifted through the pages, attempting to locate a specific section. Many pages later, he discovered several references to the discipline of travel. What the wizards refer to as magic that can carry someone through a portal to another location.

    The section was sparse, with only a few volumes catalogued on the subject. Reading, he smirked at the ease of his task. The summoning ritual is truly a marvel of magic. I can not only speak and understand their language but read it as well. He commented on the seamless ability to understand their language.

    Suddenly, his face faded to a frown, and his eyes squinted. Noting a catalogued volume listed at the very bottom of the page, he read the title. "The Otherworldly nature of the Upire." He pondered the meaning behind the term otherworldly. Deciding it was worth a look, he mentally added the book''s name to the list.

    Once he had finished reading, he closed it and hunted every volume down. He got nearly all of them, except for one. He did not get the volume titled The Fundamentals of Travel Magic, Volume One. A snobbish wizard stole from his grasp it.

    Al''s state of dress apparently offended him and stole the book, likely out of spite. Not letting that phase, he took his collection of only four books to the nearest free table. In the corner, away from as many prying eyes as possible.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Sitting comfortably, he read as much as he could, committing all to memory. With each word crossing his vision, a faint rune softly shone, just below his neckline. The sigil was an advanced enchantment of Mateshian magic, meant to expand the human mind into an orderly form.

    A memory palace replaced the disorganised vault that once plagued the younger Al. With every word read, committed to the vast arrays of fabricated mental libraries stored within.

    The consumption of information was complete. Al leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, relaxing his weary mind. The rune dimmed sharply, its magical effect fading.

    He sat back in the chair and turned his thoughts to other matters. One volume was the basics of this world''s magic. Cliff notes version, wizardry was basically spell craft. It reminded me of the spellcasters back on Matesh.

    Rumours suggested spellcasters were just clerics who prayed their magic into existence. But nothing was certain, at least when I investigated. Here, this world''s magic functioned similarly. At least wizardry did. It was all about words of power, reshaping reality to the casters'' will.

    He wondered if these words truly had power or if it was some sort of mnemonic suggestion that shaped mana into the effect. He pondered if it was worth learning a spell or two.

    Setting that aside, he tried to recall any mention of branding magic. The unique magic he had developed on Matesh. Many called him mad for trying it, but it had yielded significant results.

    He had tattooed much of his body with many spells for any situation. But now they were malfunctioning. Some didn''t function properly, some worked fine, while others became overloaded with mana anytime he activated them.

    He would have to study each brand to determine what to do for each. But for now, he had other things to investigate.

    With several books now effectively downloaded into his skull, Al rose to return them. From an outside perspective, he had only skimmed the books for a few hours, not taking in any page for too long. In truth, he had taken in every word and was now perusing them.

    With the books returned to their dusty resting place, he left the library. Along the way down the staircases, he pondered the information he absorbed.

    The topics of travel magic were most informative, detailing various spells to open spatial rifts. He descended the first staircase, narrowly dodging a bespectacled young man, his face glued to a book. These spatial folds seem to be limited to direct space travel. The furthest ever attempted was across an entire continent. Impressive, to say the least, but not what I am looking for. As he descended another staircase, he noticed a man and woman hidden behind one stack. Both of them held each other in their respective embraces, kissing ravenously. He paid them no mind, intent on giving them their privacy.

    Reaching the final staircase, his mind wandered to the more obscure topic. The Otherworldly nature of the Upire. Now, that volume intrigued me. On the surface, it seemed like a manifesto, written by a disturbed mind. Yet, it depicted a race of immortals that arrived here from beyond this world. Reaching the last step, he landed on a solid stone. The text described them as immortal blood drinkers, similar to the Vampires I encountered on Matesh. Traversing the library hall, he reached the doorway. The Court of Night, I encountered, was not an advanced race capable of inter-dimensional travel. In fact, they were decadent nobles who ruled over a subservient populace of humans. Perhaps these Upire are an offshoot that advanced further than the court? Opening the door, Al left the guildhall.

    Now on the street, he made his way towards the inn, his mind still reeling with speculation. He had not noticed the late hour; the sun had set, and darkness crept over the now-lit city.

    The author detailed the historical account of the Upire''s Empire. They once ruled over most of this continent and were the dominant race for a millennium. Swiftly navigating around some streetwalkers, he turned a corner and down an alleyway. Regardless of this new piece of information, Ikarus was still the priority. Yet, I cannot ignore the symmetry. Perhaps fate is guiding me. The volume identified former sites of the Upire and one is in the northern region of the disputed lands. Smiling casually, Al continued down the alleyway, without a care in the world.

    Travelling on drab and wet stone, the wind picked up beside him. Fluttering his cloak, it crested his face like a lover''s caress. In the deep silence, one could hear a whisper. "You are being followed."

    Al raised his alert, the urge to reply stuck in his throat. Standing stationary, he listened carefully, only hearing the drops of water and the faint pattering of footsteps in the far distance.

    Stock still, he kept his senses trained on the outside world. The silence was the only thing that greeted him, the silence far too artificial to be normal. It was as if the entire insect and animal population had vanished.

    This select area had become devoid of sound, or perhaps devoid of life, except his own. Suddenly, he sensed something spurning him, a faint clanking sound above. Moving his gaze to a left-side roof, he noticed a shadow moving in the distance.

 Chapter 11 - The Stranger

    Spurned forward, his feet slowly rose in the air, gravity no longer held sway. His action scared the shadow, and it retreated. The silhouette faded quickly. He soared into the sky, not wanting his guest to leave without an introduction. With his bird''s-eye view, he could see his quarry, a tiny figure zipping across rooftops.

    Al propelled himself like a tactical missile with his foe in sight. The wind rushed past with a tremendous gale. For a split second, he pondered his death mid-flight, the sight of his tattered and destroyed body sticking out of some building.

    The image flashed across his mind, begging to become a reality. He didn''t let it take root, instead; he focused on the tremendous speed.

    The split-second ended, and he hovered above the shadow. Stopped in its tracks, trembling in fear. He saw the roof shake under the figure''s weight, despite his small stature.

    Before realising, the figure leapt into the air with inhuman speed. It sank in its grip, taking him in a bear hug. The arms felt like a vice grip. Al looked down at his attacker, immediately recognising the face.

    It was the young teenage boy, the same one he encountered during the whole vigilante thing. Though his face was different, his eyes were bloodshot, a predatory crimson hue. Sharp canines jutted from his mouth, unveiled for all to see.

    The teen opened his maw, intent on taking a chuck out of Al''s throat. Quickly, he activated a sigil at the centre of his chest. It glowed brightly through his clothes. The sigil had a shape like a circle, with two lines through the centre and several runic glyphs etched above and below.

    With it glowing brightly, a force of energy erupted from his core. Gravity, harnessed as a weapon, burst forth and sent everything around him flying. The rapid influx of energy rebounded from his core, sending a wave of repulsive devastation.

    Someone sent him flying across the alleyway, causing him to crash into the neighbouring roof. Freed of the crazed teen, Al descended, his feet barely reaching the roof as the force continued to grow larger. Bending and tearing the world, his surroundings rippled with gravitational force.

    Grunting in pain from the influx of mana and clenching his fists, he felt the sensation radiate from his chest down his limbs. His body vibrated and the gravitational field widened. Hardening his resolve, he reached for his chest, deactivating the sigil. The field vanished with a swift hiss of power, fizzling to nothing.

    With the oppressive force gone, he sucked in a deep breath, stabilising himself. Feeling comfortable, he ascended to the sky. Stepping mid-flight, as if the air was a smooth floor and he was on a peaceful stroll.

    Reaching the enemy that tried to take a bite out of him, he lowered his gaze. His glare softened as he peered down at the pained creature, contemplating the idea that his enemy was nothing more than a child.

    This lasted for only a moment. This child flashed fangs, ready to strike. Yet, despite the fury, he stayed his hand. Al could see that the boy was struggling to keep himself in check. He knew too well that expression. He had seen it before, hunger.

    "You look hungry. Have you eaten?" He asked the boy.

    The vampiric teen looked up, brandishing his fangs and hissed like an animal. He was panting, and the sight of a fresh wound on his left side caught Al''s eye. He had a wound; The oddest thing about it was that he was not healing.

    Al had met vampires before and they were tough bastards to kill. Yet this one seemed to be as fragile as a human. He tilted his head in confusion before the light of understanding dawned on him.

    Ignoring the fact that the child had not replied. He withdrew a glass vial and a short dagger from his soul storage. Uncorking the vial, he placed it beneath his wrist. He made a quick slice of his hand and the blood poured into the vial, funnelled directly and without a single drop spilled.

    This was all in defiance of gravity. He manipulated the flow with his left hand, guiding the blood telekinetically. The vampire hissed and growled, his eyes leered hungrily. Al gave him a quick look, cold and detached as the blood flowed.

    The vial quickly filled to the brim and Al flinched in pain, a sigil lit up on his left rib. Slowly, the wound started to knit back together, good as new in seconds. Putting away the dagger, he offered the vial a sincere offer. The boy shivered with indecision.

    "This should do for now until we can set up something better," Al explained, pressing him to take the vial.

    The boy lunged forward, quickly taking the glass container out of his hand. Retreating to the edge of the roof, he angrily uncorked it. Wrapping his shivering fingers around it. Once the vial was free from its restriction, he downed the contents. Guzzling it like a man in the desert, he slumped down, his legs dangling off the roof, and let out a satisfied sigh.

    Al decided it was safe to approach and did so. Still walking in mid-air, he realised and descended. Reaching the boy, he could hear sobbing from the slumped-over child. Upon reaching his side, he sat down next to him.

    A pang of sympathy welled up in his chest. Adjusting his neck as if the sensation had a physical reaction. "It''s alright my boy, every vampire goes through that every once in a while." Trying to reassure him, he put his hand on the boy''s shoulder. The image of the young man biting his hand flashed across his mind. Quickly he retracted the attempt, worried about losing a limb.

    The child raised to meet him, tears fell. Glaring with a mixture of fury and sorrow, he spoke timidly. "What is a vampire?" Asking through all the sobbing, Al tilted his head in confusion.

    Confused, before a term came to mind. "Oh, I made a mistake before a term came to mind." Expecting the boy''s eyes to lighten up, he was instead confused.

    Wiping away his tears, he tried to reclaim his composure and a little dignity. "What is an upire?" He asked, as confused as a child could ever be.

    Al frowned, not expecting that response. "Well, according to the Wizard''s library, that''s what your species is called. At least you fit the description."

    The boy mouthed the word a few times, trying to get used to it. His face changed to anger as if a thought came to the forefront of his mind. Turning his gaze to Al, he pointed accusingly. "It''s your fault, you ruined everything!" He accused.

    "How so?"

    He examined his brief history, trying to locate the affront. All he could find was the whole vigilante rescuing thing, nothing else. The boy was still angry, and Al''s lack of reaction infuriated him.

    After a few moments of absolute silence, the tirade began. "Because of you beating up those guys, we no longer had any protection, and then the hunters came. They took my sister. I only got away because she told me to run." The boy sank back into sobbing, his face once more in his hands.

    The situation became clear; he pondered and came up with a scenario. "So, those thugs, who were pressuring you and your sister for protection money, were keeping these hunters off your back?¡± The upire nodded.

    Al realised he had inadvertently caused this situation with the whole vigilante thing. In a sense, he was partially or perhaps wholly responsible. The only question was, what should he do about this?

    He didn''t care. Saving people was just a hobby. They weren''t his people. This wasn''t his world. Matesh wasn''t my world either, and I cared about people there. He recalled the faces of several people he would love to see again. But here, in this world, everyone was a stranger.

    He wondered if he should help those poor, na?ve heroes. But what could he get out of that? Maybe a few allies, but he didn''t want to be any more on the radar than he was. He would consider helping them if time permitted. Not now, though. He had far greater concerns. Looking out at the night sky, he thought for a moment. Once he concluded, he decided.

    "I have a day to spare. What¡¯s your name?" He asked.

    The boy, with his face in his hands, whispered a name. "Felix."

    It was barely audible, but Al heard it. Nodding a few times, he asked another question. "What''s your sister''s name?" This time, the question brought the child out of his tear-soaked hands.

    Felix looked back with quivering lips, barely getting the name out. "Joan." He sniffled.

    Al nodded. A plan was taking shape. He turned back to the city''s skyline and cast a gaze across the bustling city dotted with stone and wooden buildings. It showcased a clear distinction between the poor and the wealthy, one glowing in light, the other steeped in darkness.

    He lingered for a time, a frown forcing its way down his face. "Tell me about these hunters?" Al questioned, still gazing across the imperial city, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

    Felix returned, eyes wide with an expression of hope mixed with suspicion. Dropping his eyes, he appeared to weigh his options.

    "If I tell you, will you help me get my sister back?" The boy asked, pleading and at the end of his rope.

    Al turned to the boy and shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. That all depends on what you know about these hunters."

    Felix understood and explained everything he knew. His explanation was relatively short, he had little information. But what he could explain painted a gory picture. Essentially, these hunters were a chapter of the imperial knights. Vampire hunters or monster hunters, to be more accurate. They called themselves the Holy Order of Pyrus. The fire elemental is a patron of theirs.

    They are to eradicate threats to the empire, specifically demons, vampires and mutants. Felix here being an upire, made the cut and needed purging. Al pondered, deciding on his next course of action.

    ¡°You wouldn''t know where these holy hunters are located?"

    Felix nodded meekly, pointing to his nose. Initially, Al was confused, but slowly he understood the meaning. With both of them on the same page, they left to find this supposed holy order.

    The two had been walking in the night''s dead for some time. Passing dimly lit buildings with sparse foot traffic. Felix was sniffing the air and directing them towards the unknown destination. He had explained to Al briefly that he could discern the specific scents of specific people.

    It made tracking him down an easy endeavour. Alhad expected as much. After about half an hour, he informed Al that they were getting close. Pointing at a nondescript wooden building.

    Approaching it, Al noticed the complete lack of pedestrians. "This looks like another facet of the slums." He mumbled, prompting Felix to tilt his head, trying to listen.

    Al smiled and let out a soft chuckle. They walked, and he sounded out a musical beat that quickly morphed into a guitar riff. With every step, it raised in volume.

    It was a song from his younger days. A rock ballad sung by a band he was obsessed with in high school. Right In My Heart! By the aptly named band. The adventures.

    "I knew I was done! The moment you walked right in!" Excitement propelled him forward, the rock ballad adding a little emphasis to every step. "Girl you are fine, a hell of a dime, another drop of sin!" Reaching the door, the drumbeat in his soul steadily grew. Al smiled, finishing the lyric. "Bring me to life. Out of this strife. The edge of a knife. For the rest of my life!" He kicked in the door with augmented strength.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    The force reduced it to splinters, revealing a small, dimly lit room. A few candles spaced out on wooden tables illuminated four figures. A person had tied a figure to a chair.

    Two of the figures were all dressed like cutthroats, while one was standing to the side, dressed in white priestly robes. The cut-throat wearing the dark overcoat stopped his brutalisation of the girl and turned to the invading pair.

    Both Al and Felix had different reactions. Felix was shocked and then angry, his fangs descending and his eyes bloodshot. Al grinned, raising his left palm and faced the cut-throat.

    The sigil on his palm lit up before anyone could react. He completed the song. "Right in my heart!" Lightning crackled, released in one long arc, right into the cut-throats face. He dropped to his knees, twitching like an epileptic. Al turned to the guy dressed like a priest.

    The priest withdrew a mace from his side. The weapon gleamed with a bright light. Thrusting the weapon with lethal intent, he screamed a self-righteous threat. "Begone demon of foul blood, may the spirit of Pyrus purify you!" He spoke as if the words were some a spell or ritual.

    The light grew, engulfing Al. It was so bright; that he could only see faint shapes. He heard a scream to his left and the rapid shuffling of unsteady feet. The light faded without a scratch on him, leaving the vampire hunter confused. He looked at his mace and inspected it before slamming the smooth part into his palm. He acted as if the weapon had malfunctioned, and he was fixing it with every meagre blow.

    Al had enough of this and immediately electrocuted the man with a quick activation of his rune. Oddly enough, the strike hit him with no effect at all. It seemed he had some resistance to electrical attacks. The apparent lightning-proof man raised his mace, ready to clobber Al over the head.

    His strike descended swiftly; a short steel rod spiked at the end, moved ever closer. Before it could splatter Al''s brain with a rough swing. The protection rune activated on its own, detecting the strike. Al whispered a few obscenities before the repulsive field activated.

    The air seemed to ripple with energy, distorting as the gravity fields repulsed everything around him. It sent the entire contents of the shabby room in every direction. The energy made the vampire hunter priest fling back into a wall, lodging his own mace into his brain.

    He was dead on impact with a squelch of blood and slid down the wall. The rest of the occupants didn''t fare any better. The impact flung Felix and his sister back into the wall. Both slammed into hard surfaces, with Joan being released from her bonds.

    The final vampire hunter also received the same treatment and met the wooden floorboards. Once the carnage had died down, Al stood there, dumbfounded at the destruction he had wrought.

    The protection spell had activated per its design. When the automatic defensive spells detected the hostile magic, they responded. The enchanted mace triggered this defensive measure that had slipped his mind. Slapping his forehead, he chastised himself for being so stupid.

    Turning to his accomplice, the vampiric boy, he showed an apologetic expression. People did not respond well to it. He ascended with a scowl, wincing in pain. The surviving vampire hunter attempted to get up, prompting Al to give him a little zap to keep him down.

    He attempted to offer the act as an additional apology. He wasn''t even looking and bounced to his sister''s aid, helping her get untangled from the demolished chair and twisted ropes.

    Trying to overlook the damage, with a thought, he quickly deactivated the sigil, placing it in a dormant state. Letting out a sigh of relief, he was no longer a ticking time bomb. He turned to greet his fellow travellers of life.

    When they noticed Felix helping his sister to her feet, they verbally bombarded him. "What in Durudin was that?!" Jo pointed an accusatory finger directly at him.

    Despite the ferocity, her finger was shaking unsteadily. He tried very hard not to respond sarcastically, it felt unnatural to do so. Instead, he kept his calm and glared back at her. "We rescued you if that wasn''t supremely obvious." He tried hard, and even calming himself didn''t hold back his desire to be a snarky asshole.

    He felt a slight tinge of regret and thought to say something else, but he pondered something. What is Durudin? The term was put in place of the word hell, at least by Earth''s standards. Quickly, he shook away these thoughts and instead turned his attention to the situation at hand.

    Jo was frowning, making way for a wide smile. "Whatever, that was some crazy magic!" She erupted in laughter. It was short-lived before she started to cough and keel over. "Everything went all over the place, with boom and woah." She painfully mimed the events, waving her hands around the room.

    Al couldn''t help it and let slip a smile. It was clear she was covering her nerves with humour. The tremor in her hands made it clear this was all pure adrenaline. Rising to her feet, she stepped forward, her brother behind her, concerned as a little brother could be.

    Reaching Al, she quickly met him face to face, her smile sinking into a thin line. "No matter how epic that was, don''t you dare do that again?" She spoke in a sharp monotone voice, with no anger or excitement.

    Al could see she was concealing her injuries, trying to act tough. He could only sigh, not concerned about that eventuality. Her smile instantly returned, and she waddled over to the groaning vampire hunter.

    It was the one still twitching from the lightning strike. The one that had beaten her. Standing over him, she kicked him in the groin repeatedly, each strike harder than the next. Both Felix and Al felt a slight constricting sensation in their lower regions and instinctually covered them.

    Jo hurled obscenities with each strike to his nether regions. Mentions of removing his little lower friend with a rusty kitchen knife and another about his pathetic skills in interrogation.

    Once she had her fill with gratuitous violence, she sighed and tried to straighten her messy hair. She heaved a heavy breath, trying to maintain her balance. In the end, she regained a respectable, semi-neat state. Passing by Al, Felix revealed an apologetic expression and nodded thankfully. Al responded in kind.

    "You two don''t go far. I''ll be out shortly." Jo shrugged off his words with a simple wave. Felix nodded meekly.

    Once he shut the door, he went to work inspecting the bodies. He identified that the two of them were still alive, although barely. The priest-looking guy was dead, the mace embedded in his face said so. One of them seemed to have died from electrocution.

    "Huh, I wonder how he died. It is a mystery." He mused to himself, completely neglecting his role in said murder.

    The other two were alive but unconscious. One passed out from the electrical attack. The other passed out from the pain of multiple kicks to his groin. Sighing, Al inspected the two corpses.

    One of them had some gold, and a dagger not even worth looting. It was clear the three of them were just hired muscle. The priest-looking guy seemed like the only shining warrior among them. He discarded looting those pathetic saps.

    Moving to the decked-out vampire hunter, he discovered a pouch of gold and silver. The pouch of gold and silver contained coins stamped with a crown on one side and three stars on the other. Taking the wealth that amounted to thirty silver and ten gold, he inspected the rest.

    He had a few artefacts, such as a glowing crystal that radiated heat, a pendant with a glowing stone embedded, and finally, the mace. An unfamiliar enchantment adorned the mace, resembling a fire-imbuing spell. The magic was odd. The fire within didn''t seem to burn Al and behaved differently from regular fire. His other possessions were average and not worth the effort of being stolen.

    "It''s likely he is just some flunky or perhaps this order of Pyrus is running low on soldiers, but high on funds to hire idiots in bulk." He chuckled and turned away from the corpse.

    Walking over to the last two survivors, he placed a hand on his chin, contemplative. His eyes glanced to the ceiling and the spark of an idea formed. Reaching into his soul storage, he withdrew several items.

    One was a small blue cooler, a lid on the top, held in place by a white handle. On the cooler, there was a picture of an iceberg with the words Cool Box written in large, bold letters. The others were six empty blood bags, the words St Gerald Hospital written on both. The next item was a long tube with a needle attached, used for blood collection.

    Sighing heavily, he looked over his instruments and mused to himself. "I had intended these for collecting samples from various species, but I suppose I can lend a few for a different cause." With his tools in hand, he went over to the passed-out fellows.

    Pulling up the man''s sleeve, Al placed two fingers on his arm, feeling for a vein. Once he found it, quickly he slid the needle into the skin and attached the bag. It filled slowly with blood, all the way until full.

    He repeated the process on both men, draining blood and placing them in the cooler. In the end, he had six blood bags stacked neatly inside. Smiling in satisfaction, he set the cooler aside and stood to observe the now gaunt figures. Nodding a few times.

    "I truly apologise chaps; it was most unfortunate for you to meet me. But alas, it happened, and we have reached the end of our acquaintance." Raising his palm, he activated the lightning rune and killed both of them with a quick zap to their brain stems.

    Their deaths were quick and clean, with no pain. Most couldn''t ask for more. With that settled, he left the shabby building, meeting both Felix and Jo outside.

    Jo was inspecting her brother like a fussing mother, checking for injuries. Still withholding her own pains like they were less important. She was even licking her finger and wiping away dirt from his face.

    Al recoiled at the sight; it made him remember his horrible mother who did the same thing. Turning to greet him, Jo eyed him suspiciously. Felix started sniffing the air.

    The entire street was empty, with barely any light beyond a few torches in the distance. Jo was about to speak, but Al cut her off.

    "We shouldn''t talk here; it would be best if we discussed our next move elsewhere." Directing the pair to follow him down the street. Jo narrowed her eyes but relented, acknowledging his supreme logic.

    The three left down the road, heading away from the slums to the inner city. After about an hour, they reached the inn. The same barkeep from before, who smiled at his appearance, greeted Al.

    "Welcome back and I see you have guests." The gruff barkeep stated with a friendly tone, gesturing to the pair.

    Al nodded a few times. "Yes, my good man, would it be too much trouble for a table with one ale, two waters and three soups?" He requested, scanning the room for an available table.

    Finding a few that had no patrons and were relatively out of the way. He pointed towards the table in the corner and the friendly barkeep nodded in affirmation. They seated themselves quickly and waited for their refreshments.

 Chapter 12 - Getting Drunk And Dodging Daggers.

    All three sat around the table, their faces filled with apprehension. None of them spoke; they just looked at each other, as if they were taking each other''s measure. Finally, someone spoke.

    "Well, that happened," Al spoke sarcastically.

    The first one to reply was not Joanna, but Felix. "So, what do we do now?" He asked.

    Felix waited for an answer, eyeing both of them. Neither spoke; instead, they cast looks at each other.

    "Master Felix has a point. A next step would be prudent." He spoke in a faux English accent.

    Joanna did not find it amusing. She scowled, her expression going sour. She glared, and his smile refused to vanish. "Yes, my little brother has a point. What is the next step?" She said, overemphasising the word little and then eyeing him mischievously.

    Al snorted, and then his thoughts matured. She was quite odd, on one hand serious, another mischievous.

    Silence descended, broken a second later. "Well, I plan to head north, got a gig with some mercs to explore some ruin." He explained, and both of them frowned in thought. "As for you two, well, I would be lying if I said I had no interest in your brother." He confessed, raising the tension and her metaphorical guard.

    Her eyes narrowed to slits, she leaned back in her chair. Scowling daggers at the potential threat. Clenching her fists, she rested them on the wooden table, her threat.

    "What do you want with my brother?" Her voice was menacing.

    Leaning forward to get a good look at her foe, she attempted to appear larger than she was. With the two at a stand-off, Felix sighed.

    "What my sister should say is thank you for helping us. But what do you plan to do with me?" Both shifted to him, eyeing the boy.

    Felix simply waited for a reply from either of them. Joanna blinked rapidly, unable to get a word out. Al shrugged, not really having a solid plan.

    "Very astute, my boy, but what I want is to learn more about your people, if you are indeed an Upire." Name-dropping. The siblings looked confused. Felix was less so since he had heard it mentioned before.

    Al stared, comprehending their lack of knowledge. "You don''t know, neither of you knows, well that complicates things." Pausing in the middle of his sentence, he leaned back in his chair. "Well then, no matter. I suppose we can figure it out along the way." Gesturing with beleaguered acceptance, he threw the proverbial ball into their court.

    Instead of Joanna taking up the racket to play. Felix chimed in. "I don''t know what I am. I was born this way. But if you know something, I think we should stick with you." He declared firmly, resolute in his words.

    They eyed each other for a time, their gazes locked in mental conflict. Joanna relented, agreeing with an affirmative shrug, just as their food and drinks arrived.

    Once he put them down, she reached for the alcohol. Before she could lay a hand on her prize, Al interceded, pulling it away with telekinetic force. With her drink seized by an enemy, she glowered at him. "Hey!" She spat like an irate teenager yelling at her estranged father.

    Al''s eyes narrowed as if he was judging her. "How old are you?" He inquired, knowing they were barely twenty-one.

    Their height, complexion and general immaturity, he came up with a potential age for each of them. If he was correct, he would down the mug before either could try.

    She huffed, wearing her immaturity on her sleeve. Felix cut in, interceding to prevent another argument. "I''m fifteen and she''s seventeen." Pointing to himself and then to his sister.

    Nodding, Al smiled and used his powers to swap the ale for water, bringing the alcohol to his side of the table. Capturing every drop, tempting her to oppose his totalitarian rule of the table.

    Her face burned bright red. "What''s your problem!?" she huffed in annoyance.

    "Let me guess, your people have different age limits on alcohol consumption, well consider this a cultural exchange with my people." He gripped the mug and began chugging the contents.

    Once finished, he released an intake of breath, forcing down a burp. Smug, he withdrew his garlic powder and plopped the leather pouch on the table.

    "This should liven up your food. Consider it my apology." He handed over the seasoning and stood up. "Now it''s time for me to get drunk and you can think of your next move."

    Rising from his seat, he raised a mug and announced. Rising from his seat, he raised a mug and announced, "I''ll treat everyone to the next round, courtesy of a holy man!"

    The barkeep approached cautiously, his next words silenced by a pouch of gold coins sprawling across the table. Both smiled and were ready for the night''s festivities to begin.

    Time passed, and Al swiftly left the two to eat in relative peace. Granting them a few glances to check on them. Joanna was dressing the soup with wide eyes. Felix barely touched his food and sat brooding.

    Pulling away from the depressing sight, he approached a few mercs for some light conversation and drinking. The group happily accepted the guest.

    They talked for a time, each of their mugs filled at the very moment they emptied. Getting tipsier and tipsier as the conversation went on.

    "We live in crazy times, don''t we Al?" A short man with blonde hair, blue eyes and a clean-shaven face spoke.

    He appeared to be a ranger, with his bow secured on his back and a quiver tied to his belt. He directed his question towards Alistair, who introduced himself as Al, a wizard living the mercenary life.

    Al nodded, clearly inebriated. "Yes, indeed, Orel, I''m new to the capital, but damn. Heroes summoned from another world, that is crazy!" He slurred, waving his hands in the air.

    Al acted like a madman barely in control of his limbs. The entire group laughed, save for one, who scowled in the background.

    He was a stern-looking fellow. With a thick beard, he seemed to be in his forties. He spoke with a heavy accent, over pronouncing his words as if they were unfamiliar.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Al thought that the basic translation enchantment built into the summoning spell was working overtime.

    "That''s the Heroic Trinity you are talking about boy, show some respect!" His deep voice reverberated. He took another swig of ale and glared at the group, irritated.

    All participants lowered their gaze, pretending to inspect their mugs. Al noticed that the situation may have turned sour and turned his gaze to Rothgor.

    "I don''t mean any disrespect, these heroes are just too grand for a lowly wizard like me." He feigned meekness, trying to placate the angry man.

    Not just from the booze, but from a fury boiling inside. His face flushed. Metaphorical sparks flew between them before Orel spoke, attempting to defuse the tension.

    "Come on Rothgor, the lad meant no disrespect, come on, raise our mugs to the trinity!" Injecting a little joy into the group, Orel diffused the situation and everyone followed suit.

    The group of five strangers bellowed in a jolly tone. "To the trinity, the keepers of peace!" Clanking their mugs together, the precious alcohol sloshed around.

    All five chugged their ales as if it were a race. Orel, of course, won that match. Letting out a few burps, the group went back to the jovial atmosphere right until Rothgor spoke again.

    "May the trinity crush the Federation and their mutant dogs!" His racist proclamation only got a few muted thrums of cheering before he finished his ale entirely.

    Orel, now visibly concerned, tried to change the subject. "Let''s get off this topic lads, how about a song?" Offering an idea of jolly singing, he inspected the area, only to frown in annoyance.

    "Were in the spirits, is that bard?" Looking around, he gave up before grabbing another ale from the ever-growing pile.

    Rothgor visibly smiled. "That pasty boy went upstairs with one barmaid. I bet he is giving her a right good plough." Everybody chuckled, with Al joining in for pleasantries'' sake.

    Sending his gaze to the siblings for a moment, spying the two chatting away in the corner.

    "Any of you lads got any singers amongst you, not you Rothgor. I would rather tear my ears off before listening to any of that northern shit." Orel turned to Rothgor with a scowl, just catching him before the smug northerner spoke.

    Getting no replies, Al being too drunk to sing any of his greatest hits. Rothgor grinned, knowing he was the last man standing. The smug northerner began singing in a deep and robust voice.

    The song reminded Al of old Viking tunes that just made you want to fight for the glory of Odin. It was sombre and yet not as bad as Orel made it out to be.

    The song was rough and Rothgor''s accent was like nails on a chalkboard, but the music flowed well. It spun a tale of a dying warrior making his way home. The tale would have been a decent B-grade movie.

    A steady beat accompanied the tale him spun, everyone getting in on it. They beat tables like they were drums, the drums of Valhalla. The song ended on a bitter-sweet note. He died before he could reach his family, but fell to his knees on the soil of his home.

    The group cheered and clapped as if Rothgor was a tried and tested bard. Orel shook his head. Clearly, he didn''t understand why everyone liked the music. Probably because they were all shitface drunk.

    After having their fun, the group devolved into further inebriated ideas. Another recent member of the group named Risa chimed in. Equally wasted, she appeared to be in her early thirties with short brown hair and a fringe at the front.

    Wearing attire similar to a rogue straight out of the fantasy genre. She securely strapped many daggers to the front of her bandolier. Broaching the group with a wild idea to test Al¡¯s skill with telekinesis.

    One thing led to another and Al was trying to remain upright against the wall, while Risa prepared to throw a dagger at him.

    Slapping his face a few times, Al prepared the sigil on his left hand. The spider web tattoo glowed just before the first dagger took flight. Quick as though it stopped in mid-air, a few feet from him.

    Tweaking his head to the side, it fell to the floor with a soft clatter. The inn erupted into cheers. Each patron drank heartily, and some took bets.

    As he prepared the next dagger, Joanna''s voice rang in his ear. "What in Durudin are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" She spoke indignantly.

    While she waited for a response, Al quickly raised his palm, stopping another dagger. "You sneaky bitch, you almost got me." Risa shrugged, not taking any of this seriously. While she reached for another dagger, Al replied. "Ok, I know this is not smart, but I''m drunk, so smart went out the window." Chuckling like a schoolgirl, he swiftly froze another dagger. This one almost reached his eye. The blade lingered before clattering to the ground.

    Now thoroughly annoyed, Joanna moved to the side, grabbed a free mug of ale, and began chugging it. Al shook his head at the underage drinking, flicked his wrist, and captured the tankard.

    Pulling it out of her grasp to float before her. With his attention diverted, Risa dropped her arms to the side, not intending to let another dagger loose.

    The tankard soared across the room, landing easily in his grasp. With his pilfered ale, he chugged the beverage with a smug expression of victory. Joanna replied by sticking out her tongue and fleeing with another tankard of plundered ale.

    Al was about to object and heard another familiar voice. "Hey Al, we''re back." Turning around to see James and Sally entering the inn, both looking ragged from travel.

    They approached him, smiling, before being stopped by Risa. "Hey you guys can wait your turn; he still has three daggers to go before the record." She glared at the interlopers, dagger spinning in her hand with practised movements. They both quickly got the hint and went off to find a table.

 Chapter 13 - Heroism And Realism

    Meanwhile, deep in the imperial palace''s throne room, the three heroes gasped and shuttered. Once their patron placed the blessing, each of them endured immense pain.

    The experience lasted only for a moment, but it was enough to bring all three to their knees. Gasping with strained breaths, they slowly ascended to their feet, to the emperor''s joy.

    Regious inspected the trinity, eventually falling back into comfort at their renewed vigour. Once the heroes had risen, each of them inspected their bodies for any changes.

    They felt over their arms and torsos, frowning all the while. As they continued their inspection, the emperor patiently waited.

    Jasmine was the first to complete and immediately turned to the throne. "What now?" She asked sternly, halfway between a request and an expectation.

    Regious didn''t react and instead cleared his throat, adjusted his position and then spoke, this time in a more casual tone. "Alright, heroes, I will level with you." The formerly regal emperor ascended from his throne, walking casually over. "Everything I said before you can ignore, mostly, it was all for show for the nobility." Stating matter-of-factly, he shrugged.

    The three stood dumbfounded. "I don''t understand. Are you trying to tell us that was all acting?" Jasmine asked, curious to see where this was going.

    The emperor sighed, helplessly. "Unfortunately, yes." He crossed their path and moved to the side. "If you feel up for it, walk with me?"

    The three assessed themselves and agreed to follow. A group of the emperor, three earthling heroes, several guards, and two robed men left the room.

    Once entering the corridor, they took a left, leading to an opulent hallway adorned with gold and red. Spaced evenly were several portraits of past monarchs, painted in regal finery.

    Regious turned to the heroes. "The situation is far more complicated than a simple demonic threat." He spoke with weariness, as if the words weighed heavier than expected.

    Before the emperor could continue, Peter rudely interjected. "What do you mean? This isn''t a whole fight the demon king type deal?" Rattling out two abrupt questions, he remained oblivious to the fact that he interrupted royalty.

    The guards frowned, prompting Regious to calm them. Returning to meet the young man''s gaze, he answered. "No, it is not. There hasn''t been a king of demons for over five hundred years, not since the rift in the lower planes was closed." Looking at the ceiling, he recalled memories from the long past.

    The emperor looked wistful and sombre. It was as if he could see the past between the lines of the decorative ceiling carved centuries ago.

    Peter and Lucy both look confused, but Jasmine remains unfazed. They all continued down the hallway until Regious stopped at a portrait. The painting depicted was in bright pastel colours, the visage of a beautiful dark-skinned woman.

    She appeared to be in her early twenties; she wore a long flowing red gown and a crown neatly placed on her head. Her face was without blemish, except for a mole on her left cheek. She had lustrous red hair and smiled brightly.

    Regious gazed at the portrait longingly, his eyes turning cloudy. Quickly, he shook his head and turned to the heroes. "Who is she?" Jasmine asked softly, as if she noticed the man''s inner turmoil.

    The emperor''s shoulders slumped, reaching out to caress the image as if he could somehow bring her to life. Alas, he retracted and turned back to the three.

    "Her name was Samara, and she was my wife." He visibly slumped, and his entire presence seemed to dim. Still, he clenched his fist and held his head up high. "Over a year ago, federation extremists assassinated her," he said. "No, that''s not accurate. The assassin claimed to be of the federation, but he was not. He was of the Legion, part of the new pro Demi-human movement."

    Regious noticed their confusion and quickly collected himself. Looking back at the portrait, he lingered for a moment before continuing. "Your summoning was to prevent a war between my nation and there''s. Since neither of us has any desire for a war at all." The moment he uttered those words, all three heroes stopped in their tracks.

    Peter was the first to speak, his face keenly interested. "If you all want peace, then why aren''t you guys just going after the Legion or whatever they are called?" Asking the obvious question with a certain naivety.

    "A fine question, lad. In truth, many of our citizens don''t see a difference between these extremists and federation citizens." Sighing, he looked down at his fine robes, brushing his fingers down the gold filigree. "As the situation gets worse, more Demi-humans will join their cause and soon we will have no choice but to respond."

    Still slightly confused, Peter spoke again. "But if both of you guys are on the same page, can''t you just tell your people to stop fighting?"

    Regious and Jasmine both chucked almost instantaneously. The two exchanged a look. "Because, my dear boy, a nation is not its rulers." Regious looked poignantly at Peter like a teacher to a student.

    Before he could finish, Jasmine completed his sentence. Jasmine completed his sentence before he could finish, saying, "A nation is its people, and I''m guessing your people are not as unified?"

    The emperor nodded. "You are correct, my dear. The empire has many parts, just like the federation. They are not all are on the same parchment." He explained.

    The group lingered in silence. No one spoke, not even a whisper. "This is all pretty complicated. What exactly do you want us to do?" Peter asked with reckless abandon, not even considering or noticing the complete annoyance on every imperial guard.

    The emperor raised a hand, and the guards stood to attention. Their muscles seemed to tighten, and their faces were stern, without a shred of emotion.

    The emperor coughed to get the attention of all. With all their gazes set upon him, he unveiled his intentions. "Well, first you three need to learn." His eyes glowed with a mischievous air, accompanied by a wide smug smile. With the confused attention of the heroes, the emperor gestured.

    "Master Scholar Davos, please come here." Gazing past the heroes towards the robed men. "Master Spiritus Rita, please come as well." Prompted by his imperial majesty, the two-robed figures approached.

    Appearing just to the emperor''s side, they both lowered their hoods, revealing themselves. An elderly man in his sixties was on the left, closest to the emperor. His face held the years he had lived with every crease and wrinkle. Wearing a simple grey robe with the insignia of a book and quill on the left breast. The elderly man appeared to be a stereotypical old wise man.

    Rita was young and elegant, looking to be around her early thirties. Her dark auburn hair was short and neatly tied up in a bun. The smile adorned her pale and unblemished face and denoted a joyful and carefree appearance.

    With both masters standing before them, Davos spoke up first. "Now, young heroes, I will be your teacher," he said, nodding his head to each of them as if they were already his students. "I will be your guide in all things history, culture, religion, politics and your place in it." Stating with a flourish of his wrists. He listed various subjects.

    The three heroes immediately reacted differently from each other. Jasmine''s eyes perk up in interest, while Peter and Lucy show dejected expressions at the thought of returning to school. Before Davos could speak, to further extol the virtues of his class, Rita cut in.

    "While this geezer will teach you such important knowledge, I will be your instructor in magic and the spirits." Adding a little sarcasm to her voice and sliding her gaze to Davos, Rita smiled.

    In a flash, the three heroes found themselves seated evenly in what they could identify as a classroom. However, the environment was much more primitive than what either of them was used to. Indeed, it was a classroom, a place where young minds learn. They all occupied wooden chairs with small desks in front of them. Jasmine was on the right, Peter in the middle, and Lucy on the left. The room was bland, as if the designer went for functionality over gaudiness. In front of them was a black chalkboard with several notes of writing here and there.

    Standing before them was the scholar Davos, the imperial master scholar, as he liked to call himself. Davos was writing a few lines on the board, outlining a brief introduction to imperial history. Droning on and on caused two of the heroes to zone out, with only Jasmine paying attention. After some time, Jasmine raised her hand. She moved swiftly, almost elegantly, as if that was a practised motion. She stood up straight, not even a trace of a slouch in her posture.

    "Master Scholar, may I ask a question?" She asked with an even tone and narrowed eyes.

    Davos turned his gaze to her, his face alight with intrigue and a faint trace of surprise. "Of course, my dear, you may." Tripping over his words, he finally gets out his response with a smile adorning his wrinkled face.

    Nodding her head a few times, Jasmine collects herself and then speaks clearly. "I would like to ask why the vassal kingdoms could keep their crowns after the unification wars?" Gesturing with her right hand bobbing up and down to convey her point.

    Scholar Davos nodded a few times, as if this was a surprising yet apt question. Straightening his imperial robe, he spoke in reply. "A good question my dear, the answer is simple, the first emperor, may he prosper in the realm of spirits, had no blood claim to the throne of humanity." Volunteering this information without hesitation, he continued.

    "He was a minor knight of Sylvan, a history he never concealed from the scholars of ages. His right to rule was primarily a decree by the spirits." Turning back to his board, he started writing again. He arranged the words Sylvan, Helgos, and Tarkon around the word Judica.

    All three heroes tilt their heads, with Peter and Lucy leaving their state of daydreaming. Davos turned around to face his students, pointed at the word Sylvan, and started speaking. "The Kingdom of Sylvan is the birthplace of our glorious founding emperor; he was a knight of the Judica house, minor nobility, and gained his title through the strength of arms." Stopping for an abrupt break to survey his students, he smiled at their rapt attention.

    Suddenly Peter spoke up, absent of any hands raised. "So, he was some badass knight that conquered the kingdoms... awesome." Nodding his head a few times, Peter smiled widely before thrusting his palm forward to move a cup of water with his mind.

    Both Jasmine and Lucy looked at the immature boy with disappointment. Jasmine returned her gaze to Davos, while Lucy secretly threw a gaze at the flickering candle on the wall. She futilely tried to control the fire with her mind out of everyone''s sight.

    While the two were trying to utilise their magic superpowers, Davos cleared his throat and continued his lesson. "Though I do not know what the term badass represents, you are correct, though conquering all the kingdoms is a tad inaccurate." Turning back to his board, he points to the word Sylvan.

    "The Kingdom of Sylvan lies in the west. It is an island kingdom, distributed across several island colonies." Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, he continued. "Sylvan is rich in sea-born trade and is the first kingdom to be graced patronage by the spirit goddess herself, Lady Aquara. Granting her blessing and sending her children to aid sailors who follow her faith." Pausing for a moment, he turns to his students.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "The induction of the spirit faith into Sylvanian society eventually leads to a civil war between the faith and the crown." Leaving his words on that last note, he allowed for questions.

    Peter was the first to speak up. "Aww sweet, you mean Aquara, the spirit that blesses me with her awesome powers. Is the head of some sort of seafaring religion?" Asking excitedly. His smile widens with an expectant face. Davos then nods a little apprehensively, affirming the young man''s question.

    "That is so cool!" He exclaimed even more excitedly before he reaffirmed his efforts to water bend.

    While the immature Peter continues to try various poses to make the water move. Lucy spoke up with a meek tone. "So, they fought over religion?" She asks with a voice almost akin to a whisper, before lowering her gaze when receiving a reaction.

    Davos nodded a few times, turning his gaze to Lucy with a sincere smile. "In a sense, yes, the spread of the spirit faith threatened the monarchy''s control over the kingdom. Several island colonies rebelled in small ways against the anti-religious sentiment of the reigning king." Turning back to the board, he continues his explanation.

    "In the end, a civil war broke out between the faithful and the monarch loyalists. The monarchy fell after a decisive battle in the capital city and the king was executed for his many crimes." Drawing his chalk to the board, he wrote a name with a deft hand.

    "Sir Willhelm Judica led the faith militant to seize the throne and the remaining royal family. Granted the title of Lord Regent, he ruled the Kingdom of Sylvan in place of the last royal heir, Princess Elisa, five years old." Waving his chalk at Peter and Lucy, who had once more let their attention drift, Davos continued.

    "Lord Regent Wilhelm''s son set off on a holy pilgrimage to the mainland of Hestia and founded the holy city of Judica." Ending his explanation there, Davos paused for a moment, his face exuding satisfaction and expectation.

    Peter and Lucy just sat there frowning while Jasmine''s face frowned in contemplation. After a few moments, Jasmine raised her hand. Receiving a nod from Davos, she spoke. "So, from there, the Lord Regent expanded the spirit faith to Helgos and Tarkon, unifying them into the current empire?" She asked, expecting her words to be validated.

    Davos nodded approvingly before speaking. "Indeed, Wilhelm united the human kingdoms into one empire. The northern Helgosians resisted. For a time, their wizardry was antitheses to the spirit faith, and the newly discovered spiritus art." Turning his gaze back to the board, he shifted over to the words Helgos and Tarkon.

    "The Kingdom of Tarkon was embroiled in a bitter conflict with the Lankosian clans. Leaving their western border open for Helgosian attack, this war was resolved when the faith militant aided Tarkon with substantial reinforcements." Leaving that last statement hanging there, he eyed each of his students.

    All three showed mild interest, except for Jasmine, who revealed eyes filled with keen interest. "I see, so that means assisting the Kingdom of Tarkon with the Lankosians. You could secure them as an ally in the conquest of Helgos." Placing her slender fingers on her chin, she caressed her skin carefully, her eyes brimming with contemplation.

    Davos smiles widely, the picture of a delighted teacher graced by a student with intellect. Nodding a few times excitedly, he speaks up happily. "Indeed, my dear, that is correct. Assisting the Tarkonian dynasty with foreign threats, the regent could secure them as allies. Once the mainland was secure, they began the siege of Helgos. The kingdom endured bitterly from the attack on both sides. In the end, they capitulated and became a vassal state under the newly established Empire of Judica." Circling the word Judica, he turned back to his students to gauge their reactions.

    They remained quiet; each contemplating various topics as depicted by their frowned expressions. "Then why did the new empire allow the vassal kingdoms to keep their dynasties?" Jasmine asked quickly after some time pondering.

    "A good question, my dear. It was the emperor''s intention to preserve the culture of humanity. By allowing the vassal kingdoms to keep their rule in part, humanity could remain diverse." Davos explained with a slight twitch of his left eye.

    Noting this, Jasmine spoke up. "Do you not agree with the first emperor''s decision?" She asked with her head tilted to the side.

    Shrugging his shoulders in a manner strange to his advanced age, Davos replied half-heartedly. "The emperor''s will be the will of the spirits, yet allowing the vassals to keep their crowns had led to discontent over the years. The Helgosian Wizard revolt and subsequent migration across the northern pass and don''t get me started on the impudent Tarkonian king." Speaking with greater passion than he once had, his tone got heated, before simmering with calm.

    Coughing a few times to clear his throat, he started again. "We are getting off-topic, I am sorry students, we shall turn to the Federation of Demonus." Stating firmly, Davos erased the board with a dirty rag and began writing unfamiliar words. With chalk in hand, he wrote the United Realms of Lankos in large letters.

    "Now the Lankosians are a major faction in the federation and the first race humanity met." Gesturing with his chalk, he pointed at the board while assessing the faces of his students.

    His expression shifted in annoyance at the utter indifference of the two of his students. Stepping forward, he slammed his fist onto Peter''s table, causing the wood to shake under his pressure. Out of reflex, the young Peter sat up straight. Years of high school had conditioned him to react this way. Davos glared down at him before peering over to Lucy, who equally sat up straight. Satisfied, he returned to his board and continued his lesson.

    Writing a few more words spaced equally below, he explained each one. "The Realm of Lankos is composed of various Lankosian city-states. From our historical records, the Lankosians were a savage race of bipedal beasts, segregated into many tribes." Speaking as he wrote, he shuffled to the side with every word written across the board.

    "Over the cause of seven hundred years, the tribes of old ceased fighting one another and united, forming the city-state union there is today." Returning his gaze back to his students, observant faces happily greeted him.

    Emboldened by his student''s attention, he continued. "The first and oldest of the city-states is Teskamir. It is reported in the historical archives that the entire city began as a trading camp. All merchants were welcome to set up shop and sell their wares." Placing his finger on the board, he shifted to the next one.

    "The City of Kormath is another and was founded by Lankosian warlords fleeing the failed invasion of Nemora. They ruled for a time before they were quickly overthrown by their own soldiers. Kormath has then established a sovereign state, completely pulling out of the war with Tarkon." Shifting to the next word.

    "And finally, the Chiefdom of Baru, considered being the centre of political and military power. Baru is a collection of Lankosian tribes united under the High Chief. The tribes of Baru were the main military force in the century-long conflict with Tarkon. They maintain peace and order within the realms and have limited imperial expansion of decades." Ending his explanation, he hurries over to his desk. Opening a drawer, he pulls forth a large rolled-up piece of parchment.

    Walking back over to face his three students, he layers the parchment across their seats. His action prompted Peter to grab the cup of water quickly, saving it from potentially falling to the floor. Unravelling it reveals it to be a map detailing a massive continent. Below the continent is the name Hestia written in cursive. The rest of the map denotes a large continent with three smaller islands to the west.

    Placing his finger on the western region, he points out the locations of Sylvan, Helgos, Judica and Tarkon. Sylvan encompassed the western islands and western shore of Hestia. Helgos was in the northwestern mountain range. The holy city of Judica was in the centre, while the vast plains of Tarkon existed to the east.

    "Here is the domain of humanity, the Holy Empire of Judica." Shifting his finger further east, he outlines the Federation of Demonus and its member states. "The United Realms of Lankos." His index finger maneuvered to the southern region of the map, identifying three cities encompassing the Lankosian realm.

    All three nod, with Peter muttering something to himself. "Sweet getting some lore. This is so epic." He mutters just under his breath, gaining no one''s attention except for Lucy, who smiles shyly.

    Davos continued with his explanation. "Continuing to the south-west, we have the Republic of Solaris. Not much is known about them, except for minor rumours from traders that reach that far south. From what we can gather, they are strange creatures, deeply religious, and worship the sun." This caused Peter to chuckle, prompting all eyes to focus on him.

    Finding their gazes a tad oppressive, he speaks up in reply, albeit in a meek tone. "They must be gamers, probably hardcore Shadow Vitalis players, big sun-worshippers they were." His comment elicited stunned silence as those around him stared at him confusedly.

    Jasmine glared at him with annoyance on her face. Lucy turned back to her candle, attempting once more to control it with her mind. Davos showed mild surprise and interest before speaking. "So, there are similar religions in your world?" He asked, curiosity beaming on his face.

    Deciding to cut this short, Jasmine cut in. "Don''t listen to him. He is talking about a game. Please continue." She stated with a harsh glare at Peter, who shrank back like a disciplined puppy.

    Thoroughly confused, Davos shrugged before continuing. "Well then, if we go north, we have the domains of the wizards and mages. The Wizard State of Ikarus and the Magara Council of Mages. Both are populated by citizens that practise magic and are loosely aligned with the Federation." Glossing over them, he hurried to the central region and pointed at a map marker.

    "This is the capital of the federation, the city of Demonus. Once the seat of power for the demons of old, it is now the political base of the federation." Gesturing to the map marker, he outlines the entire territory of the federation in a wide circle encompassing the entire eastern region.

    "It is known that veritable demons still rule there in a limited capacity as both peace keepers and diplomats of the federation. This information was, of course, not well received by the empire''s populace, with many believing it to be rumours or blatant lies." Adding to that comment at the end of his statement, he stepped back to assess his students'' reactions.

    All three remained as they were, showing remarkably different reactions. Jasmine remained thoughtful; Peter showed an excited face while Lucy still stared intensely at the candle. Time flowed by as no one spoke until suddenly the candle on the left side wall erupted into a raging fire. The room soon fell into chaos as Davos stepped back, letting out a high-pitched scream. Lucy rose from her chair with a fearful expression, slowly stepping back while muttering to herself in a panic.

    Peter, noticing the fire, pulled himself out of his own thoughts and acted on reflex. With a thought fuelled by a human''s base fear of fire, he directed the cupped water to rise from its container. The water condensed into a spherical ball and propelled against the open flame. Splattering against it, the water cooled swiftly, freezing the flame with an aura of absolute zero.

    With the immediate threat dealt with, Jasmine rose to her feet, anger sprawled across her face. Before she could yell her fury, she heard the wood creaking. Looking down, she saw her hands gripping the desk. Her palms cracked and indented the wood, ready to fracture at any moment. Despite her hands gripping sharp wooden shards, she barely felt anything as if the wood wasn''t even penetrating the skin.

    With his students now in various states of shock, Davos spoke a single sentence. "Today''s lesson should be sufficient for the students," Davos said. The only sound left was the dripping of water, descending from the frozen candle.

 Chapter 14 - Class Is In Session

    The three heroes sat evenly, feeling their backs ache against the uncomfortable chairs. The room filled each of them with a sense of familiarity; it was akin to the classrooms the Trinity had frequented. A place of learning where teachers shaped young minds to prepare for the future.

    Jasmine sat on the right, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Peter sat in the middle, his fingers drumming nervously on his desk. Lucy looked around warily, concern etched on her face. The room was bland. The designers went for functionality over gaudiness. In front of them was a black chalkboard with several notes of writing here and there.

    Standing before them was scholar Davos, the self-proclaimed imperial Master Scholar. His presence was commanding and stern, despite his dull delivery. He wrote a few lines on the board, meticulously outlining a brief introduction to imperial history. Droning on, the scratching of chalk accompanied his voice, adding to the monotony.

    "Master Scholar, may I ask a question?" Jasmine interrupted.

    Davos turned to her, and a spark of intrigue glinted in his eyes. "Of course, my dear, you may," He stammered, tripping over his words until he found his verbal footing.

    Nodding a few times, Jasmine collected herself. "I would like to ask why the vassal kingdoms could keep their crowns after the unification wars?" Gesturing with her right hand bobbing up and down, her passion for the topic was clear.

    Davos nodded a few times, surprised at the astuteness of someone so young. He was thrilled, passion welling up inside. To find a young student with a passion for history was something he craved. Straightening his imperial robe, he collected himself.

    "A good question my dear, the answer is simple, the first emperor, may he prosper in the realm of spirits, had no blood claim to the throne of humanity." Volunteering this information without hesitation, his voice was steady and learned.

    "He was a minor knight of Sylvan origin, a history he never concealed from the scholars of ages. His right to rule was primarily a decree by the noble spirits." Turning back to his board, he started writing again. He arranged the words Sylvan, Helgos, and Tarkon around the word Judica.

    All three heroes tilted their heads at the mention of Sylvan breaking Peter and Lucy out of their daydreaming. Davos turned around to face his students and pointed at the word Sylvan with a sense of pride. "The Kingdom of Sylvan is the birthplace of our glorious founding emperor; he was a knight of the Judica house, minor nobility, and gained his title through the strength of arms and his steadfast devotion to the spirits." He paused for a moment and scanned the room, gauging their interest.

    Peter raised his hand. "So, he was some badass knight that conquered the kingdoms." The young man nodded enthusiastically, embracing the image of a powerful hero carving out his kingdom.

    The two girls looked at the immature boy with disappointment. Jasmine quickly returned her attention to the lesson. However, a flickering candle drew Lucy''s attention. Out of everyone''s sight, she tried to control the fire with her mind.

    As the young girl continued her attempt to harness her magic, Davos cleared his throat and continued his lesson. "Though I do not know what the term badass represents, you are correct, though conquering all the kingdoms is a tad inaccurate."

    Turning back to the board, he pointed to Sylvan with renewed enthusiasm. "The Kingdom of Sylvan lies to the west. It is a kingdom, distributed across several island colonies." Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, he continued.

    "Sylvan is rich in sea-born trade and is the first kingdom to be graced patronage by the spirit goddess herself, Lady Aquara. Granting her blessing and sending her children to aid sailors who follow her faith." Pausing for a moment, he turns to his students, allowing the weight of his words to fall upon them. "The induction of the spirit faith into Sylvanian society eventually led to a civil war between the faith and the crown." Leaving his words on that last note, he paused for questions.

    Peter was the first to speak, his excitement bubbling over. "Sweet, you mean Aquara, the spirit that blesses me with her awesome powers, is the head of some sort of seafaring religion?" His smile widened, unable to contain himself. He grinned like a child. Davos nodded a little apprehensive. "That is so cool!" The idea thrilled him. His mind shifted to images of raising giant tidal waves and fighting sea monsters.

    "So, they fought over religion?" Lucy asked.

    Davos nodded, turning to the young student with a sad smile. History was his passion, but sadly he had to accept much of it was brutal. Yet despite these tragedies, the thought of the spirits guiding him renewed his faith.

    "In a sense, yes, the spread of the spirit faith threatened the monarchy''s control over the kingdom. Several island colonies rebelled in small ways against the anti-religious sentiment of the reigning king." Turning back to the board, he continues his explanation.

    "In the end, a civil war broke out between the faithful and the monarch loyalists. The monarchy fell after a decisive battle in the capital city and the king was executed for his many crimes." Drawing his chalk to the board, he wrote a name with a deft hand.

    "Sir Willhelm Judica, lead the faith militant to seize the throne and the remaining royal family. Granted the title of Lord Regent, he ruled the Kingdom of Sylvan in place of the last royal heir, Princess Elisa five years old."

    Davos continued. "Lord Regent Wilhelm''s son set off on a holy pilgrimage to the mainland of Hestia and founded the holy city of Judica." He ended his explanation, letting the weight of his words settle upon them.

    Peter and Lucy sat frowning, and Jasmine''s face twisted into contemplation. After a few moments of thought, she raised her hand.

    "So, from there, Lord Regent Wilhelm expanded the faith to Helgos and Tarkon, unifying them into the current empire?" She inquired.

    "Indeed, Wilhelm united the human kingdoms into one empire. The northern Helgosians resisted for a time. Their wizardry was antitheses to the spirit faith, and the newly discovered spiritus art."

    He shifted over to the words Helgos and Tarkon. "The Kingdom of Tarkon was embroiled in a bitter conflict with the Lankosian clans. Leaving their western border open for Helgosian attack, this war was resolved when the faith militant aided Tarkon with substantial reinforcements." Leaving that statement hanging, he eyed each, gauging their reactions to the intricate web of alliances and conflicts.

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    The two showed mild interest, except for Jasmine, her eyes narrowed in keen interest. "I see, so that means by assisting the Kingdom of Tarkon with the Lankosians. You could secure them as an ally in the conquest of Helgos." Placing her slender fingers on her chin, she contemplated.

    A wide grin stretched across the teacher''s face. The teacher had a wide grin on his face and delightedly engaged in the back and forth. "Indeed, my dear, that is correct. By assisting the Tarkonian dynasty with foreign threats, the regent secured them as allies."

    "The kingdom endured bitterly from the attack on both sides. In the end, they capitulated, becoming a vassal state under the newly established empire." Circling the word Judica, he turned back to his students to gauge their reactions.

    They remained quiet; each contemplating various topics. "Then why did the new Empire allow the vassal kingdoms to keep their dynasties?" Jasmine asked.

    "A good question, my dear. It was the emperor''s intention to preserve the culture of humanity. By allowing the vassal kingdoms to keep their rule in part, humanity could remain diverse." Davos explained with a slight twitch of his eye.

    "Do you not agree with the first emperor''s decision?" She wondered aloud.

    Shrugging his shoulders in a manner unusual for his advanced age, he replied half-heartedly. "The emperor''s will, be the will of the spirits. Yet allowing the vassals to keep their crowns has led to discontent over the years. The Helgosian Wizard revolt and subsequent migration across the northern pass. Don''t get me started on the Tarkonian king." As he spoke, his tone grew more passionate.

    "We are getting off-topic, I am sorry students. We shall turn to the Federation of Demonus." Davos stated firmly, wiping away the letters with a rag and replacing them. "Now the Lankosians are a major faction in the federation and the first race humanity met." Gesturing to the board, he assessed his student''s attention.

    Clenching his jaw and inhaling a calming breath, he approached the ignorant student and slammed his fist onto Peter''s table. Out of reflex, the boy sat up straight. Years of high school had conditioned him to react this way. Davos glared down at him, peering over to Lucy who equally sat up straight. Satisfied, he returned to his board and continued.

    "The Realm of Lankos is composed of various Lankosian city-states. From our historical records, the Lankosians were a savage race of bipedal beasts, segregated into many tribes." Speaking as he wrote, he shuffled to the side. "Over the cause of seven hundred years, the tribes of old ceased fighting one another and united, forming the city-state union there is today."

    Emboldened by his student''s attention, he continued. "The first and oldest of the city-states is Teskamir. It is reported in the historical archives that the entire city began as a trading camp. All merchants were welcome to set up shop and sell their wares." Placing his finger on the board, he shifted to the next one.

    "The City of Kormath is another and was founded by Lankosian warlords fleeing the failed invasion of Nemora. They ruled for a time before their own soldiers quickly overthrew them. Kormath has then established a sovereign state, completely pulling out of the war with Tarkon." Shifting to the next word.

    "And finally, the Chiefdom of Baru, considered being the centre of political and military power. Baru is a collection of Lankosian tribes united under the High Chief. The tribes of Baru were the main military force in the century-long conflict with Tarkon. They maintain peace and order within the realms and have limited imperial expansion of decades." Ending his explanation, he hurried over to his desk. Opening a draw, he pulled forth a large rolled-up piece of parchment.

    Returning to face his students, he laid the parchment across their seats. His action prompted Peter to grab the cup of water, saving it from its potential descent to the floor. Someone wrote the word Hestia in cursive below the detailed map of the entire continent. The landmasses denoted a large continent with three smaller islands to the west.

    Placing his finger on the western region, he pointed out the locations of Sylvan, Helgos, Judica, and Tarkon. Sylvan encompassed the western islands and western shore of Hestia. Helgos was in the northwest, at the foot of a vast mountain range. The holy city of Judica was in the centre and the vast plains of Tarkon were to the east.

    "Here is the domain of humanity, the Holy Empire of Judica." Tracing his finger further east, he outlined the Federation of Demonus and its member states. "The United Realms of Lankos." His finger maneuvered to the southern region of the map, identifying three cities encompassing the Lankosian realm.

    All three nodded, with Peter muttering something to himself. "Sweet getting some lore. This is so epic." His excitement was barely above a whisper, yet Lucy caught it and the two shared a silent bit of camaraderie.

    "Continuing to the south-west, we have the Republic of Solaris. Not much is known about them, except for minor rumours from traders that reach that far south. From what we can gather, they are strange creatures, deeply religious and worship the sun." This caused Peter to chuckle loudly, breaking the serious atmosphere.

    Finding their gazes a tad oppressive, Peter spoke up meekly. "They must be gamers, probably hardcore Shadow Vitalis players, big sun-worshippers they were." His comment elicited stunned silence, the room momentarily frozen, confusion etched on their faces.

    Jasmine glared at him, annoyance clear on her face while Lucy turned back to her candle, unwavering in her attempt to command the fire.

    "So, there are similar religions in your world?" He asked, curiosity beaming on his face.

    Deciding to cut this short, Jasmine cut in. "Don''t listen to him, he is talking about a game. Please continue."

    Thoroughly confused, Davos shrugged before continuing. "Well then, if we go north, we have the domains of the wizards and mages. The Wizard State of Ikarus and the Magara Council of Mages. Both are populated by citizens that practise magic and are loosely aligned with the Federation." Glossing over them, he hurried to the central region and pointed at a map marker.

    "This is the capital of the federation, the city of Demonus. Once the seat of power for the demons of old, it is now the political base of the federation." Gesturing to the map marker, he outlined the entire territory of the federation in a wide circle encompassing the eastern region.

    "It is known that veritable demons still rule there in a limited capacity as both peacekeepers and diplomats of the federation. This information was, of course, not well received by the empire''s populace, with many believing it to be rumours or blatant lies." Adding on that comment, he stepped back to assess his students'' reactions.

    All three remained as they were, displaying remarkably different reactions. Jasmine sat deep in thought, processing the significance of this information. Peter wore an excited expression, his mind racing with the possibilities, while Lucy stared intensely at the flame.

    The room was thick with silence. The only sounds were light breathing and flickering candles. Suddenly, flames leapt from the wick, dancing in the air and casting wild shadows on the wall. Lucy shot up from her chair. The visceral reaction to uncontrolled fire overrode the mesmerising nature of the flame.

    Peter snapped to the flames, his thoughts a jumble. Instinct took over and before he could even understand what was going on, the container of water he was so enamoured with spilt. With a rush of adrenaline, he willed the water into a shimmering sphere. Without a second thought, he hurled it at the flames. The fire hissed and sputtered, doused by the frigid embrace of ice-cold water.

    With the fire extinguished, Jasmine hastily rose, her heart pounded and her fists clenched. Before she could lift a finger, the loud echo of splintering wood resounded. Glancing down, her eyes grew wide at the sight of wood splintering beneath her palms. Deep cracks radiated across the desk like a spider''s web.

    Strangely, she barely registered any pain or pressure. The wood had splintered and was sharp. It was likely they were stabbing into her palms. Despite that, they were mere whispers against her skin, nothing but a dull pressure.

    "That''s sufficient for today''s students. You may leave," his voice lingered in the air, creating a thick and palpable silence. The only sound was the steady drip of water, droplets falling to the floor.

 Chapter 15 - Lessons

    The heroes left the classroom, deflated and worried. Davos called in a group of servants to clean up the mess. Lucy''s head was downcast in shame, only brightening upon seeing Peter''s glowing smile. "Come on, Lucy, it''s alright, they didn''t hold it against you," he comforted.

    Despite the hesitation, Lucy''s nerves calmed and then settled "I nearly set the place on fire.," she protested, trying to keep her voice soft.

    Peter could see she was ashamed and summoned a torrent of infectious positivity. "It was epic. You''re a badass fire starter." He attempted to reassure her, glancing at a nearby guard. "Hey guard, dude, this has to be a typical thing, right?" He asked, his voice wavering slightly, though he tried to hide it.

    The left guard turned to appraise his saviours. "You are right, young man, an old pal of mine was a novice fire spiritus. He and his familiar nearly lit the academy on fire." The guard grinned, tapping his compatriot on the shoulder.

    The second guard turned sheepishly, revealing a healed burn mark on his left temple. "You will be alright kid; it is common for novices to light a few things on fire." He reassured.

    Beneath his armour, a creature slipped out of a crack and rested on his shoulder. Wreathed in flame, it glowed softly, resembling a solitary candle in the dim light. Lucy leaned in, her curiosity piqued, and inspected the creature. Surprisingly, she saw a tiny orange lizard beneath the sparking flames.

    Its forked tongue licked the air, dispersing tiny sparks. The fire-lizard turned back to look at her. Once their eyes met, it jumped up and down. Excited, the lizard hopped up and down like a child on sugar, happily spitting fire.

    The guard frowned, his eyes narrowed as he traced the lizard''s unblinking gaze. "This is Zeraph, my familiar. He is a Cinderian Reptilis from the ashen mountains," he said, his voice steady as he raised his left palm. The lizard, its scales shimmering with mesmerising orange hues, licked the air, its glistening eyes glued to Lucy.

    The group stayed behind to gawk at the exchange between a young girl and a fire lizard. Lucy and the guard grinned sheepishly, both enraptured by the creature''s joyful antics. Every time Zeraph leapt into the air, he released a trail of sparks, tickling the guard''s palm.

    Peter and Jasmine leaned in, their eyes affixed to the guard''s outstretched palm, which seemed utterly bare. "What are we looking at? His hand is empty?" The pair exchanged glances, utterly confused and trying to puzzle out what the others were seeing.

    The guard smiled widely, a chuckle escaping his lips. While explaining, "Unless you have a connection with the spirit of the flame, you cannot perceive his children if they don''t want you to," he gently stroked the air where the fire lizard was perched, invisible to others.

    Gradually, a shimmering outline emerged and the lizard''s vibrant scales came into full view. The two heroes gasped, their eyebrows shooting up as the figure solidified before them, surrounded by iridescent flames.

    The pair leaned in, their eyes wide with curiosity as they studied the creature. Lucy gently patted Zeraph''s head, and the lizard let out a soft purr of enjoyment. Despite the open flames, she felt no heat, only a soothing warmth. The group dawdled for a time, and the guard brought his familiar back to his shoulder.

    Bidding their farewells, some more heartfelt than others. Lucy had to be dragged from the creature she wanted to pet. The bond the two instantly shared was otherworldly and the heroic pair suspecting it had something to do with her blessing of fire.

    After several twists and turns, they reached a doorway. The finely crafted double door depicted the four elements arrayed in a square-like configuration. Approaching it, the guards swung it open, directing the three to enter.

    They entered one by one as the door closed behind them. What greeted them was more than likely a training room. It reminded Peter of a dojo. In the centre were three people, standing side by side as if waiting for the new arrivals.

    Between the two was the figure of Master Rita, still wearing her elegant robe and a warm smile. To her left was a young man in his early twenties, with short blonde hair that caught the light like spun gold. His bright emerald eyes radiated confidence and a hint of mischief. Clad in a dark surcoat that contrasted with his rugged brown boots, he carried a sheathed ornamental rapier. The weapon hinted at sophistication, but also a readiness for adventure.

    To the right was a middle-aged woman in her early thirties, with long silver hair cascading down her neck and her dark brown eyes bordering on black, holding a depth of wisdom. They settled upon the heroes with a keen interest, judging every move they made.

    The three entered and approached the opposite trinity, and stood before them, puzzled. Once arrived, Rita spoke. "Welcome heroes for your first day in training to become competent spirit magi." Gesturing with her hands outstretched, she welcomed them happily.

    Peter tilted his head, blinking rapidly as he tried to parse the information. "Spirit, Magi?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "I thought it was called Spiritus or something?" He wondered aloud.

    "Spirit Magi is the common term, while Spiritus is an ancient name for our people, before the time of the empire." Turning to the side, she walked over to a small desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a leather-bound book.

    Returning, she presented the first page. "The Spiritus were the ancient contractors and is thus considered the formal title." Passing over a few pages, she looked up, taking the hero''s measure. "Spirit Magi became the more modern term, since the modernisation of spirit arts and the induction of wizard magic."

    The three heroes nodded in unison, with only Peter getting distracted. Rita cleared her throat, prompting the distracted hero to stiffen like a student scolded by a teacher. Continuing with her lesson, she flipped through the pages. "I take a practical approach to learning, so we will begin with that." Closing the book with a soft thud.

    She glided across the room with fluid grace; her robe billowing from the slight breeze. Reaching her destination, she took the measure of her prospective students. Eyeing them with a glint in her eye.

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    "These two shall be your instructors in areas I am not familiar with." Casting her gaze to the younger woman to her left.

    Nodding with enthusiasm, the young lady introduced herself in a soft, melodic tone. "Greetings heroes, my name is Elisara of House Dimontes." With a flourish, she flung her hands out in an exaggerated pose, her eyes radiating a mix of confidence and playfulness.

    Once her formal greeting was done, she spoke again. "I am a practising witch and spirit magi of water." With another flourish of her left hand, the act produced a stream of water that quickly solidified into ice and then evaporated.

    The group of heroes watched in awe of the display. Peter let out a shrill sound of amusement that echoed through the room. "Cool." he said, excited well before the embarrassment set in.

    Jasmine and Lucy turned to him, puzzled looks in their glistening eyes. "Thank you, Lady Elisara," Rita spoke with a slight nod, turning to the young man to her right.

    With not a second to spare, he stood up straight, stiffening his body. "I am Halmar Uchena of House Yorik." Lifting his chin as he spoke, pride swelling.

    Immediately, he clasped his hands together and gestured them forward with a quick bow. "I am a spirit magi of the air element." He declared, steady and proud. As he spoke, a powerful air current swirled around him, sending a soft whoosh around the room.

    Rita frowned at Halmar, showing off, turned back to the heroes and introduced herself. "I am Rita, spirit magi of both fire and earth elements, respectively." She spoke in a formal tone, not even flinching or adding fanfare.

    Silence descended before Rita spoke up again. "Alright, we shall begin today''s lesson. Peter, you shall pair with Elisara." She directed to the now smiling hero.

    Once they had moved away, she shifted to Jasmine and Lucy. Eyeing them inquisitively, she spoke. "I believe I can instruct you, particularly with a lesson in control." Glancing down at her with a half-smile tracing across her lips, her gaze had Lucy turn downcast. She reddened in embarrassment.

    "How are you with that sword?" Jasmine abruptly added, gesturing towards the rapier at Halmar''s hip.

    He was initially taken aback, but reclaimed his composure easily enough. Tapping the hilt of his ornamental blade, he smirked. "Better than most." Replying with a strange mixture of humility and confidence.

    Rita noticed the exchange. "Are you skilled in the sword?" Rita asked, confounded expression; she quickly received a nod from the hero.

    Rita grinned, her eyes glistening with interest, directed to the edge of the room and several racks of practice weapons. Contemplating, she nodded a few times, concluding. "Then how about you and Halmar begin with a friendly spar? It should be a useful lesson."

    The two faced each other, both assessing each other with steely intensity. Neither betrayed any emotion. Their expressions were cold and focused. With a nod, they moved to the centre of the room, poised and ready for a clash.

    The first strike came from Jasmine, lunging at Halmar''s sternum. The move was quick and efficient. Despite the apparent grace, Halmar parried it with little effort. But before Halmar could perform a counter riposte, Jasmine retreated to a defensive posture, her blade thrust forward and her body side face.

    Tilting his head to the side, Halmar assessed the form, and a curious glint in his eye. Immediately, he lunged forward, sending a single strike to test her guard. She parried the blade to the side after it smacked against the wood. Halmar adjusted his grip and sliced across, turning his blade back towards her neck.

    Anticipating the change, she turned her blade to the side, slamming against it with all her impulsive might. The moment of impact shattered the two weapons, splinters flew off in every direction. Jasmine reacted by shielding her face with her off-hand, and several splinters of wood flew towards her.

    Halmar raised a wind barrier to envelop him and they bounced off harmlessly. Instead of piercing Jasmine''s soft flesh, they plummeted to the ground as if they had met a solid wall. She inspected what should have been her wounds, her eyes widened in shock, and her body was untouched by the assault.

    She flexed her fingers, truly inspecting her body and the inexplicable sturdiness of what had been fragile flesh. She couldn''t quite say she felt stronger, but she indeed could sense the density of her body had changed drastically. Her form was solid, and she had only just noticed.

    Her senses returned, and she inspected the broken blade in her hand, finding it shattered into many pieces and strewn across the ground. Noticing Halmar, his amused face almost mocking her before the smile faded.

    "If that''s how you want to play it, perhaps a different game is in order." Once spoken, he raised his hand and a gust of wind manifested around him.

    The air shimmered as it streamed towards the sword rack, lifting two more practice swords into the air. With a swift motion, they floated effortlessly across the room. One landed gracefully in Halmar''s dominant hand and the other flew over to Jasmine. Despite the strange circumstance, she felt exhilarated, as if she had unleashed something within her.

    Power radiated throughout her form, lending energy to every appendage. She could feel as if she was monstrous and could crush anything in her path. The feeling extended to every aspect of her form, solidifying them to a steel-like density.

    The reverie lasted but a moment before she regained her wits and caught the blade. Grinning with a weapon in hand. Her eyes looked at her enemy, gripping the blade even tighter than before. The weapon strained under her new strength. She leapt forward. All grace and propriety went away during that split second. The etiquette of a formal duel went by the wayside as the ground shook from her first step.

    Bounding forward, she went straight for her enemy, performing a downward slice. A split second before it assailed him, he vanished into an afterimage. The weapon descended, ready to desecrate the ground, but stopped just short.

    Looking up, she felt a slight breeze behind her and spun around to block the incoming attack. Faster than she had ever seen before, Halmar moved as if gliding in the air, striking down with his blade.

    She raised her own to block the incoming strike, repelling his weight backwards with a sudden push. His form glided back before stationed himself in a defensive posture. With both now opposite to each other, the spectators crowded around to observe.

    "Kick his ass!" Peter yelled at the top of his lungs. Elisara shushed him as if his manner was entirely improper. Peter shrank back sheepishly and with a reddened face.

    Halmar stood there, assessing his opponent before speaking up. "You fight well, albeit strangely. What technique is that?" He asked.

    "Fencing. My father taught me he wanted a boy," she said, her voice steady and devoid of emotion.

    Nodding a few times, Halmar raised his weapon and aimed it. "Boy or girl, you fight well. Let''s test how well." Making his last declaration, he prepared for round two.

 Chapter 16 - Self Discoveries

    Clash after clash, the two battered each other to exhaustion, both attempting to gain ground against their opponent. Adjusting to her augmented strength, Jasmine focused on swift and brutal strikes, meant to disable her opponent''s weapon.

    Her efforts to disable his weapon proved fruitless, as the air magi ducked and weaved out of the way of every strike. Just as her weapon descended, sliced, or lunged, a gust of wind would propel her opponent out of the way.

    But he was not idle. He gave as much as he took. With every parry or dodge, he countered with a strike. He knew the blessing of Terranuk reinforced her body and was thus stronger than steel. But causing permanent damage was not the goal, disarming the opponent was.

    Air currents swirled around him, latching upon his weapon, constructing a barrier around it. Raising the weapon to block, instead of both weapons shattering to pieces, she slid past, rebounded by a powerful air current.

    His opponent was wide open, her hand vulnerable to attack. He struck with his blade, releasing a gust of wind, intending to thrash her grip with full force. He summoned the power of his familiar spirits and directed them at a single point.

    The moment they reached, she shifted her weapon to her other hand. The blast of wind struck her arm and sent it flying back. Yet she still held firm, her weapon in hand and the fight in full swing.

    What followed was the two hacking at each other for a while. Neither backed down and employed their spiritual powers to the fullest extent they could muster. Jasmine tried to maintain her raw strength and directed with victory in mind. Halmar sent strike after strike at his opponent, mustering up air currents to augment his attacks.

    Soon, the pair were gasping for breath as the battle between strength and speed took its toll. Slowly, the two, now drenched in sweat and panting heavily, retired to the side for some rest.

    "You fight like a beast, Marchella." Leaning back against the wall, resting his weary bones. Halmar spoke with a light chuckle and wide-brim smile.

    Now that Jasmine was near, she could hear a more pronounced, almost French, accent. Placing his practice sword down, he inhaled deeply, sliding down against a wall. His body deflated and turned slack, like a puppet with its strings cut.

    Alongside him was Jasmine, equally panting like a dog, yet keeping a cold and indifferent expression. She seated herself beside him.

    "Not the first time I have heard that, yet it is the first I have heard of what, Marchella." Her face scrunched up in confusion.

    "Strange, the word is not translating. The magic to understand the language doesn''t seem to kick in." They noticed such magic early on. Peter had already expected it and observing people conversing was pretty obvious.

    "Oh, my dear, that magic only gifts you the imperial tongue. Marchella is Lankosian, the language of the beasts." Giving her a little wink, he continued with his explanation. "Marchella, it means beautiful but deadly. It comes from a carnivorous flower that has laid low, many men and beasts alike."

    Turning his gaze to the ceiling, he continues once more. "I once heard the term used to describe a Lankosian pack of all-female gladiators. They fought in the Teskamirian arena. Now that was a sight to see Marchella." Leaning back, his eyes turned glassy, looking off into the distance recalling a long distant memory.

    With his information pouring over her like a cold drink of water. She nodded her head a few times. "Why would someone only gift us with a single language? Surely there are more?"

    He chuckled softly. "Oh, Marchella, out of all that I said, you focus on the one that matters." He shrugged. "I know little, but they probably don''t want you talking to the other side, no?" finishing his statement more than a rhetorical question.

    "Leave that to the diplomats, kings, and queens. Politics Marchella it is not our place, no?" These words sunk deep, causing her interest to peak.

    Frowning in thought, she spoke. "Do you mean to say the Empire doesn''t allow us to communicate with the Federation?"

    Shrugging, he gave a pouty look before answering. "No idea, but I would say they are not keen on having their heroes switching sides." With a playful grin, he laid down his truth bombs, then with a flourish, grasped his practice sword gracefully between two fingers and began balancing the blade on his index, the weapon teetering for only a moment.

    Jasmine sat back in contemplative thought, taking everything in. "Yet you know their language. How is that?"

    "Marchella, truly you live up to this name, fine I will tell you." He resigned himself to an explanation. "I have been across the border and visited the United Realms when I was a young man. Of course, growing up in a small Tarkonian border village, I was exposed to many cultures."

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    Nodding a few times before smiling, he continued. "The border was a funny thing. It moved during the war, and sometimes we would be citizens of the kingdom or the realms. So, my impoverished people played nice to each occupying force. In the end, I learned much from both sides."

    "When I was a boy, there was a time when we were occupied by a Teskamirian army. Despite the propaganda, they were quite a pleasant bunch. They used this time to form caravans and trade deals with the local farmers. Twas odd Marchella, how a superior military force dealt with a small village rather than taking what they want. Something to do with their culture, I think, merchant people all about fair trade and equivalent exchange." He explained before chuckling softly.

    "Soon I pleaded with my mother to go along with the caravan to the grand city of Teskamir. After much time and begging, she conceded. That trip was where I first learned about the sword from the soldiers returning home. But nothing ever compared to my first day in the city, what marvellous sights to see. The Warriors Arena, the Golden Towers and the grand citadel of wealth." His eyes turned to some faint memory off into the distance.

    Deciding to seat herself a little closer to Halmar. "It seems like you have lived a wide and fulfilling life. May I ask how you came to be here, so far from home?" She asked, displaying genuine curiosity.

    In response, Halmar started moving his head from side to side. "No, Marchella, that is not the rules of the game." He declared with a level of glee in his glimmering eyes.

    "The game?" She queried, quite confused at the sudden turn of events.

    Nodding a few times, he finally responded. "Yes, indeed Marchella, the game is a tale for a tale. I give you my tale and now yours." He awaited her reply, gesturing his outstretched palm as if calling her to him.

    She pondered for a moment, her eyes narrowed in thought, her mind weighing the options. "Not today. Let us focus on the now, shall we?" she replied without hesitation before looking deeply into his eyes.

    The two stared at each other before Halmar conceded. "As you wish, Marchella, but you owe me a tale." Clasping hands, they both got to their feet.

    On the other side of the room, Peter and Lucy sat in the lotus position. Their two teachers attempt to impart their wisdom. They went into a long-winded explanation of magic that neither of them really understood. In the end, they were told or ordered to seat themselves in the position of mindfulness and meditation. Both were not happy with this turn of events. Peter peeked every so often to the side, watching in awe at Jasmine''s match.

    His blood boiled at the potential excitement, yet with every dizzying high of emotion, he felt a cooling sensation wash over him. He hadn''t noticed it, but as time went by, it became more noticeable. Seated in meditation, apparently to commune with the inner spirit. He instead performed a series of tests as he delved into his own mind and memories.

    Images flickered to life, spurned from the deepest recesses of his mind. They appeared like smoke before evaporating into incomprehensible visions. Concentrating, he grasped a memory, and his sight changed.

    The high school corridor came into focus, with lockers lining the hall and a stampede of young students filling the space. All around him were indifferent gazes. The figures passed by.

    Clutching his stomach to the ground by another blow toppled Peter to the ground. In front of him were several taller students. Strangely, their faces were a blur, indiscernible from each other. Blow after blow, they laid into Peter with reckless abandon. Words such as nerd, geek, wuss and idiot were spat at him.

    Despite the vivid memory and the rising heat boiling in his chest, a strange calm washed over him, the cool icy sensation lessening the feeling. The feeling cemented itself and the scene froze as if time had stopped. Rising to his feet, he found the pain had gone and his tormenters remained frozen.

    The scene changed, and suddenly the appearances of the other students came into focus. Their faces were uniquely arranged, yet did not show the expressions he expected. They weren''t indifferent, on the contrary, wide eyes and flared nostrils revealed their fear and anger. Yet none of them had the strength to move. They only watched, powerless.

    At that moment, he understood. The feeling tore out the cobwebs, diminishing his anger and shame to a trickle. With a single thought, he pulled himself out of the past and into the present. The first thing he noticed was the cold and freezing temperature surrounding him. The air chilled to ice, his breath fogging up with every exhale.

    Blinking the grogginess out of his eyes, he surveyed his field of view. Surrounding him was a frozen surface in a perfect circle. The only imperfection was the heat emanating from his side, turning his chilled air to steam. Turning his head to the side, he saw Lucy seated similarly, yet her body heaved in battered breaths.

    She clenched her fists tightly as fires sparked around her. Her circumference was boiling and become more pronounced as she let loose her fury. She released a childlike roar, a scream of utter rage as every ounce of suppressed feelings raged to the surface.

    The air became white hot, only contained by Rita. The experienced spirit magi, with a flick of her hand, manifested a shield of flames around her. Within this sphere, flashes of memories featuring every indignity or slight Lucy had endured came boiling to the surface.

    Memories of name-calling, perpetrated by boys no better than Neanderthals. Back-handed compliments from girls who claimed to be her friends. Her father and mother focused on their problems while she suffered in silence, trying to keep herself in check.

    Everything she subtly despised about her life tore its way to the surface. She was free and pure, with nothing one would consider a restraint. Her sensibilities and manners kept her down, and she stood, raging more and more than everything she had suppressed was ejected with reckless abandon.

    As the flames encircling her danced, it appeared they mirrored her emotions. The raging storm inside vented until she was finally calm and apathetic. The flames died down and faded to minor scorch marks on the floor.

    Awaking from her state of pure and unbridled aggression, she first noticed Rita smiling at her and Peter looking on, worried. Turning to Rita for guidance, "What happened?" she asked, trying to get her bearings.

    "What happened was progress." She declared with a wide brim smile, turning to a confused but surprisingly calm Peter. "A lot of progress indeed."

 Chapter 17 - Drunken Nights And Morning Adventures

    Sensation returned in an instant, and Al snapped back to consciousness. The groggy sight of a wooden floor came into view. Titling his head, he inspected the partially cleaned-up patch of vomit. Hoping he had not been the dispenser of such a stain.

    When he got up, he noticed he had sprawled across several adjacent chairs. Either he or someone had arranged them in a makeshift sleeping arrangement. Arising to an upright position, he clasped his forehead.

    Letting out a soft groan, he endured the raging headache as foggy memories came flooding back. Vague images of drinking, singing, and jovial laughter mentally surfaced.

    Al took stock of his surroundings. The world, once blurry and out of focus, became clearer. The tavern, a place where he had consumed a considerable amount of liquor, stretched out before him.

    ¡°Your awake, finally.¡± A voice hit him from the side like a semi-truck running over his brain.

    The voice was grating and hammered his brain with a gruelling headache. Shaking his head to counter the pain, Al turned around and spotted the young Felix seated at the end of the table.

    He was wearing a fresh grey tunic with no accessories at all. The impatient stare was clear on his pale face. Grunting in pain, Al ascended. Sighing heavily, he glanced at Felix, trying to gauge his level of pissed off.

    Noticing the young man giving him an icy glare, Al realised what he was in for. It ¡°Go ahead boy, have at it.¡± He said, dejected.

    Instead of answering, he felt puzzled and didn''t understand, but not for long. Soon he regained his wits. ¡°You said you would take care of us?¡± He accused.

    The boy demanded answers; Al''s recklessness had wounded him. Al could barely stay upright. Still, he mustered enough brain cells to respond.

    ¡°I intend to.¡± He answered.

    Felix inhaled sharply, ready to launch into a tirade. ¡°You call this taking care of us? You took us to a tavern.¡± He gestured emphatically at the gloomy surroundings. ¡°Three men propositioned my sister¡ªthree men!¡ªafter being here for just ten minutes!¡± His voice elevated to a borderline shout as he thrust three fingers into his face.

    Al realised the boy was right and so started soothing the wrathful vampire. ¡°I am sorry about that; taverns are not exactly known for having respectable company.¡± He said apologetically.

    ¡°Yet this place is the perfect cover. Most would not expect you and her amongst the riff-raff.¡± He gestured to his surroundings, making his point.

    Felix considered a rebuttal, but he felt too mentally exhausted to attempt one, so he slumped into his chair. ¡°What now? My sister went out to buy supplies. You said something about a trip north.¡± Swiftly, he changed the subject, still maintaining his displeasure.

    ¡°We are going to head out this morning. We will meet a few new friends at the northern gate.¡± He explained, feeling a twinge of unease. ¡°So, get your sister and meet me outside the inn.¡± He added.

    A pounding headache was there, but instead of succumbing, he ignored it. Nodding to the young man, he made his way out of the tavern. Exiting the double doors, he covertly withdrew an old backpack out of thin air. Strapping it to his back, he donned the appearance of a brave adventurer. Satisfied with his attire, he waited patiently for his companions.

    Surrounding him were the bustling streets filled with peasants. Every one of them scurried around at first light. Breathing in the fresh air, he felt the fatigue leave him. Soon enough, a voice carried on the wind. It originated from inside and spoke in a shrill female voice.

    ¡°You''re finally awake.¡± The words were dripping with indignation.

    Felix''s elder sister appeared before him and for a moment, Al was concerned, but he soon left that feeling behind. ¡°I am. Did you sleep well in your humble lodgings?¡± He asked with a slight note of sarcasm.

    Joan snorted, getting used to their new companion''s sarcastic demeanour. ¡°I can''t complain. It was decent of you to provide lodging.¡± She sincerely thanked him, not even a trace of sarcasm.

    Her sudden shift in demeanor took aback Al, quickly surprised, with his next words stuck in his throat. Joan instead shifted to her usual self as if the former sincerity didn¡¯t suit her.

    ¡°Still, you could have told us you were going to get blackout drunk.¡± She chastised.

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    Upon reflex, he stood straight, the old instincts from his youth taking hold. Initially disturbed by this turn of events, he quickly sank deeper into the sensation. ¡°I apologise. It was rude of me to partake.¡± He mustered up all the politeness and gentlemanly demeanour he had discarded years ago.

    Thankfully, she accepted the apology, and the two were finally civil. Only for the awkward silence to set in, both not knowing where to go from here. Al scratched his chin, trying to come up with a next topic of discussion, and Joan just smiled like nothing was off.

    "So, when do we leave?" Felix interjected, and Al felt a sigh of relief when someone broke the ice.

    ¡°We will make our leave soon; I first must check in with the wizard''s guild.¡± He declared, and the siblings nodded.

    The three left the inn and plunged into the city''s depths towards their destination. Visiting the wizard''s guild for a moment to log his journey north. Greeting the receptionist with a smile, he spun her a tale.

    He was lying his ass off and informed her of his plans to visit the northern ruins of the old wizard kings. She smiled, accepting every word as if it were a gospel. The siblings stared dumbstruck as he spun the intricate web of deception. If they weren''t in the know, they would have believed him.

    Soon after leaving the guild, Felix could no longer hold his tongue. ¡°Why did you lie?¡±

    Al grinned evilly, enjoying these moments when he could flex the old con man that lay dormant in that old criminal heart of his. Becoming a hero didn''t erase his past, and he had no interest in being a better man. Sure he enjoyed being a vigilante, it was cool and reminded him of the old comic books he used to read as a child.

    But nothing was better in life than gaming the system, finding exploits and taking advantage of everything that was on offer. He wondered if that made him a bad person, but only briefly.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t really tell them I was heading to the old ruins of the upire. It¡¯s forbidden lands as far as I can tell.¡± He explained, shrugging.

    The siblings parsed his words, their brows furrowed in thought, wondering if sticking with this kind of man was in their best interest. The two collectively decided that he was the best option they had.

    Soon they made their way north, passing several checkpoints with ease. Al wore the sigil of the wizard''s guild draped around his neck. The necklace had a metal chain laced through it, connecting to a medallion with a stave and a wand crossing each other.

    The sigil allowed the trio to pass through with ease, and eventually they reached the northern gate. It was a massive structure of black stone and the faint emanations of magic weaved into the structure were obvious to his trained eye.

    The gate itself stood taller than every building surrounding it. Battlements dotted the structure, with soldiers patrolling them. The gate itself was the typical medieval construct made of steel with teeth sliding into the ground. It was akin to a giant maw, devouring caravans as they passed through.

    Al looked around, trying to locate his associates, and after some time, he spotted them. The pair was leaning beside a carriage and with them in sight; he made his way over, greeting them as he approached.

    ¡°Hello there.¡± He spoke in the manner of one of his favourite characters back on earth.

    James and Sally turned to greet him. Sally¡¯s expression shifted quickly from a pleasant smile to an annoyed scowl. ¡°You''re late.¡± She chastised.

    Before Al could speak in his defence, James cut in. ¡°Come on, Sal, they are only late by a few minutes. Give the man a break.¡± The bulky man with an imposing form towered over the rest.

    Despite his appearance akin to a barbarian ready to crush skulls, he was a pretty nice guy. The one he nicknamed Sal glared at him with annoyance. Despite that, her eyes softened once she noticed the pleading gaze of her companion.

    ¡°Fine, but remember, I am holding you responsible. Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t notice you sneaking off to the tavern.¡± Agreeing with James, she shot back, laying his sins bare.

    Al felt confused before a hazy memory suddenly came back to him. During his drunken escapades in the tavern, James had slinked back to drink with him. The two merrily had one pint and then six, the memories became blurry after that.

    Al ignored that and promptly changed the subject. ¡°So, are we heading out? I see there is a caravan behind you.¡± He queried.

    Sally and James glanced back. ¡°Yes, my man, we worked out a sweet protection gig. They should take us all the way to Helgos, and from there we go our own way.¡± He explained, grinning like he was the best negotiator in the world.

    Al glanced back at the two siblings. They both looked a little sheepish. ¡°Well, that sounds good. I and these two are planning to head to Paru.¡± With a pleasant smile, he lied through his teeth.

    Sally frowned before the light of recollection sparkled in her eye. ¡°Paru, I have heard of the place, pretty rough territory, neither imperial nor federation.¡± Her gaze sharpened, lingering on the two child companions.

    Before anyone could speak up, Al replied confidently. "No worries," Al said confidently, attempting to put their minds at ease, as the wizard''s guild confirmed they will receive him well.

    James merely nodded, accepting the answer. Sally snorted. Her anger was likely provoked by the mention of the wizard''s guild. Paying that no mind, he gestured for them to lead on.

    Before Alistair could follow, he felt a tug on his cloak and, glancing back; he noted Joan glaring back at him. Her questioning gaze quickly unveiled the truth. Preempting a tirade, he spoke first in a hushed whisper.

    ¡°We are not actually going to Paru.¡± He explained, eyeing both of the siblings.

    The two glanced back, confused, and gestured for him to continue. ¡°We are going to the Ruins of Nosfera.¡± Letting that statement hang, he paused.

    The siblings gasped, their bodies tensed, and a shiver ran up their spine. They recognised that location and they knew why everybody stayed out of there.

    "But imperial decree forbids those lands. Even the federation avoids them. Everyone knows that." Everyone knows that.¡±

    ¡°Forbidden, huh? Now, where is your sense of adventure? Don¡¯t you want to learn of your heritage?¡± Al grinned, offering the sweet nectar of forbidden knowledge. ¡°Come on, who wouldn¡¯t want to explore the ruins of the once great Upireon Empire?¡± Leaving that question hanging, he gestured for them to follow.

 Chapter 18 - The Road North And A Simple Truth

    After some time, the group found themselves riding along with a small merchant caravan. Three carriages followed each other, evenly spaced, one after the other. They were of simple make, primarily composed of wood, cloth and metal wheels. Two horse-like creatures pulled them. Instead of four legs, they had six in total.

    Al sat astride his six-legged horse, the animal''s rhythmic gait sending vibrations up his leg, as he pondered their form. Glancing to the side, he spotted the siblings, Joan sat atop her mount, guiding the creature with practised grace and skill. Behind her, Felix clung to his sister for dear life, eyes wide and knuckles white. Al chuckled at the sight, lifting the weight of his serious thoughts and adding a dash of humour.

    Bringing himself back, he had initially believed they were mutant horses. Instead, he came to the conclusion they were an established and common species. He had queried James about four-legged horses, only to get a booming laugh as a response. Four-legged horses did not exist and these Sleipnir''s were the common travel animal.

    Leaving that aside, he continued riding, taking in the scenery. They had been travelling along the northern highway for over a week now. The travel was dull, without a single bit of entertainment. Al briefly thought of flying but quickly stamped that down, he had to stop that train of thought several times.

    Looking around he took in his surroundings, trying desperately to find something of interest, the environment was a wide grassy field and to the left an expansive forest. Beneath Sleipnir''s feet was a simple dirt road, it led to a border fort named South Haven.

    According to history, the fort was held against a month-long siege by imperials. Falling once the emperor called upon the spirit of the earth and levelled the walls. The fort was rebuilt a few years later and the territory was annexed.

    Helgos became a vassal state, a fact that Joan eagerly shared, her eyes sparkling in excitement as she regaled him. Al couldn''t help but smile wryly, recalling how animated she was, her hands gesturing wildly as she recounted the battles. Her passion for history transformed dull facts into vivid tales he could imagine so clearly.

    Stuck in these musings, he glanced to the side and the sound of wood creaking before a loud thud. He frowned, trying to discern the origin, he saw the front-most carriage sunk into the ground, its front right wheel was bent and fell off the hinges. Halting his mount, the entire convoy followed suit and soon after they had stopped.

    Al had been informed they would make camp, due to the setting sun and the time it would take to fix the carriage. Nodding, he led the siblings to the side and set up his camp in a small clearing.

    ¡°Felix, would you help me get some firewood?¡± Al asked the young man, who replied with a simple nod.

    As they approached the forest, Al turned back, offering a reassuring nod to Joan. Her brow furrowed, worry etched on her face as she watched them vanish out of sight. Once they were inside the shaded embrace of the trees, they began to gather sticks for a fire, their hands moving methodically. Halfway through their task, Al called out to his companion.

    ¡°Felix.¡± He called.

    Stopping in his tracks, Felix turned to the voice, puzzled. ¡°We should chat now that we are not in earshot of anyone else.¡±

    Before the conversation began, Al reached into the air and withdrew a small cooler, its edges shimmering in the light. He flipped open the lid and retrieved a blood bag, offering the feat to the young vampire. The moment Felix''s gaze caught sight of it, his eyes ignited with a fierce red glow, unmistakable hunger was reflected in his gaze.

    Al could see the anticipation and palpable tension descended between them, drawn by the promise of a bloody feast. The predatory gaze lingered before being replaced by utter repulsion. Noticing Felix¡¯s hesitation, Al withdrew the blood, his brows furrowing in confusion.

    Beneath the boys'' feet, the grass wilted, as if all the nutrients were stripped from the lush greenery. The sight piqued his interest and he quickly made a mental note before speaking. ¡°Are you aware you are killing the grass?¡± He asked.

    Felix was confused, his brow furrowed as he peered down at the patch of brownish grass spreading from his feet. ¡°No, no dammit!¡± He yelled before hopping away as if on fire.

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    Al observed the humorous situation, noting his response. ¡°I¡¯m guessing this has occurred before?¡±

    Standing tall, he shrugged, and a hint of embarrassment flickered across his face. ¡°It¡¯s happened before, usually when I go without eating for a while.¡± He explained the phenomena, his head dipped lower as if ashamed.

    ¡°Don¡¯t lower your head, you are a unique entity and there is pride in that.¡± Smiling softly, his words lifted the boy''s spirit, only slightly. Despite the reassuring words, his head only ascended a fraction.

    ¡°What does it matter if I am unique, does being unique make me any less of a monster?¡± His voice dripped with self-deprecation and loathing.

    Acting quickly, Al interjected. ¡°Monster is a relative term, it''s based on character rather than nature, at least in my opinion.¡± He offered his honest opinion on the subject, hoping it would pull the little vampire out of his slump.

    Felix pondered those words, trying to wrap his head around the strange concept. The sound of chirping birds and the breeze made the atmosphere serene. Eventually, Felix regained the courage to speak. ¡°But the empire, they label my kind as such. Monsters to be hunted down?¡±

    The concept of himself as a monster had been an ingrained ideal, no matter how his sister viewed him. He could not ignore how history portrayed his kind and the consensus of the citizens. The notion frightened him to no end, every night he would feel afraid. Fearful of not only his life but the life of his sister.

    She was innocent while he was cursed by birth, he always felt that curse would one day claim the last person to truly love him. The depressing thoughts swirled in his mind, becoming obvious to anyone at a glance.

    Al could read everything he was thinking and feeling just from his eyes. ¡°The empire is merely one opinion in a vast sea of ideas, they are small no matter how grand they build themselves. up¡± He raised a finger to emphasise his point.

    ¡°I have met beings similar to yourself.¡± He said as if ruminating on the past. ¡°They were a bit rough around the edges but still quite civilised, and in no way would I call them monsters.¡° Al explained the facts as he saw them.

    He raised his gaze and what he saw was something he had never seen before, save for his sister. He had always believed that she would be the only one to see him as a person, not as a thing. The thoughts governed his mind for many years and now he could finally see that he was wrong, his character was being assessed rather than his nature.

    He smiled, it was genuine and managed to drive away many of the doubts he had. Instead of indulging this feeling, his mind turned to questions. ¡°You have met others like me?¡± he queried with great interest, eager to learn as much as possible. The drive and passion of a scholar burned brightly in his eyes.

    Al nodded. ¡°Indeed, although they are somewhat different to yourself, perhaps they are cousin species.¡± Ruminating on his memories of meeting the night court of vampires.

    Memories came flooding back of pale-faced men and women, glaring at him like he was a meal. A slight shiver ran up his spine, no matter how powerful he had become. Some of those vampires could easily crush him like a bug.

    ¡°They were called Vampires, similar to you they fed on blood and were practically immortal.¡± He explained. ¡°Unlike you, who can withstand and perhaps even thrive in sunlight. They burnt to a crisp, of course, the elders could resist, but most hadn''t been seen in generations.¡± Piling on the information, he paused.

    He did not speak for a time, his gaze furrowing in thought. ¡°I have never heard of Vampires before, they do indeed sound similar to me. But to burn in sunlight, what a horrid fate, they must be cursed by the spirits.¡± Feeling sympathetic, Felix spoke his true feelings on the subject.

    Al nodded, enjoying this conversation without political or religious views. ¡°I don¡¯t know if the spirits had a hand in that. They reside in my homeland far from the spirits dominion.¡± Mentioning Matesh caused his eye to twitch, he stamped down the impulse.

    ¡°Your homeland what¡¯s it like? Perhaps we can visit it someday.¡± He asked, not understanding the distance involved.

    The sight made him happy, but only for a moment. ¡°Perhaps one day, but I need to find what I am looking for to return.¡± As if by the flow of conversation, Al revealed more than he had intended, regretting the leak in information, he chastised himself.

    Despite that, Felix paid it no mind, he became a bright and effervescent light bulb of wonder and joy. ¡°You will return I am sure of it, we can help you.¡± The joyful glint in his eyes touched Al''s heart, it was the sincere wish of someone so young.

    ¡°Thank you, Felix.¡± Releasing the dormant gratitude, he smiled wryly at the strange boy he only just met.

    Al suddenly remembered something. ¡°We should hurry up; the camp will be cold without us.¡± This spurned the two on and they continued picking up sticks for the campfire.

    Turning his back to Felix, Al bent down, inspecting a medium-sized stick. Suddenly the clattering of a bundle fell to the ground, alerting the wizard. Rising to his full height he noticed a nocked arrow aimed at his head, a man in leather armour, concealed by a cowl, aimed the weapon with deadly intent.

    Despite death appearing before him, Al turned around to check on Felix. Instead of the free and joyful boy, he saw fear in his eyes. Drawn close to his neck was a silver blade, he could tell by the way it seared the skin on Felix''s neck. Grasping the weapon was another cowled figure glaring at Al with clear intent.

    The silver blade was something that existed in earth mythology, the vampires of Matesh had no such weaknesses. he wondered if Felix''s vampire type had a connection to earth mythology, but that world was devoid of magic, but was it always so?

    He shook off these thoughts, now was not the time to ponder the historical existence of magic on earth, no matter how interesting it was.

    With the hostage situation at hand, only a single thought came to mind. ¡°How did I not detect them?¡±

 Chapter 19 - Ambush And A New Discovery

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    Arrows glinted menacingly from one side, while on the other, a silver dagger glinted against the boy''s throat. Tension crackled in the air, it was thick enough to be cut by the knife at the young man''s throat. Yet Al stood rooted in place, steady and controlled as if the chaos that surrounded him was a distant storm.

    Cautiously he examined his enemies. ¡°Evening gents, how may I help you?¡± He queried, trying to get a sense of their intentions, beyond the obvious

    The archer was the first to speak, his voice was hoarse, and he appeared sickly. ¡°Shut it wizard, we only want the boy.¡± He spat those words like they were poison.

    Shaking his head, Al resigned himself, these men were not keen on civilised banter. ¡°You are here for the boy, that explains the silver.¡± He gestured to the weapon made of a material he thought was more for werewolves

    ¡°There is no need for you to get an arrow to your forehead, let us have the abomination and we can be off.¡± Pulling his bowstring taut, he threatened Al with an arrow through the eye.

    It was like a gangster cocking his shotgun before demanding a wallet. Shaking his head, Al muttered softly. ¡°Nope, this won¡¯t do.¡± When those words came out, everything changed.

    The tension in the atmosphere rose another notch and the two ambushers could feel a slight tingling down their spines, the part of the brain that was still an animal. It told them exactly what they needed to know, run now or be slaughtered like cattle.

    The one behind Al was the first to speak. ¡°He is trying to hex yah, do him now!¡± That squeaky voice resounded just as an arrow was loosed.

    It glided through the air and found its target but instead of a kill shot, the poor archer failed to hit his mark. The tip hit the shoulder but instead of piercing flesh, it warped and bent around him. A force quickly saturated his target''s body, bending space around him.

    Not losing any momentum, it shot forward hitting flesh, the sound drew Al to the horrific sight of Felix with an arrow sticking out of his gut, piercing through his body and into the man behind him. If it were anyone else he would be dead.

    The situation shifted the moment a yelp of pain could be heard, the archer realised his shot missed and reached for his quiver. He was far too late, with a thought the air rippled around Al¡¯s arm and narrowing his gaze, the feeling of power radiated down his arm. With his movement an air current shot forth, reaching his foe in an instant.

    Slicing through the air like a blade, his head was cleanly severed, the man didn¡¯t even realise he was dead before his vision spun. With a dull thud, the severed head fell to the grass, followed shortly after by his headless body.

    Inspecting his hand, uncertain what precisely he had just done, the action was on instinct, his body moving on its own. He had engaged whatever magic this was and with a thought the power granted to him went into action. Shrugging the unexpected situation away, he turned to Felix. The boy was struggling, trying to remove the arrow, his attacker had dropped and was sprawled out.

    He appeared to be dead, but he wasn¡¯t taking that chance, walking over to the still-struggling Felix, he reached down and yanked the arrow with a single thrust. Squealing in pain and clutching his chest, the younger vampire keeled over.

    Al keenly observed the wound, the blood stain remained, but it swiftly closed. With his pain receding to a mild itch, Felix ascended to his feet. His face was still reeling in fear, his body shivering like a leaf. Despite the inhuman speed of his recovery, he was still a child. A child plagued by the fears and uncertainty that come with youth.

    ¡°I thought I was going to die.¡± He said, his eyes were wide with lingering terror as if the arrow was still there.

    ¡°It seems you are made of stronger stuff kid,¡± Al remarked, directing his attention to the wound.

    Shaking his head and regaining some nerve, Felix approached, glancing back at the corpse. ¡°Who were they?¡± He asked still shaking.

    Al ignored the question, inspecting the bodies. ¡°I think they are mercs, maybe bounty hunters.¡± He explained, reaching down and picking up the silver dagger.

    Shocked by the utterance, Felix paled. ¡°Were they after you?¡± He asked, trying to connect the dots in his head and coming up with an entirely different scenario.

    Shaking his head, Al inspected the blade, the gleaming silver was crude, yet still a fine blade. ¡°Considering they were packing silver; they were likely after you.¡±

    The moment he uttered those words, Felix noticeably shifted, the pace of his breath increased and a phantom sense of a blade at his neck. During that moment of distraction, Al reached over and pressed the blade to the boy¡¯s arm. Pressing it against his open flesh with some expectation. Nothing happened, which is what he suspected.

    ¡°That¡¯s interesting.¡± He muttered withdrawing the blade to inspect it again.

    ¡°What was that about?¡± He asked, thoroughly perplexed.

    Al again ignored him, inspecting the skin, much to the annoyance of a young vampire. ¡°Not even red, guess silver is a non-issue.¡± He commented mostly to himself. ¡°So, I wonder why the dead guy was packing the stuff?¡± Glancing between the blade and the corpse, he queried the air.

    Instead of silence, the air replied, not with words, but with a strange near-melodic whistle. For some reason, he knew on a deeper level that the wind had just answered. It of course replied with the good old, I have no idea, but answered, nonetheless. Shrugging away the oddity, he quickly glanced at Felix.

    The young little upire hadn''t noticed the chatty nature of the wind. ¡°Never mind kid, best get out of her. Get back to the caravan and to your sister, I will deal with the dead.¡± Gesturing to the corpses, he directed the young one to vacate.

    Felix was ready to protest but ultimately caved, turned away he left with great speed, moving like a swift predator. Once he had vanished through the foliage, Al released a weary sigh. ¡°If that kid wasn¡¯t so nice, he would make a true hellion.¡± He commented, thinking about the damage a fully grown upire could do.

    Shaking such thoughts away, he proceeded to loot the corpses, the only thing of value was their coin, and the rest of the equipment was subpar. They were left, to be salvaged by those with lesser taste. Another item of interest was the bounty letter and reading over the parchment, Al sighed in pure annoyance. It was a kill order for a monstrous upire with the shape of a child. A crude drawing of Felix was in the centre, unfortunately, there was a striking likeness.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Reading the bottom half, skimming past the propaganda, he read the name of the issuer. ¡°The Holy Order of Pyrus, these guys again.¡± Shaking his head, he tore the paper to pieces, noticing the rough feel of the parchment.

    He paused for a moment, pondering his next step, soon after a rustling could be heard and he turned to the noise, the corpse of the knife wielder. The dead man was moving, twitching like an epileptic at a strobe light convention. Less horror and more scientific intrigue. ¡°Undead perhaps, that would be a problem if they are common.¡± Muttering to himself he continued to observe, watching as the corpse lurched to a seated position.

    The dead man was deathly pale, his cheeks sunken in, his skin now chalk, he looked like the typical undead. ¡°That looks like some rapid deterioration.¡± Muttering again, he examined the dead man.

    Soon enough the dead rose to his feet, the whites of his eyes locking onto him. With a snarl, his fangs descended, and he lunged like a cat to prey. It required little effort to divert the raving dead man to the side, a simple wave of his hand generated a wind barrier and the dead man was repelled and sent crashing into a tree.

    It required little time for him to shrug off the impact and he rose with another snarl, growling like an animal. Poised to leap across the distance and sink his teeth in, despite the prey before him, his eyes switched to another. Following his gaze, Al noted he was eyeing the corpse. Before he could even wonder why, the answer presented itself.

    Abandoning his prey he sought the fresh kill, leaping upon it like a hungry wolf. Diving into the body, the dead man sank his teeth into its shoulder, ripping and biting ensued before it realised there was no blood in the coat. Al merely watched in fascination as a dead man tried to eat another dead man.

    Eventually, he found the neck after chewing on the man''s shoulder for five minutes, lunging forward he finally sank into the flesh. Trying to bleed, the corpse dry, he had to suck the blood out like a vacuum cleaner. It took him an impressive seven minutes to drain what was left of the corpse. Face now caked with blood; he stumbled back against a tree.

    His eyes were glassier than normal, he looked like he just went on a bender and smoked some premium weed. Taking a closer look, Al leaned down, he was shaking and twitching, his eyes unfocused. ¡°You look a little blood drunk my friend, did you have your fill?¡± He asked as a wide brim smile etched itself across his face.

    The undead snarled at him but didn''t so much as get up. ¡°Woah, I was just making a joke, but you really are drunk.¡± He said while poking the undead creature in the noise.

    Instead of trying to bite his hand off, the vampire just got startled like a child, It reminded Al of poking a baby''s nose. That reaction they have when they realise, they have one. Finding this fellow humorous, he patted him on the shoulder.

    ¡°Welcome to the undead club, it¡¯s a non-stop party of blood orgies and never needing to shit.¡± He stated ironically. ¡°You are one lucky, unlucky bastard. So, chill here, I need to go take a piss.¡± With his hand on the vampire''s shoulder, a faint light shined for a moment in his palm. Satisfied he rose to his full height, while the vampire remained still.

    Walking away to do his business behind a tree, he could hear the vampire try to stumble to his feet and fail miserably. The spell he cast on the man¡¯s body, kept him in place. Satisfied he continued, reaching the tree line and pissing against the bark, he did his business quickly since stuff was going down.

    The spell he cast would not last forever and so he took a quick piss and contemplated his next move. ¡°Guess some bandits, maybe bounty hunters are attacking the camp. I should probably go help, but my magic is on the fritz. I don¡¯t want to rely on the spirits blessing, but alas life doesn¡¯t give us a choice.¡± Finishing his business, he pulled up his trousers and set off to fight someone.

    Casting an eye on the vampire, he estimated the creature would be trapped for a while and moved to the centre of the clearing, he took a superhero pose. Crouching to one knee, channelling every superhero from his childhood, the air whirled around him. Clenching his fists, he felt the energy expelled from his body and with a simple tug, he flung himself into the sky.

    Going airborne, he flew over the forest, casting his searching gaze below noticing the clash of steel and the roar of battle. From a brief inventory, they were being attacked by a large group of bandits. They were not particularly skilled from their shabby armour and a wide assortment of weaponry.

    Their advantage was their numbers against the skilled caravan and inspecting this hallowed field of battle, he noticed two new friends kicking ass and they seemed to be doing well, protecting the caravan. Looking around he finally noticed Felix, he was with his sister, beating back some bandits. She was waving around a frying pan like a baseball bat, she was probably halfway through cooking when they attacked.

    ¡°Fear the mighty frying pan of doom.¡± Al chuckled before launching himself at his enemies.

    Felix was there helping his sister and looked like he grabbed a tree branch, whacking a guy over the head. ¡°If this went any further, my little upire friend will have to expose his nature.¡± He muttered. ¡°I can¡¯t have that.¡± He added, unleashing a wind blade.

    The deadly blade glided gracefully before slicing two bandits in half, they hadn''t even realised they were dead before they keeled over. Their torsos slid to the side, promptly scaring Felix and his sister for dear life. Felix screamed like a little girl, in direct contrast to his rather well together sister. I landed before them, her still brandishing the frying pan like it was a legendary weapon.

    ¡°Nice night huh.¡± He said as if the carnage around them was not even occurring.

    Before he could continue his cool little superhero landing, a blast of fire was thrown in his direction. Reacting on instinct, he covered himself and the siblings in a protective shield. He was not quick enough and was blasted forward. All three met the sky for a single fragile moment, before meeting the carriage''s wood panels, intimately.

    Dazed and confused, Al tried to get his bearings, casting a look at the siblings, they were knocked out cold. Felix was moaning, still conscious, likely thanks to his vampiric constitution. Al¡¯s gaze was blurry, but he could make out the sight of three figures approaching. One was brandishing a fireball in his hand and a deadly gleam in his reptilian eyes.

    He looked human for the most part, except for the eyes and the scales around his cheeks. Al heard only a single sentence, uttered in complete contempt. ¡°Filthy humans!¡± The reptilian bellowed with such fury; his fireball might as well be a manifestation.

    Raising the scorching weapon, he readied to burn the wizard to cinders, the fireball was unleashed and launched itself into its target. Al could see a flaming death approach, ready to end him. Suddenly a towering man moved into the path of the fireball and took the full brunt of the flames. He grunted in pain as the flames licked across his body like hungry leeches. Still, he remained firm and still in defence of others.

    The flames receded and the man''s visage became known, It was James, grinning like an idiot despite the pain. Holding himself up, his head held high, he reached to his belt, withdrawing a vial. The ampule was small, yet he greedily drank the meagre contents.

    The moment he did so, the reptilian fire mage spoke in a rage. ¡°You''re an alchema? I hope you choke on your potions!¡± He screamed, readying another fireball.

    With his spell taking shape, the fire mage ordered his fellow bandits to protect him and they brandished their weapons, an axe and a short sword. Both were not entirely human. One had horns and another had a long tongue like a snake.

    James was not intimidated, instead, he belched, heat radiating outward from his chest and his body shuttered. His skin started turning greyish before cracking like stone, the potion taking effect, he broke into a run. The flustered fire mage instinctively flung his spell at the approaching enemy.

    It was time for a match between fire and stone and despite the situation, James smiled, holding to the knowledge of barrelling them over like bowling pins.

    Al gawked at the sight, wanting even more to get up and get in on the fun. ¡°Let¡¯s get ready to rumble!¡± The injured wizard Al screamed into the sky, a mighty warcry, no one even cared to listen to.

 Chapter 20 - Letéˆ¥æªš Get Ready To Rumble!

    James was confident in his skills and the power afforded to him by stone skin. A welling sense of invincibility churned within his body, he was a lumbering boulder, rampaging downhill. In place of an avalanche, he was a crazed mercenary, running like a madman. The situation unfolded as expected and he practically flattened the three.

    The fire mage was the first to go, his spell barely fazing the lumbering giant and he was hit by a walking semi-truck, travelling at fifty kilometres an hour. If it wasn¡¯t for his natural constitution, he would be red-paste on the grass.

    Instead, he was sent flying into a tree, likely breaking several important bones and his two companions faired less; they were both clotheslined by James'' outstretched arms. Taking their heads off and a crunching sound delivered these poor fellows to the afterlife.

    With his foes defeated, he turned to his fellow companions, noticing the dire straits, he quickly ran over to aid them. ¡°Al my boy, are you hurt? Do you need a potion, I got lots of them.¡± He offered the life-saving elixirs like a frantic peddler of sample wares.

    Al shook his head, instead directing him to aid the downed Joan, glancing at her injured form, Felix fussed over her, his eyes tearing up. Before he could start hyperventilating, Al grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face him, what he saw scared him to his core, concealing him from James, he had the man treat the sister.

    Shifting back to the blubbering Felix, his eyes were blood red and glowing. ¡°Calm down, your vampire is showing.¡± He whispered, blocking the view of anybody nearby.

    Naturally, he didn¡¯t calm down just from words, instead, his breathing grew louder, and his family descended. The visage of a young boy was gone, replaced by a predator. ¡°They hurt her; I''ll kill them!¡± The child vampire proclaimed with all the fury he could muster.

    Al held tighter, straining against the boy''s ever-growing strength. ¡°Get a hold of yourself!¡± He barked, lowering his voice. ¡°There are people watching.¡±

    Luckily this managed to bring him back from whatever darkness was pulling him away, his eyes ceased to glow, and his body no longer heaved. The fangs, once on display and ready to strike, retracted, leaving only the oddly pristine teeth of a human.

    Felix tried to steady himself, but the welling fury bursting out of his chest threatened to drag him back. Looking to Al for direction, glancing back to his sister. ¡°You need to stay here; James will keep you guys safe.¡± Al all but ordered the boy.

    Thankfully Felix ignored the petulant impulse and obeyed, noticing his sister rousing from her slumber, he went to her side. With the two youngsters taken care of, Al turned to James. ¡°Where¡¯s Sally?¡± He asked.

    The towering man, still covered in stone, merely smiled, casting a furtive glance north, Al traced his gaze to where the battle was thickest. Rising from a crouched position, he eyed the caravan guards defending their charges from the horde of bandits. He could make out several phrases as they all charged at each other, like raging beasts. ¡°Death to the impure!¡± One of the axe-wielding snake men bellowed.

    ¡°Die human scum!¡± Some sort of birdman squawked as he parried a sword strike.

    Yet despite all this insanity, another familiar voice could be heard. ¡°Bring it on you sons of whores!¡± Sally taunted, facing three at once. Brandishing her scimitar, she moved with the grace of a ballet dancer and screamed insults like a drunken sailor. ¡°Is that all you limp dicks got!¡± She taunted the mace-wielding beast man.

    The creature that appeared to be half man, half bear roared like an animal, breaking away from his formation, much to his associate''s chagrin. The half-bear lunged at the petite woman, her opening assured, she glided to the left, missing the mace by a hair''s breadth. Twisting around to strike his shoulder, oddly she only inflicted a minor wound before retreating.

    The bear man halted, his fury slowly giving way to reason, realising his target had evaded and delivered a strike. He ordered his associates to surround her, they did so once he gave them proper motivation. The beast established his dominance, striking fear into each of them and then set them to task.

    He grinned like his next meal was at hand and took a step forward, suddenly he stopped, and his rampage ceased. Pain lashed his shoulder, the wound pulsing with heat. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt, fire ran through his blood, scorching his insides. His breath was laboured, his heart pounded in his chest, his eyes blurring, unable to keep focus.

    The pain was enough to bring him to a knee, fear took hold, giving way to pure rage. Instead of flowing blood, black tar-like was seeping out of his wound. His faint magical sensitivity detected something sinister making its way throughout his body. His gaze made its way to the enemy, her smile was all he found.

    ¡°What have you done?!¡± He demanded.

    Sally raised her blade threateningly, targeting each of them, marking their future deaths at her hands. ¡°I¡¯m a witch you dull creature, we curse people.¡± She declared with a degree of sarcasm. ¡°Hell back in the day they burned us at the stake for this shit.¡± She spat.

    Naturally, her enemies didn¡¯t take to this news well, their leader soon hacked up blood, a sign for the others to get out of dodge. They fled like the cowards they were, leaving the cursed fellow to die. ¡°Cowards!¡± He bellowed, seemingly ignoring his eventual death.

    He ignored it so well that he decided to charge with reckless abandon, he raced at his target, coughing up a lung or two on the way. Sally was flustered for a split second, not expecting him to have this much willpower.

    The mace vacated his grip and he went bestia, launching at his foes, claws out, ready to wrend flesh like his ancestors. He was faster than expected for a man his size, catching her off guard, she barely missed the strike. His serrated claws sliced their way through her midsection, blood spewed from the wound as she quickly compressed the injury.

    He turned to his victim, smelling the blood, it''s faint aroma exciting the long dormant animal instincts. He a grin etched its way across hi face, completely ignoring his death throws. Taking a step, ready to strike again, he toppled over with a dull thud, blood evacuating from every orifice.

    Having a slight reprieve, Sally inspected her wound, but before she could examine it, the cowards from before tried to shiv her from behind. Ducking out of the way, narrowly missing the dagger strike she brandished her scimitar and cut the man down. Taking advantage of his overextended strike, eliminating another of her enemies.

    The third arrived, axe raised high, a mad look in his eyes, being only a short distance away, her energy quickly fading and the end seemed near. With death arriving at the hands of a cowardly bandit, she could only laugh.

    ¡°So, this is how I die.¡± She exclaimed in that brief moment between life and death.

    Instead of a rusty instrument of death descending, there was only the sound of wind followed by a dull thud. Looking back, she noticed something obvious, the architect of death was now dead himself, somehow the poor fellow lost his head, literally.

    Looking down at the decapitated head, noticing his expression morphing from rage to confusion and finally going pale. The body dropped, spewing thick red blood all over the grass, naturally, she was confused as to how that poor chap lost a certain important body part.

    Scanning the environment, the answer became apparent, that wizard calling himself Al stood atop a carriage. Cloak billowing in the wind, appearing like a regal hero of the night.

    ¡°Behold, your hero has arrived!¡± The mad wizard announced to everyone in attendance.

    His stature was mighty and towering over everyone, his voice pierced the very fabric of the conflict, rendering peace for only a moment. Now at peak confidence, he continued his monologue. ¡°Your saviour is here, rejoice the innocent and fear me the guilty, for I...¡± Before he could finish, a random face in the crowd, flung an axe at his head.

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    The weapon thrown haphazardly, ungracefully glided through the air and despite the lack of finesse, the snake man that threw it smiled wryly. Likely he thought his skill was superior and he could eliminate a human wizard. Caught off guard, Al barely reacted to the incoming blade of death. Instead of death arriving, he was painfully conked on the head by the axe¡¯s wooden handle.

    ¡°Ow!¡± He bellowed in pain, holding his right eye. ¡°Mother...¡± He attempted a curse, unable to finish.

    The expression he adopted after regaining his vision, seemed like a curse on his enemies and he scanned the field and noticed a snake boy in the corner. Pointing an accusatory finger at the now-dead man. ¡°You, your dead snake boy. I''m coming for you, not even your pathetic gods will protect you from me!¡± Throwing away all pretences of heroism, Al embraced barbarism.

    How did that get through my defensive spells? He wondered internally but was too angry to think.

    Ascending to the sky, he glanced down upon the peasants below, taking the full view into focus and then abandoning the sight, in exchange for the snake boy. The snake man was pale and scrambling to flee, Al only smiled before willing a blade of wind.

    It struck true and severed the man¡¯s leg, eliciting a howl of pain. With that single move, pandemonium resumed, the fighting treading a path of death and destruction. Sally, instead of being horrified as one would think reasonable, embraced the anarchy, yelling at her compatriot. ¡°Healing potion, you insufferable lug!¡± She roared and two seconds later a vial of red liquid was flung into the air.

    Catching it with skill and grace, she chugged its contents like a man dying of thirst. Sucking down the healing liquid, her wounds quickly regenerated and she felt like a million bucks, now free to resume her killing spree.

    ¡°Which one of you bitches is next!?¡± Brandishing her cursed blade, swiping a wide arc across the field, she dared all comers to try and take a piece.

    Naturally, the few remaining were not eager to fight the mad woman flinging around a cursed scimitar. Still, despite their fear, they snarled like beasts and charged. ¡°Death to the humans.¡± They all clamoured as they ran like kamikaze soldiers.

    Matching their insanity, Sally barrelled forward slicing cleanly through the first dim wit she could find. Cutting him across his belly, giving his guts an all-express ticket to the outside world, the beast-man barely had time to descend his war axe. Brought to his knees by the pain, he was quickly taken to the afterlife.

    Dodging a blade strike from her side, she parried the new enemy, her scimitar plunging through his temple and out the back of his head. The wolfman seized up and jerked like an epileptic, likely not realising he was dead.

    Surprisingly the third enemy reached her in a flash, he stepped to the side with inhuman speed and brought down his mace upon her skull. Barely blocking in time, the two weapons collided, managing to lessen the blow.

    With his form now in full view, she noticed his eyes bloodshot and wide-eyed, his mouth was stained with a blue liquid. Glancing to the side she noticed an empty vial. ¡°You''re an alchema, huh.¡± She muttered, not directing the words to anyone.

    The beast-man replied with inarticulate snarls, before finally managing a sentence. ¡°I took the blaze root.¡± He said before chuckling like a madman.

    With those words, her eyes grew wide. ¡°But that will kill you!¡±

    Recalling a conversation with her fellow alchema, her partner in crime James. Blaze root was a hyperstimulant if brewed with various other rare herbs. It could confer various magical properties such as speed, strength and resistance to magic. It also burns out the user and their death is certain. The other name for the brew is the Final Clash.

    Realising this fellow is both super strong and utterly insane, she retreated to make up some distance. This was futile as he immediately leapt forward for another strike. Narrowly dodging the mace, he was only stopped temporarily by a gust of wind striking his side.

    Al flew above the crowd, sending wind blades flying everywhere, now promptly annoyed, the suped-up beast man bellowed to his remaining confederates. ¡°Archers, shoot the flying man!¡± He commanded and they followed suit.

    Several arrows fired from all directions, Al swept his hand across, manifesting a wind barrier to repel them. ¡°I am an air bender bitch!¡± He taunted, attaining peak confidence until a sharp pain penetrated his back. ¡°Ow!¡± Screaming in pain and looking back, noticing the sharp implement embedded.

    Reaching behind and tearing the object of his pain away, the bloodied arrow fell to the ground. Why is my defensive spell not working! He screamed in his head, slowly turning around, his eyes blazing and as quick as thought, he located the object of his ire. A part man, part plant shakily aimed a crossbow, he was terrified.

    By instinct, Al raised his palm, aiming the deadly weapon, with a thought his palm ignited in flame, sending a gout of fire. The blast rendered the shivering crossbowman to ash, scorching the earth and sending the amateur fire mage launching into the sky, the recoil of the spell launched him back.

    Ascending like the Artemis Seven mission, the dragon fire acted as a makeshift jet engine, propelling him into the sky. Screaming at the top of his lungs, the lull in the fight soon ended, recommencing with their bloodshed, just a man made his way to space.

    Sally ignored the fellow reaching orbit and made her way to greet her foe. The beast of a man revealed bloodshot eyes and fixed upon her. ¡°So, I¡¯m guessing you guys are the Legion?¡± She asked.

    The beast grunted before delivering his response. ¡°We are legion, you are abominations.¡± He declared, thrusting an accusatory finger her way.

    ¡°Yeah, like that makes sense, you''re just a bunch of racists with an excuse to kill people, why bother with the charade?¡± She asked, raising her scimitar.

    Returning his mace in kind, he responded. ¡°There is no charade, we are her to purge your kind for the atrocities your disgusting race has committed against us.¡± Moving into a battle stance, he spoke again. ¡°Come at me human, if you dare!¡± He declared with a certain degree of pomposity.

    ¡°Atrocities? What about the atrocities your kind committed in the last war? I heard whole villages were pillaged, women raped, and children condemned to the fire.¡± She listed one crime after the other, brandishing her blade, Instead of retreating she stepped forward.

    ¡°Atrocities we committed in response to your atrocities.¡± He reasoned with a few grunts.

    Tilting her head, she processed that statement. ¡°There is a logic error there I think.¡±

    The words fell on deaf ears. ¡°Enough of this, I will cave in your skull.¡± He declared with a beastly war cry.

    ¡°I see, when logic fails, let the mace decide. Very well, we shall settle the argument with our weapons.¡± Declaring with finality, she braced for attack.

    His advance was fast, faster than she expected, he closed the distance almost instantaneously. His weapon approached from her right, ready to shatter her left temple. Barely ducking in time, her blade reached his exposed chest. Instead of steel meeting flesh, she only managed to slice the air.

    Her foe was quick as the wind, slipping away and out of reach. His speed boggled the mind, her eyes barely registering his movements. Darting left and right he moved in and out of her periphery before striking. Luckily for her, his feral state ensured his strikes were less than accurate.

    Yet it became more apparent that one lucky hit and her life would end. Realising she was outmatched in terms of speed, she made a break for the tree line. The mad beast narrowed his bloodshot eyes, likely confused at her shift in strategy, eventually, confusion made way for the thrill of the hunt.

    With a burst of speed, he launched himself with reckless abandon, closing the distance again in an instant. Raising his weapon with deadly intent, he battered the unsuspecting prey. Instead of steel meeting flesh, the air was the only casualty.

    A split second before the weapon met flesh, Sally fell to the ground, the mace sailed passed her and slammed into a nearby tree. The force behind the swing was immense, embedding deeply into the trunk.

    Stunned by her dodging and his overextension, by instinct he looked down, noticing the ascending blade. Striking him across the face from the cheek to the eyebrow, yet this single wound was accompanied by several slashes to his torso and arms. Weaving between his body parts, Sally guided her blade to every corner of his body, only making superficial cuts that would normally have little effect.

    Once her bloody work was done, she rolled to the side and retreated, ascending quickly, she assessed her foe with cold eyes. The wounds sustained started to blacken and ooze, the curse made quick work of his body.

    Instead of his final death, throes, the beast roared, tearing away the weapon from its imprisonment. His body jerked violently; shaky hands gripped the weapon, a pained look his his eyes. Pain turned to wrath, and he barrelled forward like a reckless bull.

    ¡°Damn this guy has an aversion to death.¡± She exclaimed, readying her weapon.

    The mass of pain and rage approached before suddenly another equal, yet opposite force arrived. Another mass of muscle moved in front of the oncoming enemy, slamming into each other, Sally was momentarily perplexed. Her confusion didn¡¯t last long, the figure came into view.

    ¡°James, what are you doing? I had him.¡± She queried, genuinely annoyed.

    James ignored her outcry of indignation, instead focusing on holding back his foe. The two were locked in a test of strength, his enhanced body withstood the wrath-fueled beast before him. The two sides engaged in an epic tug of war, each side trying to overcome the other.

    Suddenly the beast man jerked in pain, looking down, James noticed the scimitar sticking out of his throat. The sight was accompanied by the smug face of Sally, at the end of the blade. ¡°That¡¯s cheating.¡± He remarked before letting the now-dead beast slump to the ground.

    The two glared at each other, James looked on disappointed, Sally simply smiling as if this was the funniest thing in the world. ¡°I know it''s unsporting, but the guy was a dick.¡± She explained with flawless logic, at least she thought.

    James shrugged, accepting the situation as it was and both turned to the sky. An incredulous look at the human rocket traversing the heavens. ¡°What the hell is up with him?¡± Sally queried, prompting a shrug from all present.

 Chapter 21 - Going Airborne

    The human rocket spent some time flying around like a balloon, quickly losing air. Mid-flight and under extreme stress, an idea formed. It was insane and likely had consequences for the future. ¡°Screw it!¡± He cursed, not giving a crap.

    Focusing on the clear patch of skin on his forearm, a tiny wind blade manifested. Using the air like a pencil, he sliced a diagram into his skin. Blood seeped from every cut; he winced in pain. The sensation was overshadowed by the current situation. Yet the pain was pain, no matter how much endurance you have.

    Once finished, he began muttering in an arcane language. His words prompted the bloodied diagram to glow with iridescent light. ¡°Seal!¡± He finally bellowed just as the diagram began to sizzle and smoke.

    The bloody work seared into his flesh, becoming as permanent as can be. The diagram lit for only a few seconds before winking out. Like clockwork, the gout of flames pouring out of his palm abruptly stopped. The sensation of his magic slowly faded to a trickle until nothing remained.

    With his arm-based rocket now lost its juice. He began a new journey to meet the ground. Of course, he was no fool and immediately accessed his wind magic. Stabilising his fall, he expertly began to float in mid-air.

    ¡°That was not the best solution, but dragon fire to the face is not any better.¡± He remarked to himself, before casting his gaze to the pandemonium below.

    Out of his expectations, the realm below was not a den of bloodshed and killing. It was littered with corpses, yet the fighting had died down. He could see several beastmen and snake people fleeing into the forest. The sight of James holding back an irate Sally was surreal. He could hear her bellowing insults such as cowards, come back and fight.

    She looked ready to run them down and pick them off one by one. Like a sick game, the sadistic rich performed on homeless people. Ignoring the blood-crazed woman, he searched the battlefield for his young friends. Smiling upon finding them safe and sound.

    Promptly flying towards them and settling down. He approached Joan as she was fussing over her brother. An odd sight since as far as he knew, Felix was an immortal day-walking vampire. Shaking his head at the funny scene, strangely warming his heart.

    ¡°Are you guys, okay?¡± He asked, cracking his stiff neck.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Joan huffed while fussing over her brother.

    The elder sister was engaged in a wrestling match to inspect her brothers'' supposed wounds. Felix was trying to dodge these attacks like she had a stake in her hand. Of course, a stake could kill anyone if you shoved it into someone''s heart. It remains uncertain if Felix can survive such an attack. Al just stared for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had never been good with kids, nor had he any reason to try. Alas, he must learn, the only clue towards his goal lay within this little vampire.

    ¡°Stop it, Jo!¡± Felix harrumphed; his limit clearly reached.

    Finding the situation amusing, Al couldn¡¯t help but watch the young man try to squirm out of a loving embrace. Thoughts of his sibling plagued his mind, regrets and musings over actions not taken.

    Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he quickly got back to the task at hand. ¡°It looks like the attack is over. The caravan guards made quick work of the stragglers; we should be safe now.¡± He reassured, trying for an uncomfortable gesture, patting Felix on the shoulder.

    It felt weird the moment he did it, yet it felt like the kind thing to do. Felix seemed to appreciate it and smiled wryly. His face soon frowned, cast to Al''s arm.

    ¡°What happened?¡± He asked.

    Initially confused, Al was taken aback for a moment. Noticing the boy''s gaze, he followed along. He was glaring at the burnt flesh that surrounded the rune etched on his forearm. Shaking his head, he gestured to Felix that it was fine. Suddenly another thought came to the surface. Looking back at Felix and then at the forest. It was like a light bulb of doom was just switched on.

    ¡°Oh crap.¡± Al cursed, realising his blunder.

    Turning back to Felix, he gestured for him to accompany them. Confused, Al assured him it was important, and they had little time. Joan interceded and now all three ventured into the forest. Making their way through the foliage, the trio passed by tree after tree.

    Finally, the pair accompanying him reached their collective limit. They asked in unison. ¡°Where are we going?¡± They questioned at the same time.

    Al frowned; he didn''t really want to tell them but decided he had to. ¡°Going to track down your wayward kid.¡± Like that, he dropped a bombshell. The siblings stopped in their tracks, both flabbergasted. Neither really understood what the hell he was talking about. He realised he hadn''t explained that very well. He stopped mid-stride, and turning around he spoke. ¡°So, Felix, remember that guy that tried to stab you?¡± He asked.

    ¡°You mean the bounty hunters?¡± Felix replied.

    ¡°Someone attacked you?!¡± Joan cut in indignantly, ready to make another furious inspection of her brother.

    Felix waved his hand to placate the tirade to come. It barely worked and shifted her seething glare at Al. The wizard just shrugged, like this was not his fault. In hindsight it kind of was, but then again, they weren''t in a better situation prior. Unless Joan was cool with selling herself like a hooker to those guards. Considering she was underage and with earth-based sensibilities, that did not sit right with Al.

    Deciding the whole truth was best he fessed up. ¡°Well yeah the guy that tried to shiv you, he got back up after dying.¡± Al told bluntly, hitting the point on the head with a hammer. This led to the scheduled gasps of surprise from the pair. ¡°Yes, Felix you are now a vampire daddy, mazel tov.¡± He continued, with mock congratulations.

    ¡°Vampire daddy?¡± They both said in unison.

    Turning back to the siblings, Al spoke. ¡°Well yeah, with the vampires I met, if you make someone with your blood, they are technically your kid or progeny.¡± He explained, deadpanning.

    Felix blinked his eyes furiously, likely trying to comprehend his words. Eventually, he spoke, trying to keep his breathing in check. ¡°I¡¯m a father, but I''m only seventeen!¡± He yelled out.

    Al chuckled, finding this whole thing humorous. Thanking his lucky stars, he hadn''t knocked up some girl back in high school. ¡°Condoms where art thou.¡± He muttered under his breath.

    Felix noticed and turned a perplexed look. ¡°What are condoms?¡± He asked, genuinely curious.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you when you''re older, for now we have a vampire to find.¡± He stated with finality, pushing them to continue.

    Traversing the spooky woods, the kind that would scare any sane individual. They came upon something Al was dreading. A bloodied corpse was sprawled on the ground and not one he recalled. He sighed dejectedly, realising this was all his fault. If he hadn''t sealed away his magic, for a very good reason. That wayward vampire would be still enjoying that tree¡¯s hospitality.

    Reaching the poor sap that got mauled. His frown was turned upside down, it wasn¡¯t some poor farmer or hunter. It was one of the fleeing beastmen. ¡°Thank god, it¡¯s just one of the bandits or the Legion as they call themselves.¡± He declared, gesturing air quotes for effect. ¡°Guess we follow the blood. Damn kids really like to make a mess. Good luck dad, I hear the terrible twos are the worst.¡± He joked at Felix¡¯s expense, though most of his terms and nuances just went over their heads.

    The siblings were confused if they should be offended or just ask what he meant. Alas, Joan was vaguely aware of the teasing and so cut in. ¡°Can you shut up, it¡¯s clear this thing is killing people. You should stop him.¡± She stated obviously and Al had to agree.

    Restarting their forest trek in earnest, they eventually found their quarry. He was not alone and based on the view. He was either having a passionate make-out session with a snake man or draining the bastard dry of all his life juice. Neither sounded like a pleasant evening, but that depends on your tastes.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Approaching quietly as the sounds of tearing and slurping rung in the air. Another sound became prevalent and that was the sound of a twig snapping. Looking down, they saw Felix removing his foot from a freshly broken twig. This alerted the diner, and he turned his nose to the sky. A few sniffs, and a growl and the trio knew they were made.

    Al quickly acted, gesturing the pair to get behind him. Not too soon as the vampire turned, finding more prey. His appearance was not as desiccated as before, in fact, he looked more alive than before. He was still pale but looked human. With one significant difference, bloodshot eyes and claws. Now with the bags of blood in sight, the creature lunged forward. Accelerating faster than any living being could possibly manage. A slight note of fear started to rise in Al''s mind. Flashes of the vampires he had faced, threatened to paralyse him.

    Stamping down that fear with a steeled-toed boot. He raised his palm and directed the wind to blast his foe back. The epic result he expected didn¡¯t come to pass, the vampire deftly dodged the blast. Swiftly manoeuvring around Al and sending his claws at Joan. Turning to find him clutching the girl and ready to sink fangs into her neck.

    Before he could even try, a slender fist hit him square in the jaw. Joan had neither flinched nor screamed, instead, she yelled like a drunken sailor and bunched the fanged monster. ¡°Get off me asshole!¡± She yelled before retracting her fist with a pained yelp.

    The momentarily stunned effect granted her some time, but not much. Al readied his wind magic but hesitated as the blast would send her flying as well. Yet before he could even act, Felix roared furiously.

    ¡°Stop!¡± He bellowed, his voice a lot deeper than normal.

    As if by design, the vampire stopped mid-bite, freezing in place halfway between his meal. Joan was still in his grip, which hadn''t slackened. She struggled within the embrace, trying to extricate herself. Al shifted his gaze back to Felix, noticing a just as perplexed expression.

    An idea dawning, Al spoke. ¡°Felix, tell him to let go of her, like you did before.¡± He suggested.

    Felix thought for a moment, inhaling a deep breath. ¡°Let her go!¡± He commanded, his voice taking on that deeper tone once again.

    Promptly the vampire released his quarry and Joan slinked away. Clutching her wrist and giving the frozen vampire a death glare. She retreated to her brother''s side, glaring daggers at her wood-be attacker.

    The trio halted in their tracks, neither saying a word. Their eyes firmly locked on the frozen vampire in their midst. Breaking the silence, Al was the first to speak up. ¡°Your kid seems obedient, that¡¯s more than any parent can ever ask for.¡± He joked, prompting Felix to shoot back a withering glare.

    Shrugging off the new father''s indignation. Al made his way over, stopping face-to-face with the vampire. He was truly frozen in every sense of the word, stopped mid-attack. Examining him carefully, Alistair leaned in close.

    ¡°What are you doing, are you nuts?¡± Joan admonished.

    ¡°So many have said so.¡± He replied, ignoring her protests. ¡°Woah!¡± He yelled, waving his hands in front of the stone-cold vampire. No reaction, prompting Al to move in close to inspect. ¡°You look much better dude.¡± He commented, passing his gaze across his profile. ¡°Your still as pale as the English, but you don¡¯t look like a decomposing corpse. I guess a good blood orgy is what you needed.¡± He explained, critiquing the vampire''s appearance.

    Shifting his gaze back to Felix, he spoke again. ¡°Tell him to stand up straight and hand me his wrist.¡± He requested and so he did. Once Felix had delivered the order, the vampire did as instructed. Not an ounce of defiance was evident.

    The duo approached cautiously, Joan being the first to speak. ¡°What are you doing?¡± She asked, reaching Al¡¯s side and inspecting the cowed vampire.

    Without turning back, he grabbed the vampire by the wrist, intent on checking his pulse. ¡°A few routine tests, need to check out what kind of vampire we got here.¡± He explained, nodding a few times. ¡°Yep, you are stone cold dead my friend. Looks like a steady gorging of blood, doesn¡¯t bring back your pulse.¡± He commented before proceeding with other tests.

    Waving his hands in front of his face. He tested his ocular response, noticing a lack of pupil dilation. ¡°Looks like he is locked in night vision.¡± He stated, noticing the slight shimmer in his eyes. Moved to inspect his fangs and claws, eyeing them carefully. ¡°I don¡¯t see any noticeable venom, but that doesn¡¯t mean they can''t turn with a bite.¡± He muttered before continuing his examination.

    ¡°Turn with a bite?¡± Felix queried, cutting in.

    Shifting his gaze away from the vampire, he answered his question. ¡°The vamps I met could produce venom that turned humans into lesser vampires. Basically, they bite you, they can turn you into something like them.¡± He explained nonchalantly, eliciting horrified faces. ¡°Of course, they could control their venom, so they didn¡¯t turn everyone they fed on.¡± He further stated, barely reducing their horror. ¡°Well, this one could be different; I mean he might be a day walker like his dad.¡± He stated eyeing Felix with a wry smile.

    ¡°Can you please stop calling me that.¡± Felix pleaded, crossing his arms.

    Al shrugged before agreeing. ¡°Fine, but we have a few more tests to do.¡± He remarked, manifesting a silver cross from thin air. The duo stared; confusion obvious on their faces. ¡°The power of Christ compels you!¡± He bellowed to the frozen vampire, brandishing the holy artefact. Instead of sending the beast scurrying to the depths of hell, the vampire just stood there.

    Confused, Al pondered what he did wrong. Of course, he had not expected it to work, this was merely a theory based on earth-based myth. Yet he was a bit saddened he couldn¡¯t go full Von Helson. Thinking over the problem, he realised his folly. Turning to Felix and requesting him to deliver another command.

    The vampire visibly relaxed his muscles yet remained stationary. ¡°The power of Christ compels you!¡± He said half heartily shaking the crucifix in front of his face. As before, not even a twitch. ¡°Damn the power of Christ sucks, maybe he doesn¡¯t hold sway here.¡± He muttered dejectedly before another idea came to him. ¡°Either of you got some holy jewellery or religious symbol.¡± He asked the pair.

    The siblings looked back confused as all hell. Eventually, Joan withdrew a piece of jewellery from her wrist. Bringing it up to eye level, for Al to inspect. Appearing to be an old and worn hunk of metal with an indent of a swirling wordpool. Attached to a string, it didn¡¯t scream holy relic, but according to her, it was. Inheriting the amulet from her mother. It was consecrated to the water spirit.

    Al thought was dubious if they were truly gods, but a religion existed so why not give it a shot? Taking the amulet in hand, he brandished it the same way. Instead of waving it in front of the vampire''s face. He pressed it against his cheek. ¡°Behold how the beast is burned by the power of our god!¡± He said, pressing the holy relic against the indifferent vampire.

    After realising that now searing pain or holy light was burning his enemy. He lowered the amulet, disappointed that his tests didn¡¯t bear fruit. ¡°I guess crosses and holy artefacts don¡¯t do shit.¡± He spat before passing back the bit of jewellery to Joan.

    She accepted the family heirloom, placing it back on her wrist. ¡°What in the name of the spirits are you doing?¡± Joan asked, voicing the silent question lingering in both their minds.

    Turning back to answer, Al explained. ¡°I had heard vampires had issues with religious artefacts, burned them or repelled them. Turns out that was all bullshit, or these deities didn¡¯t hold sway here.¡± He explained before turning back to inspect the vampire again. ¡°You are a hearty little blood sucker. I guess that will do for now. At least you are obedient, and I guess you can tag along.¡± He declared, eyeing Felix and giving a subtle nod.

    Felix on the other hand frowned, not getting the look. Al didn¡¯t enlighten him and instead pulled out a cloak from thin air. ¡°Thank God the seal only negates rune activation. Passive runes are exempted.¡± He spoke to no one in particular, before handing over the cloak to the vampire. ¡°Tell him to put that on, we need to get back to the group.¡± He stated before heading towards the scattered corpses.

    Felix did so, delivering his command. Instead of changing, the vampire did exactly as instructed. He plopped the cloak onto his head. Before standing dumbly like a puppy, that just did a good job. Reiterating his order, they managed to get him to wear the cloak. Draping the hood over his face, concealing the human features.

    Once done, Felix cast his gaze on Al, noticing the wizard was inspecting the bodies. Cradled in his arms is the cooler, that still housed his blood supply. He could hear Alistair griping about the bloodless corpses. Saying a few choice words along the lines of, greedy leech or hoping the vampire got indigestion.

    They lingered for a short time before Al finished his grim task. Returned to the group with two bags of blood, one full and the other barely even half. ¡°You are a greedy little bastard; all these bodies are tapped out.¡± He said, levelling an accusatory glare at the vampire.

    In response, the vampire belched loudly before smiling. Showing a slight modicum of intelligence until his eyes went glassy and confused. The three looked perplexed for a moment. Quickly the moment faded, and they made their way back to the caravan site.

    On the way, they agreed on the story they would tell the others. Arriving they are greeted by the convoy rebuilding, and many of the injured are given treatment. Sally and James noticed their arrival and quickly made their way. The typical questions, where did you go and who is the new guy, came tumbling forth.

    Al put them at ease with a few somewhat plausible explanations. ¡°I found this guy being attacked in the woods. He is a bit shook up, so we have decided to bring him along.¡± He explained, trying to keep the lies straight.

    Both Sally and James look suspicious and not altogether convinced. Yet after a time they accept that explanation. James steps forward, offering to guide the new guy to the triage. Al declined, explaining how they would take care of him. Still suspicious, they accepted his explanation before asking a question in unison. ¡°So, what was up with the fire show?¡± Both Sally and James spoke simultaneously.

    Taken aback at how in sync they are. Al was suddenly at a loss for words. Noticing their glance at each other, along with the pair of grins. Shaking his head, he thought over his answer, before deciding on a half-truth. ¡°I have always had issues controlling my magic. It''s been getting worse lately... But no worries, I am working on it.¡± He explained, giving a thumbs up.

    Everyone present had puzzled looks, casting their gazes to his odd gesture. Even the vampire was tilting his head, rather adorable, Al thought. Shaking his head, he quickly figured that his gesture was likely unfamiliar. Transitioning to an awkward wave finally dispersing the group. They shrugged, accepting his words, mostly because other events required their attention.

    With everything now in motion, he turned to the new addition to his group. What was he going to do with another vampire? That was his thoughts, yet he relished the opportunity to study a new species. ¡°So much to learn.¡± He muttered, eyeing the vampire with a hungry look. The act seemed to unnerve the previously stoic vampire and he shivered.

 Chapter 22 - Helgos, The Kingdom Of Wizards.

    The trip north was uneventful, following the caravan raid by the so-called Legion. Following that, the caravan made its destination without incident, excluding the odd wheel maintenance. What mostly surprised Al was how calm their new companion was. This psychic control over the newborn vampire that Felix possessed was considerable and absolute.

    He had not even tried to attack or even converse with anyone. Throughout the journey, they determined his feeding habits. They were like Felix. He could go a week without blood and required one bag, maybe two. He didn¡¯t seem happy with the lack of fresh blood, but made no argument.

    They got the impression he didn¡¯t know how to speak, nor possess any memories. Felix attempted to compel him to talk, to no avail. Al theorised that the shock of literally dying and raising from the dead may have affected his memories. During the trip, they convinced the rest that he was sick. Since then, they gave the vampire a wide birth. This was further cemented by Felix, commanding him to cough whenever someone got curious.

    Ever since then, Al had been experimenting on his dilemma. The runes engraved on his body, each meticulously crafted, were not working well. Replacing them would take a lot of effort. The rituals required were long and intensive. Other beings even granted some of them. For now, he has been working on new runes, tailored to this world natural magical field. Making some progress, still a way to go.

    Suddenly, the carriage abruptly halted, sending the trio jerking forward. Aleksander, the name given to the vampire by Felix, hardly stirred. The four turned to the carriage''s window, peering outside. The southern gate had come and went, the barrier between the world and the capital city of Helgos.

    ¡°Guess we are here.¡± Al commented before reaching for the door. ¡°Tell him to keep the hood up. We don¡¯t need him going all crispy.¡± He said, glaring at the vampire, still as death itself.

    Felix nodded before delivering another command. Aleksander made a nod in response. Despite his lack of speech, he seemed to understand when directly ordered by his sire. It was good enough and so they exited the carriage into the light.

    All four descended onto the cobblestone pathway. They were inside the city''s borders after some haggling with the gate guards. The amount of bribery involved in traversing these lands became more apparent every place Al went.

    Approaching the building before them, the establishment made itself known as a middle-class inn. The place was modestly large, likely accommodating many patrons. Hanging on a post just to the left, a sign read the Happy Griffin. Al smirked at the inn¡¯s clich¨¦ name; it was something he had seen in Matesh.

    The group entered, quickly checking in with the aid of the very polite desk clerk. To save on money, we booked only three rooms. Felix and his sister Joan got their own. Aleksander and Al had their own, while James and Sally shared a room.

    Al sent an inquiring eye at the two supposedly platonic companions. Receiving a shrug from James and an eye roll from Sally. ¡°Grow up.¡± She said, bitter yet the slight flush on her face was obvious.

    Not wanting to pry, Al attended his associates to their rooms. Settling in, James and Sally quickly mentioned they had business in the city. Leaving with instructions to meet later tonight. Watching them go, Alistair thought over what he plans to do.

    In conclusion, he headed towards Felix and Joan¡¯s room, the vampire close behind. Felix had commanded him to obey Al whenever necessary. Testing it a few times, he could get the blood sucking fiend to trail behind him. They soon ushered them in after knocking on their door.

    The room was small, with a single bed in the corner, a nightstand and a few chairs. Joan was near the bed, extracting her clothes from her satchel. Felix was pacing around, clearly annoyed. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Al asked.

    The siblings both turned to him. The sister quickly turned back to her satchel, while the brother furrowed his brows in thought. Realising Al may have just walked into some sort of argument between siblings. He had several thoughts of extricating himself.

    He stood still, not saying a word, until Joan spoke up. ¡°You can''t keep him!¡± She argued, scowling at her brother. The scowl lasted for a few seconds before she turned to her satchel, riffling through her clothes again.

    Shaking his head, Felix glanced at Aleksander, giving him those puppy dog eyes. ¡°But Jo, he is like my responsibility. Al said he is my vampire son or something.¡± He pleaded, turning that pleading gaze to Al for help.

    Al shrugged, not really wanting to get in the middle. Joan simply glared at the man before turning back to her brother. ¡°He is a killer. You said yourself after I got it out of you. That man tried to kill you and now... He is a monster.¡± She ranted, pointing an accusatory finger at the stationary vampire.

    He barely even blinked, his hood raised, yet his face was still visible. Porcelain, emaciated skin, along with glowing red eyes, peered back at her. Noticing him, she shrank in fear, unnerved by the luminescent gaze.

    Noticing his sister''s fear, Felix turned to his vampire child. The vampire child fixed his glowing red eyes upon his sister. Gulping audibly, he felt the impulse to command him to stop. Yet something deep down felt it was wrong. He knew that using this power of the man was a violation. Morals conflicted within the young man. Eventually, a decision took shape.

    ¡°Alek, it''s okay. Please calm down.¡± He said, trying to be calm as possible.

    His words reached the vampire, shifting his glowing red eyes upon his creator. They visibly softened once placed on the being that granted him unlife. The pulsating orbs that were his eyes slowly flickered until a dull crimson. His body slumped; his head bowed as if he was ashamed.

    Felix smiled a wide and genuine smile. ¡°You see sister, he is okay.¡± He tried to reassure, barely convincing his sister.

    She scowled, neither agreeing nor trusting in the words of her soft-hearted brother. She knew how kind he could be, even when they were kids. Living on the street, her brother always had a hard time turning away someone in need. That selflessness was both a blessing and a curse.

    She loved him with all her heart. She did trust him; it was just others she didn¡¯t trust. This Al figure, she didn¡¯t know what his game was. It was obvious the man was interested in whatever her brother was. His knowledge was extensive and greater than anything they had come up with. Still, despite her reticence to trust these two, her priorities was her brother. This situation allowed them to leave a messed-up situation, putting them ahead of the hunters on their heels.

    Sighing dejectedly, she shelved her protests for a later date. ¡°Fine, but make sure he tries nothing.¡± She declared, glaring daggers at the vampire.

    Felix beamed a joyful smile. ¡°Of course, Jo, he will be on his best behavior, isn''t that right Aleksander?¡± He queried his vampire. The creature nodded, something he had learnt not too long ago.

    A sudden clap soon pierced the awkward situation. ¡°Well then, that was awkward.¡± Al interjected. ¡°How about we go get some lunch, hell I need a stiff drink?¡± He offered, further commenting on his lack of alcohol throughout the trip.

    Wrapping his arm around Alek¡¯s shoulder, Al gave a cheeky grin at the confused vampire. Inspecting his sudden shift in expression, he beamed happily. ¡°Hey, looks like you can make a face other than indifferent stoicism or I''m going to eat you.¡± The words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Alek just stared back, a frown on his face. The room eventually fell into silence, and only Joan''s sigh broke the quiet.

    A few minutes later, the four sat around a table. Waiting for the busy waitress to stride up to their table, eventually. The inn was packed with people, and all of them were feeling merry. The drinks were flowing, and the cheer was clear.

    Stolen story; please report.

    Looking around at the sea of inebriated faces, Al frowned. ¡°There is many people here. I wonder what''s going on?¡± He queried no-one in particular.

    ¡°Forget the drunkards. We need to stay focused.¡± Joan interjected, drawing the gazes of all seated. ¡°What? That¡¯s why we are here right. On a mission to do whatever. In fact, what are we doing, Al?¡± she droned on, shifting the question to Al.

    Feeling surprised, he felt a mild fluster. His intentions were not exactly humanitarian, but neither were they malicious. He thought for a moment, gathering his plans, methods, and overall goals.

    Before he can speak, the waitress finally broke free from some rowdy customers and reached their table. She was a pretty brunette, with a freckled face, and appeared to be in her early teens. From the looks of the male patrons, she was going to either get attention or get good tips. Likely, since she seemed to handle the situation well enough. Kept a smile, hiding her displeasure under a mask of politeness.

    Arriving at their table, she kept a smile long enough to ask for their order. Al simply ordered drinks. Two alcoholic beverages that reminded him of scotch for himself and Alek. Some sort of soda type drink for the minors.

    Ten minutes later, everyone had a beverage. Al realised after a glance that Alek¡¯s drink will remain untouched. Being undead, he was limited to a diet comprising a certain red liquid. Leaving him alone as having a drink is good for appearance. He shifted his gaze to the youngsters.

    ¡°Your query is understandable. I have been rather cagey on the plan.¡± He explained.

    ¡°Cagey?¡± Joan asked, puzzled.

    ¡°Meaning I¡¯m not very expressive and keep things to myself.¡± He further explained, trying to keep in mind that idioms of his world may not translate. "Regarding the plan, my agenda is my own." But I can tell you I plan to travel to the Ruins of Nosfera and perhaps the Vupire Mountain range, further north.¡± He confessed.

    Joan narrowed her eyes, but it was her brother that spoke first. ¡°Why do you want to go there?¡± He asked, very curious.

    Thinking it over, Al weighed the pros and cons of spilling his guts. Deciding on delivering a varnished form of the truth, he replied. ¡°I am a student of history of an arcane nature. I have a theory about the origins of your brother''s people and wish to travel north to prove it.¡± He explained, eyeing the flustered Felix.

    The sister frowned, trying to digest his words. ¡°My brother''s people. What do you mean by that? Also, what do you intend to do with my brother?¡± She shot back, narrowing her gaze.

    He thought over her words, choosing those of his own carefully. Once he planned his response, he did so. ¡°That is a complicated answer. The short version is I wish to study vampire history. In his case, the history of the Upire, as they are called. Your brother is a unique individual and most likely connected to the long history.¡± He answered, trying to satisfy her curiosity. ¡°What I intend for him is an exchange of knowledge. I will teach him everything I know to manage his lifestyle. I have had experience with similar entities and any knowledge I discern about his kin, I will share. All I ask is cooperation when we arrive north, so I may study the past.¡± He continued.

    She thought for a moment, trying to come up with a response. ¡°Is that all you want?¡± She asked, still suspicious.

    ¡°Yes, for now, a better question, however, is what do you want, I mean, both of you?¡± The question seemed to take the siblings aback.

    It was doubtful either of them really thought about their overall goals. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She said frantically, as if she had finally realised that it was true. Her brother reached over, placing a comforting hand. ¡°We have just been living from day to day, surviving. I don¡¯t think either of us thought really hard about it.¡± She further explained, casting a longing gaze at Felix.

    ¡°Well now, you both can think of it. Let me know what you come up with.¡± Al stated with a sincere smile.

    The churning of her thoughts was clear. Biting her lip, the frantic motion of her flittering gaze. Every one of these observations showed intense thought and consideration. Eventually, her sight settled upon her brother. The gaze was soft and warm. Though initially flustered, Felix smiled back.

    From what Al could see, the two were close, as only family could be. It warmed his heart for only a moment. Reminding him of the family he left behind and the loved ones he continues to search for.

    Soon after this tender moment occurred, a loud gurgle resounded from the left. All three shifted their gazes to the vampire in their midst. He appeared to be exactly as he did before: stationery and stoic. The only difference was the slight arch in his back and the now glowing red eyes. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out what was wrong.

    The look that plastered across the undead face was clear as day. Hunger and not for a nice grilled steak, this hunger was for blood, the very blood flowing in the veins of everyone in attendance. The psychic link he shared with his sire, Felix, only held him back. Still, despite that link, he was clearly struggling against the mental restraints.

    ¡°Why are you hungry now? You just fed a couple of days ago?¡± He said indignantly and a little worried.

    The vampire didn¡¯t answer, just stared off into the distance. It was quite clear he was eyeing the patrons like they were having a happy meal. This would not do, and so Al begrudgingly acted. ¡°You''re such a little glutton.¡± He muttered, reaching across the table. Taking his mug, he downed the bitter contents. ¡°Oh, smooth.¡± He said, appraising the drink. The taste was smoky and a little sweet, akin to scotch with some sort of sweetener added for flavour.

    Reaching down below the table, he manifested a blood pack from thin air. The act prompted the siblings to look around frantically, expecting to be noticed. Al gave both scathing looks, telling them with his eyes to chill out.

    Emptying the blood into the mug, he presented the beverage to his companion. Alek¡¯s eyes gleamed hungrily at the offering. Still, despite his needs, he gave a quick glance to Felix. It was subtle and seemed more like a non-verbal request for permission. Al had noticed this impulse; it looked a tad co-dependent on him. Understandable considering Alek had no memories, a drive to drink blood and a psychic connection to a teenage vampire.

    Felix nodded his permission. Soon after, the blood drink was in the vampire''s hand. Instead of gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. Alek merely stared at the mug, as if the depths contained the secrets of the universe. Al noticed the peculiar action, tilting his head. Quickly he grew bored, shrugged it off, and drank.

    Before he could even take a sip. Alek reached forward, clanking his blood-filled mug against the scotch filled one. Following that, he raised his mug in the air. ¡°Helgos!¡± He bellowed a chant, prompting the room to respond in kind. Mugs rose, and the room became even more lively. Like clockwork, everyone with a raised mug drank at the same time. Downing the blood in one go, Alek slammed the empty drink onto the table.

    The rest of the table was stunned. They had never even heard a peep from the amnesiac vampire. Yet give him a mug of blood and a bar to chant in. Words finally slipped from his undead form. ¡°Turns out the guy needed a beverage and a merry bar to get him talking.¡± Al commented, presenting his drink and nodding.

    Alek oddly smiled back, raising his empty drink in kind. He smiled, revealing fangs, causing the table to scramble quickly to conceal the inhuman features. He got the hint, closing his mouth and returning to his old stoic self.

    ¡°He has really got to work on subtlety.¡± Al commented, sneaking a peek at his periphery. Neither noticing any curious looks or horrified faces, he turned back. "If he gives away the game, we are royally screwed. Those vampire hunters called themselves the order of Pyrus. From what I gather, that totally sounds like fire worshipping templars. If that is the case, they are likely state sanctioned exterminators.¡± He further explained.

    Felix frowned at that last part; a twinge of annoyance sprang loose. ¡°Exterminators, that makes us sound like a plague.¡± He said to himself, not really directing the question.

    Cocking his head to the left, Al guided the attention of the pair to the blood sucking monster beside him. ¡°Are you sure about that Felix?¡± He queried, giving him the once over.

    The teenager vampire took offence and a lot. ¡°Hey that¡¯s not fair. He was an accident.¡± Replying indignantly. The words prompted a shy glance exchanged between vampire and sire. ¡°Alek, I didn¡¯t mean that, you know...¡± He stuttered, looking down in shame.

    ¡°Accident?¡± Alek grumbled; his head tilted to the side.

    Wrapping his arm around the perplexed vampire, Al turned to his ear. ¡°It¡¯s okay my boy, daddy just forgot the condom and out popped his minor miracle.¡± He gestured to the fully grown and adult creature of the night before glancing back at Felix.

    The siblings revealed wildly different expressions. Felix had his face in his hands. Al may have taken the joke too far. Joan is one half angry, one half perplexed. ¡°Shut up, Al, and what the spirits is a condom?¡± She chided, before asking a question.

    His eyes widened, perplexed, before making way to a cheeky smile. ¡°Oh, you poor innocent child.¡± He joked, plastering a smug smile on his cheeky face.

    The action only further confused Joan, casting her perplexed gaze between the three men. Shaking her head, she shifted the topic. ¡°We are getting off track.¡± She added, trying to steer the conversation.

    The two men nodded, agreeing with her statement. Alek followed suit, likely copying the gesture. ¡°Quite right, dear Joan, we are indeed going off topic. Regarding the agenda, I plan to query the explorers collective, specifically on anything they know about the north-eastern ruins.¡± He explained.

    Once the ruins were mentioned, Felix perked up. He was indeed eager to learn about his people and their mysterious origins. Once they established their agenda, the rest of the conversation lacked excitement. The table descended into small talk, as they dined on the food served soon after. The lovely waiter returned, took their orders and the food arrived sometime later.

    Al ordered a simple bowl of soup again, sprinkling some garlic powder. After heaping a decent amount into his bowl and ready to dip the paired bread. He had a funny little thought. Turning to Alek, he gave the confused vampire a knowing smile. The vampire didn¡¯t have a meal before him. Al made up some lies about a special diet.

    Smiling mischievously, he reached over and sprinkled some powder on the back of his hand. Alek¡¯s gaze shifted between the modest collection of garlic sprawled over his hand and the knowing gaze of the wizard. Al glared down, expecting something to happen. A minute went by, and nothing happened. Sighing, he shrugged, muttering something about myths being bullshit.

 Chapter 23 - The Bard

    The siblings shared a meal, some roasted chicken, and a side of potatoes. Al offered to purchase separate meals, but they declined. It seemed like some sort of ritual between the two. A truly melodic sound soon accompanied their meal. It was coming from the simple wooden stage, deeper into the inn.

    Casting their collective gazes to the sound''s origin. They noticed a figure seated before his audience. He was playing an instrument that resembled a harp. Three facts were obviously apparent. The first was that the man was handsome, as in far more handsome than the norm. Dark piercing eyes, perfectly parted brunette hair, along with a face that belonged on a romance novel. Perfectly symmetrical features, not to square jaw, yet not to round.

    The second fact was composing the audience, almost entirely composed of women. They were gazing up at the man, like he was the lead singer of a boy band. The men seated behind the wide-eyed women were clearly not happy. They scowled at the man like he was scum in their eyes.

    The third fact was of greater importance. The man, musician or bard, Al, was not up on the terminology. He was indeed playing a bit of music and singing along. What he was singing was most intriguing. Not some song about an epic battle centuries ago, nor a love ballad about some princess.

    It was a song Al recognised. Love Me Softly by Elvis Presley, a personal favourite of his. He didn¡¯t know how this song came to appear in this world. Given existing summoned heroes, it''s possible one of them brought it over. It was pleasant to hear, reminded him of his younger years with his family. The road trip to San Bernardino, his father, used to blast the greatest hits all the way through.

    Leaning back in his chair, sipping his drink, enjoying the nostalgia. The rest of the table shifted their focus. Felix was curious, yet Joan flushed visibly. Was he that handsome? Al thought, eyeing Joan with a frown.

    He wanted to chalk this up to the normal teenage girl crush thing. But given the state of the women around this place. He checked on things, couldn¡¯t hurt. Reaching below the table, manifesting an old pair of fake prescription glasses. Putting them on, he gave the room the once over. Through the filtered lens, the situation became clear.

    A strange aura, reminiscent of a pinkish mist, pervaded the room. It centred around the bard on stage, reaching out, only to be inhaled by those of the female persuasion. The men inhaled this mist, only for it to fizzle out around them. He thought of a charm spell. It was clearly some sort of magic. Yet he could not detect any spells in effect. Either magic was very divergent from his own in this world, or the bard was naturally emitting these effects.

    It was an intriguing puzzle, something he would love to uncover. Given the current time constraints, he had little time to investigate this. Perhaps this fellow was up for a chat after he finishes the set. The table settled into a routine of glancing back at the singer. Eventually turning around and permanently taking in the show.

    The siblings both had varied looks. Joan was going all fan girls, while the music, less the man, entranced Felix. Al enjoyed the singing, the man had talent. He wondered if his enjoyment resulted from that entrancing aura he emitted. Observing it making its way to him, he discreetly sent an air current, dispersing it.

    In that moment, he realised it was a physical phenomenon, along with a magical one. Several theories raced through his mind. One stuck out and so he decided on several tests. Wiping up another air current, he guided it towards their resident undead. As expected, it didn¡¯t even bother the man without a heartbeat or a need to breathe.

    With this experiment a success, he sent the current towards Joan. Circulating an air current around her head. Dispersing the phenomena again, he noticed an immediate response. Shaking her head as if coming out of a daze, she looked puzzled for a second. Removing the protective shield, the phenomenon returned, and the dazzled look came flooding back.

    It was indeed some sort of pheromone, possibly magically charged ones. If that was the case, what would that make the bard? These thoughts flittered through his mind, yet he could not divine an answer. So, he waited and listened. The bard moved through Elvis¡¯s greatest hits like one hell of a cover band.

    he reached the end of his music set. Once that was obvious, Al enacted his plan. It was a move he had tested several times during the ride up here. He recalled the amusing pranks he pulled on his fellow caravan patrons. Projecting his voice through the air and whispering into the ears of distant individuals. Using this same skill, sending a message to the bard. ¡°Greetings, quite the trick you have there. Your charm is downright supernatural.¡± Whispering, those words carried along the wind.

    Before he can rise, the bard''s head tilted to the side, listening. After a few seconds, his gaze cast frantically across the room. Noticing the adoring fans before settling on Al. Raising his mug in greeting, before downing its contents. The bard narrowed his gaze. It appeared as if he was contemplating something. Likely surprised or concerned, he shook his head before exiting the stage.

    He didn¡¯t immediately come over to the table. He had fans to placate and women to swoon. Both sides exchanged a few glances, remaining indifferent to each other. The night wound down, patrons left the inn or retired to their sleeping arrangements. Felix, Joan left some time ago, trailed by Alek.

    Soon after, only Al with a fresh mug of semi-scotch, a few drunk patrons, and the bard remained. He tore himself away from some adoring fans, promising them a private showing. The mesmerised woman was beautiful and noticeably single compared to the rest. The women that had male or female companions had quickly exited. It was likely they felt threatened by the bard''s charm.

    He arrived at the table, his gaze inspecting the second mug. Al pushed the beverage forward, offering a seat. He took the offer with a smile and descended. Raising the mug to his nose, he gave it a quick sniff. The scent delighted his face and soon he was taking a long gulp. ¡°Neat trick you can do.¡± He commented, alluding to Al''s prior feat of magic.

    The wizard chuckled at the bard, finding the statement ironic. ¡°You''re not so bad yourself. I have never seen magic like that.¡± He complimented, genuinely perplexed at how the bard was doing it.

    The bard found his words odd and so answered the stranger. ¡°Magic? I am not performing any spells. I am no wizard.¡± He explained.

    ¡°Really, does that mean you do that instinctually? Some sort of charm magic you can enact by will?¡± Al queried, becoming interested.

    The bard thought it over before replying. It might be instinctual, but it''s not a charm spell. I wouldn¡¯t know the first thing about magic. I never had an interest in it.¡± He explained further.

    The answer confused Al, if this man had no formal or informal magical training. It would mean that this was a biological trait or a magical trait. Thinking over the facts laid out before him, he realised two things. First, this bard was likely not human, at least not completely. Second, whatever he is, they can emit some magically charged pheromone to influence people.

    His own history on Matesh had him encounter many species. The only ones he recalled that could influence people were sirens. Although they had some differences, they bore a resemblance to the beings of Greek myth. They didn¡¯t dwell in lakes or oceans and had no connection to sea life. They can charm both men with their voices. Manipulating the minds of mortals required poetry, not song. The Nel-Tamun, they were called. It meant the lurer of men in the old tongue. Al met a few. Those encounters varied from hostile to pleasant.

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    Al found it challenging to determine the species of this fellow. This only made him more curious. Along with a voracious appetite for magic, his hunger for knowledge was even greater. He felt an itch in his right hand to document the encounter. His bestiary was one of the few treasures he kept from Matesh. He filled it with every piece of magical knowledge he had gained. Spells, runes, descriptions of monsters and species he had encountered.

    Felix was quite the boon, his upire race filled a few pages. Alek did as well, his undead sub race now classified as Nosferatu, named after the undead from earth myth. Another species that originated in Matesh bore resemblances to both the Upire and Nosferatu. The chapter on the Von-Tyr, as they were called, is quite extensive. Perhaps he will let Felix read it someday, perhaps not.

    For now, a new species intrigued him. Whatever this discount Elvis was, Al wanted to know. Still, another fact pulled his interest away. ¡°I assume you know about the king?¡± He asked, a cheeky smile on his face.

    The bard returned in kind, replying in a faux-Elvis impression. ¡°Your damn right I know about his majesty, the king of rock and roll.¡± His words reminded Al of those Las Padros Elvis impressionists. Not that bad. ¡°If that is the king you are referring to?¡± He left the question hang in the air.

    Nodding in affirmation, Al confirmed that was indeed the monarch he spoke of. ¡°Your Heartbreak Hotel was not bad. But damn, did Love Me Tender hit me right in the feels?¡± He complimented.

    The two raised their drinks in salute, taking a sip in unison. ¡°I''m guessing you''re not a local, or perhaps you have met a traveler of sorts?¡± The bard queried, alluding to something.

    ¡°I''ve traveled.¡± He answered vaguely.

    The bard mulled over that response, likely thinking on the pros and cons. Eventually, he decided. ¡°I see. Well then, I am most interested in you. As you are to me, at least I expect so.¡± He remarked, eyeing his opposite. His table companion nodded, prompting him to continue. ¡°I suppose introductions are in order. The name is Arthur Belphegor Collins. You may call me Arthur, please to meet...¡± Letting that final word hang, following his introduction.

    Al mulled over the name provided. It was both what he expected and not so. ¡°Alistair Abraham Klark, call me Al. It is a pleasure.¡± He returned, introducing an outstretched hand.

    Catching on, Arthur clasped hands in a very earth-like handshake. The two nodded, an unspoken understanding formed between them. ¡°So, Al, I take it you are one of the so-called heroic trinity the Empire is harping on about?¡± He asked, a little sarcastically.

    ¡°Not even close.¡± Al replied vaguely.

    This caused Arthur to pause and think over his next few words. Leaning back in his chair, he chuckled, sipping his drink. ¡°Are you familiar with the term quid pro quo? Specifically, I ask you an answer, you ask I answer.¡± Arthur inquired, getting a nod in return. ¡°Excellent, I will start. How did you get to this world?¡± He asked, starting a little tit for tat.

    ¡°Through a summoning spell. My turn, what are you?¡± He answered simply, before inquiring.

    ¡°I am merely a humble bard. Did the wizards of Helgos summon you?¡± Glancing around conspiratorially.

    ¡°No. What species are you, then?¡± He countered.

    ¡°I am a flesh, a blood human, mostly.¡± Arthur answered, trailing off with a smile. "How did you get the name Abraham?" He questioned, changing the topic.

    "It''s from the Bible. What about you? Belphegor is the name of a demon, if I''m not mistaken."

    Arthur''s eyes widened. "You know about uncle Belly?" He asked, surprised.

    "Uncle? Are you inferring you are related to a demon from biblical myth?" Al queried.

    Taken aback, Arthur felt flustered and knew he had just goofed. "Well, I mean... Um." A Loss for Words, he tried to find them.

    "So, your part demon and with those weird pheromones you would be... No way, you''re not an incubus, are you?" He deduced, a grin slowly manifesting. "I right, aren''t I? Oh, I''m going to fill an entire chapter on you." He muttered, prompting the incubus to stare, worried. "Never mind that. Still, I am intrigued. I knew demons existed, but not the notorious sex demons of myth." He spoke, near giddy with excitement.

    "Were not just sex demons, that''s very reductive." He replied, genuinely offended.

    ¡°I apologise. Perhaps you can enlighten me?¡± Al requested, leaning under the table and pulling out a worn journal. ¡°Let¡¯s have some privacy shall we?¡± He remarked, waving his finger in a circular motion.

    Constructing a barrier around the table, muffling sound. The skill was one he became proficient in during his long trek north. A few weeks with a caravan, boredom setting in and he was never one for idle hands. Sound barrier in place, they began their dialogue in earnest.

    ¡°Incubus, humanoid species related to extra-dimensional demons. Wait, your demonic ancestors, are they natives?¡± Jotting down some notes, he queried the flustered incubus.

    ¡°I heard myths. They were from the demon realm.¡± He answered, not sure why he did so.

    "Not locals." Good to know. It would make sense. There are myths about demons, even on Earth.

    ¡°You said you are mostly human?¡± He asked rhetorically. ¡°That would mean you are some sort of hybrid, cambion perhaps?¡± The question was not rhetorical.

    Still not understanding why he was answering. Their quid pro quo had suddenly broken down with this man''s rapid-fire questions. ¡°Um, my father was human, so I guess so.¡± He answered. ¡°Wait a minute, why am I telling you this? What about our quid pro quo?¡± He asked, almost indignantly.

    Al looked up from his writing. He had an abashed expression. ¡°Oh yes, I apologise. But perhaps we can play a different game.¡± He suggested, withdrawing another article from thin air. Placing the rectangular object on the table and pushing it forward. ¡°This is an MP3 Player. The MP3 Player contains the greatest hits of many artists from the 50s to the early 2000s. ¡°Now, if you would answer a few questions, this marvel of earth technology can be yours.¡± The offer was clear, and Arthur was indeed interested.

    He glanced at the MP3 player, not surprised; in fact, he seemed eager to get it. ¡°You have yourself a deal. What do you want to know?¡± He answered almost immediately, reaching out to grab his prize.

    Al let him claim it, but not before retracting the spare batteries. He smiled at the eager incubus, pulling the package away. ¡°Let¡¯s begin. How about your ancestry? Your father was human yes, your mother was a demon, I assume?¡± He asked.

    ¡°She was a succubus, yes; my father was a wizard or a sorcerer by Ikarus standards.¡± Arthur replied, his gaze crawling over his new toy.

    ¡°Interesting, so your mother is a demon. Does she feed on sex or life force like the myth says?¡± He inquired, scribbling a few notes down.

    Shaking his head, Arthur looked annoyed. ¡°I suppose she can do that. But there is so much more to being succubi or incubi.¡± He spoke indignantly, trying to correct an injustice as he saw it. ¡°I suppose the best way to explain it is we can feed on many energies? The emotional spectrum is one of them, life force is another and yes, we can feed on sex.¡± Explaining his people''s nature, he begrudgingly accepted some truth in the myth.

    ¡°Does that mean it is a preference for incubi?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Not really a preference, but you can call it that. We have our leanings towards what is the most nutritious, if that makes sense.¡± Explaining, he shrugged.

    ¡°And what leanings do you have, perchance?¡± Smiling, he asked the obvious question.

    Arthur didn¡¯t want to answer. His embarrassment was plain as day. ¡°Well, I mean, it¡¯s nothing as crass as simple sex. I think I have a far more discerning palate, to feed off the lover as she feeds from me.¡± He spoke, letting a little of the poet come out. ¡°Still in a fashion, yes I feed from my lovers. I think they are most satisfied with what I provide.¡± He smiled, giving a slight wink.

    Al felt taken aback for a single second. He knew in that moment, if he were to swing that way, this guy would be at the top of his list. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze to the journal, writing in earnest. ¡°So, I guess you use your unique pheromone in your performance. It is most potent for those that don¡¯t notice. Impressive indeed.¡± Delivering a compliment, Arthur nodded, accepting the praise. ¡°Given your statement of your lineage. I am curious though, does your mother still have residence in this world?¡± He asked, eminently more curious.

    Tilting his head, he thought over the question. Eventually, he decided and replied. ¡°Yes, my dear mother is still in residence. Last time I saw her, she had returned to her homeland of Akathulu.¡± Caressing the MP3 player, he dropped the name of the apparent land of demons. Noticing Al''s confusion, Arthur explained. ¡°Ah yes, you are not a local. The forest of Akathulu is the ancestral domain of the succubi. It is their sovereign realm. It is not an official member of the federation, but it borders the capital of Demonus, to the southwest of it and north of the republic.¡± Explaining the geo-political situation, the location was now marked on Al''s internal map.

    As he thought about the situation, he felt satisfied. At least for now, he satisfied his curiosity. With many more pages to fill, the two settled into a more leisurely chat. They both traded comments on their respective situations and wrote a few more paragraphs. Arthur did not mind being the subject of study. Al handed him an enchanted piece of parchment, instructing him to write when he needs batteries so they can make a new deal.

    In the end, the two parted company. Arthur had ladies in need of his attention. While Al had sleep to catch up on. They exchanged final pleasantries, Arthur stating he will travel the Empire, singing his songs. Al would travel north to discover the mysteries. The night ended with two men smiling and wishing each other well.

 Chapter 24 - Heroic Call To Action

    ¡°They want us to do what?¡± Jasmine queried sternly, glaring up at the royal knight.

    The sounds of training resounded in the background. Both Peter and Lucy slinging magic all around the training area. They were outside, in a soft meadow under the glow of the sun. Ice and fire swirled around them as they tested their powers to the fullest.

    "Please blessed one, the emperor himself is making this request."

    Jasmine huffed, clearly annoyed and shaking her head. ¡°Fine. Where are we going?¡± She asked, accepting the decree.

    The knight sighed, revealing saddened eyes. He apologised with a single look, a gesture Jasmine both noticed and accepted. ¡°Sorry blessed one, you and the other blessed are being sent north to the Kingdom of Helgos.¡± He explained, nodding his head.

    Her mood shifted ever so slightly; her expression became contemplative. ¡°I see.¡± Is her only reply, casting her gaze to the others. ¡°You may call me Jasmine. No need for the title.¡± She said, not taking her eyes off her two companions. The knight sputtered, ready to protest as he so enjoyed doing. Sensing the religious tirade to come, Jasmine turned back, holding up a finger to silence him. ¡°I insist.¡± She added, not placing the knight further on edge.

    Ultimately, he accepted, bowing low and taking his leave. Upon leaving the grounds, the stoic and proper Jasmine creaked her neck. The weeks that passed on this world were both amazing and concerning. She would let none of that show, however, the sentiments of her father were far too strong for her. ¡°Never let others see what lies within.¡± She repeated like a mantra.

    Once she finished her internal pep talk, she turned to her involuntary companions. She was not happy to be stuck with a high school nerd and the little terror that was Lucy. Both their personalities were in stark contrast to her own cold and calm demeanour, honed after years of practise. These two lacked any such discipline, yet never lacked for enthusiasm.

    The allure of magic powers was a tantalising hook these Arintians loved to dangle. They whisked her away to Arintia, the name of the planet. Instead of her studies and training under her dad''s tutelage to take over the company. She was training with a couple of high schoolers in using spirit magic.

    Not that she minded. The power she wielded was intoxicating. No matter how stoic and controlled someone can be. She doubted anyone could resist revelling in that feeling of power. She, occasionally, indulged, of course, she would never admit it.

    Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she turned to her companions. Her gaze causes them to cease their antics. Peter had become quite skilled with his water magic. Able to transform bodies of water into ice successfully. He is currently freezing cups of water, sharpening them into darts and sending them flying at a tree. Besides the other abilities within the field of water bending. His ability to breathe underwater was most impressive. He remained submerged in a lake for over an hour, ascending after his body turned into a prune.

    Lucy had scared her companions. Ever since her powers manifested, the cadence of her voice and her mannerisms shifted. Right now, she was literally destroying a tree with an all-consuming fire. She performed this act of arson by getting angry at it. She had evolved into a little girl with a literal fiery temper.

    ¡°Peter, Lucy, I have news.¡± Jasmine announced, pulling their attention to her.

    Both dropped what they were doing, arriving before her soon after. Peter was levitating ice cubes in his palm, twirling them around in mid-air. Upon further inspection, someone had carved them to resemble dice. Jasmine ignored this if she made any comment. Peter would go into another explanation of his favourite game. Labyrinths & Wyverns, or L&D for short. It was a testament to her patience and memory that she even kept the term.

    ¡°So, are we finally going to do some hero stuff?¡± Peter asked, throwing one of the ice cubes into his other hand. The ice halted just above, rotating in a circle.

    Jasmine had noticed his interest in the ice sculptures. Apparently, he had been trying to craft figurines from his favourite game. She didn¡¯t understand his obsession; it was a waste of time in her eyes. But then again, few had such a strict upbringing as hers. Perhaps in another life, with another family, she would appreciate such distractions.

    ¡°I haven''t got the details yet. You will know when I know.¡± She explained, casting her gaze at Lucy.

    The girl had been staring at the cupped flame in her palm. Jasmine had seen her talking to the fire when no one was looking. She was worried that the young girl had developed a mental illness. That was until she learned how some spirit magi could speak directly to spirits. It was a rare case and the younger the magi, the more attuned they were.

    She let Lucy be. It made her happy, so there was no reason to intervene. With all those thoughts aligned, she turned the pathway leading to the palace. Gesturing her companions to follow, they made their way towards the stoic guards. The steel plated behemoths fell into step with their charges.

    Soon after, they ushered into an unfamiliar room in the palace. The trio found themselves face to face with four individuals. An unfamiliar wizard wearing the typical garb of their kind. He was standing in front of an archway, set into the centre of the room. Besides him were the three individuals charged with the guidance and protection of the heroes.

    The first was Halmar Uchena, the swordsman and spirit magi of the wind. He gave a slight nod to Jasmine, a person he was acquainted with. Jasmine replied, keeping with the polite etiquette she observed.

    Next to Halmar was Elisara, the witch and spirit magi of water, respectfully. They assigned her protecting and guiding Peter as he mastered his skills. Last, and situated to the far left, was a newcomer. Unlike his two comrades, he was neither a wizard nor a spirit magi. In fact, he was a bit of both. His name was Frederik, and he was a peculiar imperial knight. He spoke little to the other heroes, but was always lively with Lucy.

    Jasmine saw him as the fatherly sort. It made her feel things for just a moment. Quickly letting go of the distraction, she turned her attention to her own bodyguard. ¡°Halmar, what is going on?¡± She asked.

    ¡°We will take a portal to Helgos. The capital city of Erataus has a spot of bother.¡± He explained, using a somewhat British idiom.

    Jasmine ignored the statement, filing it away as something to consider. ¡°What kind of bother are we talking about?¡± She queried, casting her gaze across the four assembled.

    It was Elisara that spoke, her melodic voice reaching all present. ¡°Helgos has always had issue with the crown. They were once independent and had a far greater wizard population. Insurgents are likely drumming up chaos. So, we need to show the people that the heroic trinity is alive and well.¡± She explained clearly and carefully.

    Understanding the situation immediately, Jasmine nodded. Casting her gaze to her comrades, she could see Lucy with her eyes wide and Peter downcast. He was probably disappointed it wasn¡¯t some epic quest. She was fine with the situation; it had only been a few weeks and rushing things was unwise.

    Agreeing upon the answer, the group made their way to the archway. The wizard to the side had finished his preparations and began muttering indistinct words. They had that whole wizard quality about them, as if multiple people spoke at the same time. The act enraptured Peter. He was always partial to the wizards.

    During his time here, he had pestered every wizard he met. Asking about cantrips, spells or whatever they were called. Jasmine had little interest. She preferred to keep her mind sharp and vigilant. Her powers were a boon, but she knew everything had strings. Shaking her head, she cast her gaze back to the now shimmering portal.

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    In a flash, the archway glowed an iridescent blue, filling the centre with swirling energy. Shortly after, the energy erupted and expanded, making way for a path to another place. The group stepped through the portal. Everyone is familiar with the action except for the three heroes. Jasmien entered first, suspicious for a moment and then content the next.

    Peter gaped like a schoolboy, his eyes darting everywhere as he passed through what he saw as a wormhole. ¡°Cool.¡± He muttered before passing through.

    Lucy instead took a few steps, paused anxiously. She held a spark of fire in her palm. ¡°What do you think, sparky, should I go in?¡± She asked the flickering flame. Instead of responding, it seemed to bob its head. With that reassurance, she entered the portal, her bodyguard close behind.

    Arriving on the other side of the portal. The group found themselves in an entirely new location. It appeared to be a rather garish and opulent room. Stepping out of the archway, into the spacious room. A small welcoming committee greeted the group. From the looks of it, a few imperial knights, wizards, and spirit magi were in attendance.

    They spoke to the trinity''s keepers in hushed tones. Neither of the heroes could make out their words. Yet Jasmine understood much from just their looks. They were nervous, downright fearful. It reminded her of the time her father attended a board meeting for one of his companies. The board members had that same look, preparing to give bad news, yet were unsure of whom they feared more.

    So, she watched and waited for their private chat to reach its end. Peter couldn''t care less. His eyes brimming with curiosity, he inspected the portal''s archway. He had always found any form of magic fascinating. To his credit, he was quite skilled. He mentioned to Jasmine that his skill is likely proportionate to his pop culture knowledge.

    Jasmine couldn¡¯t believe that simple knowledge of comic books, fantasy books and some board game would provide such skill. Yet she could not refute his claims to magical power. She herself had little skill at manipulating the forces of magic and spirit. Relying solely on the boons granted, which were considerable. Strength, endurance, and a godly amount of stamina.

    Peter excelled at the intellectual side of things. As his knowledge grew, his finer control over the element of water ascended. Still, their powers were nothing compared to Lucy. Neither the most powerful nor the most skilled. She was closer to the spirits than either.

    Lucy could directly converse with them, a skill thought to require years of practice. Unlike Peter and Jasmine, who could neither converse nor hear the soft melody of the elements. Lucy could literally talk to the fire, even make requests. It was such a surreal thing for the two to witness. Her having a full-on conversation with a candle.

    Finally, after pulling herself out of her thoughts, the trinity was ushered into a series of rooms. What greeted them at the end was a dining room. Rising from the head of the table is a middle-aged man. Dark hair and equally dark eyes. His appearance was odd compared to most imperials. He looked vaguely Asian in descent.

    Wearing a grey doublet, he appeared regal and posed with a touch of nobility. ¡°Oh, how lovely to see you all!¡± The man spoke, jovial and sincere. ¡°Halmar, last I saw you, you were but a boy.¡± He further remarked, approaching the young man and taking him in a bear hug.

    The scene was surreal, at least to Jasmine. Based on her first observations, he seemed like the no nonsense, always professional figures that crowded her father. She had learned something important that day. Don¡¯t judge a book by its cover. It was an odd thing to learn. Her experiences had been the opposite.

    The man continued his overly affectionate greetings. Kissing Elisara¡¯s hand, a little too long that it seemed a tad creepy. Looking up to notice the blush on the witch''s face, she wondered if there was something between them. Finally, he reached the stoic Frederik. Again, he made his way to a bear hug, only to be rebuffed with a shake of the knight''s head.

    ¡°Lord Anthos, now is not the time for pleasantries. The Empire is in turmoil and time is of the essence.¡± The knight butted in, keeping his tone calm and sharp to the point.

    This was enough to pull the apparent lord out of his bizarre greeting habits. Straightening up and reclaiming the dignity expected of a noble. He put on his serious face for about a second. ¡°Come now Freddy, the empire is always in turmoil. When has it ever been stable, my man?¡± He asked, sporting a wide-brimmed smile and a crooked eyebrow.

    Frederik harrumphed. He did not like that jab at the imperial crown. Ignoring his words, the knight continued. ¡°HIs majesty has charged me to perform the unveiling ceremony in Helgos. Talk of unrest among the populace has reached his ear. We put the people at ease,¡± He explained, gesturing to the three assembled summoned heroes.

    Drawing his attention, Anthos cast his gaze appraisingly over the three. Bowing deeply to each of them, oner after the other. ¡°It is an honour to greet the trinity.¡± He remarked, raising his gaze to meet them. ¡°Please, before we get into the festivities, I wish to invite you for lunch.¡± He offered, gesturing to the table.

    Both Peter and Lucy beamed. The thought of a feast made their mouths water. Before Frederik could protest, Anthos insisted with a soft clap. Like clockwork, several figures entered, ferrying treys of food. He had clearly planned this in advance, and Frederik could not refuse. Halmar sighed, while Elisara seemed quite pleased with herself. Jasmine suspected she was aware this was going down.

    Next thing they knew, everyone had seated around the table, ready to dig in. The waiter served her a dish resembling roast chicken with a sauce similar to creamy mushroom. Peter decided on the meat loaf and salad. According to him, it tasted just like the one his mother made. Lucy had a dish that reminded her of pasta, except the spaghetti was thick and wavy. The dish tasted similar, and the chef served it with a pesto sauce and chicken.

    The meals served were delicious, on a par with those of the earth. It made Jasmine curious what typical commoners dined on every day. She had lingering images of impoverished peasants eating maggoty bread for days on end. The image of the European Middle Ages never left her psyche. Regardless, magic existed in the world, perhaps that offered options and convenience not found in our history.

    Immersed in her meal, Jasmine neglected to cast an appraising gaze to the d¨¦cor. Her father would scold her for this misstep. He always drilled into her the necessity to size up another''s domain. The realm where a man makes his home says a lot about him as a person. She scoped the man''s domain with that in mind.

    It was not as ostentatious as she had expected. The walls had a light grey colour with few decorations or patterns visible. This room seems to be a simple dining room, except for something she should have seen before. Behind Lord Anthos, appears to be a cabinet, with a single object neatly placed. From a glance it appeared quite familiar. In fact, she had seen one before.

    The fact she had recognised the object was not the most important factor. It was where she had seen it and the where was in fact earth. Sitting upon the cabinet for all to see was a vintage samurai sword. Not only that, but it also appeared to be a Shint¨­ Katana. Those weapons are ancient, made around the 16th century.

    Noticing, Jasmine¡¯s gaze cast to the weapon. Anthos smiled widely. ¡°I see you eyeing Uchinaru. You have a discerning gaze.¡± He remarked, before taking a gulp of his soup.

    The rest of the table shifted their gaze to Jasmine. She didn¡¯t flinch from the sudden shift, instead; she reorientated herself. Putting down her fork, she sat up straight and replied. ¡°Indeed, it''s an exquisite piece.¡± She remarks, genuinely in awe of the weapon.

    Anthos'' smile widens. Taking a cloth to his mouth, he ascends. Gently pulling the sword from its cradle, presenting the weapon for the table''s inspection. The occupants cast furtive glances at the work of art. None more intrigued than Jasmine and Peter.

    ¡°Woah, is that a samurai sword?¡± Peter asked, his eyes widening.

    Taken aback, Anthos was struck dumb for a moment. Quickly, he took the reins of his composure back. Nodding a few times, he spoke. ¡°Indeed, it is. You know of the samurai?¡± He asked, resting the blade on his shoulder and leaning forward.

    Peter¡¯s eyes gleamed, the glee was clear. ¡°Of course, man, they were badass swordsman back in the day. I always wanted to visit Japan and meet an actual samurai. I heard there were some still on the imperial guard.¡± He explained rather energetically.

    The words seemed to spark a growing interest. Anthos licked his lips before speaking. ¡°Japan you say?¡± He spoke, phrasing it like a question. Shifting a few furtive glances to the ancient weapon.

    Before Peter could reply, Jasmine held up her hand. ¡°You know of Japan? The Empire of the Rising Sun?¡± she queried, fixing her appraising gaze to his form.

    He nodded again, presenting the weapon for all to inspect. ¡°Yes, I know of it and the fact they you as well is most intriguing.¡± He said, sitting back down.

    Eyeing the weapon suspiciously, Jasmine spoke. ¡°Tell me, Lord Anthos, where did you come by such a weapon?¡± She asked, directing the conversation.

    Looking down at the blade, his eyes grew soft. It was as if he could glean something from the peculiar markings along the sheath. Eventually, the look faded, taking aim at Jasmine. ¡°A family heirloom, passed down the generations.¡± He answered wistfully.

    She was understanding. The clues were clear and downright obvious. ¡°Let me guess, one of your ancestors was from our world?¡± She blurted, fixing her gaze to his.

    Suddenly everyone at the table silenced, shifting their gazes back and forth between the two. Anthos nodded, turning to the Katana. ¡°This blade belonged to one of my ancestors. Going back over five generations, her names was Ayako Sasaki, and she was the hero of fire.¡± Shifting to Lucy, he bowed deeply. ¡°Lady Lucy, it is in honour to greet the new champion of Pyrus.¡± Raising his head, he smiled at the awe-struck teenager.

    Anthos put the rest of the table at ease, and likely several members were aware of the situation beforehand. Anthos returned to his seat, placing the weapon atop its cradle. "Now that we have made introductions." Let us discuss the festival.¡± He segued, casting a glance at the assembled heroes.

    ¡°What festival?¡± The three collectively queried.

    Anthos tilted his head in response before smiling. ¡°Why the festival of heroes, a celebration in honour of you?¡± He explained, as if it was an obvious fact.

 Chapter 25 - The Festival Begins.

    Jasmine awoke in her temporary room. For a second, she wondered as to her location. The flood of memories immediately informed her. They had finished their dinner with Lord Anthos. Discovering considerably more information on the noble. He was not only a descendant of a Japanese swordsman but also the Warden of Helgos.

    The title was an imperial one, given to the high noble in charge of Helgos. The original Helgosian royal family disappeared a century ago, following the former kingdom''s annexation. With this fashion, the vassal Kingdom of Helgos has no reigning monarch.

    She found this situation odd, since the subjects of Helgos still refer to the realm as a kingdom. She had learned that the Kingdom of Tarkon still had a monarch. His ancestor yielded his crown to the first emperor during the war of conquest.

    Shaking her head, she went through her morning routine. Some light stretches, followed by some kata forms. Her father always insisted on learning several martial arts. Her favourite was Krav Maga, with Japanese Ju Jitsu as a close second. By going through several forms, she sufficiently warmed up. She finished her routine with some pushups and situps.

    The other intimate routines followed soon after, going to the bathroom, which thankfully had a plumbing. The bathroom resembled the ones from earth. There is a mirror, a washbasin and a bathtub. The toilet was just a hollowed-out chamber pot, feeding into the floor. Likely a sewage system was setup, hopefully with effectible drainage.

    Each of these implements had some sort of an analogue device that runs on magic. The bathtub had a tap that manifested water when you touched a rune. Two runes existed, one for hot and the other for cold. The flame and ice symbols kind of gave it away. The wash basin had a similar setup. She did her business, went to the toilet, thanked whatever god there is, her period was only a week away. Finally, ending her morning routine with a pleasant soak in the tub.

    Washed and refreshed, she left the room wearing her provided clothes. It was an annoying and baggy robe with the symbol of earth emblazoned on the front. It was a human fist clenching a boulder, something she didn¡¯t understand. But supposed since the spirits deal in human affairs, they likely created insignias to cater for human involvement.

    Emerging from her room, she caught sight of Peter in the hallway. He wasn¡¯t paying attention, just pacing back and forth. Dressed in the traditional robes of the water spirit, he appeared to be hunched over. Approaching him, she finally noticed what he was doing.

    Clutched in his hands was something she hadn''t seen since elementary school. It was a GameBro, a portable game console the boys were so fond of. She never had much interest. Her father even said it was an exceptional waste of time. She had seen him play it a few times, of course she believed it would run out of battery, eventually.

    Approaching the embroiled teenager, she looked over his shoulder. The tiny screen depicted a top-down perspective, with a little humanoid sprite moving through tall grass. ¡°What game is that?¡± She asked, startling the engrossed teenager.

    For a moment he was full of jump scare, but quickly calmed down at the sight of a familiar face. ¡°Damn Jazz, are you trying to give me a heart attack?¡± He responded, rather sarcastically, holding his heart like it would fall out.

    Jasmine frowned. She did not like the nickname, but no matter how much she protested, he didn¡¯t stop calling her that. She eventually resigned to the inevitable.

    ¡°It¡¯s BattleMon Violet, my personal favourite. I am about to fill out my seventh slot with a wyvern type. The Elite Six will bow before my might.¡± He explained, thrusting his fist out like he was ready to conquer the world.

    Jasmine neither understood nor cared about such things. She was never a geek, even back in her younger years. Too young for the adults, to mature for the teenagers. It made her an outsider no matter where she went. She wondered now and then during her time here. The yoke of her father was no longer around her neck. She could experience new things in this new world.

    This line of thought was quick to cross her mind and quick to vacate. She would ponder it later. For now, something intrigued her. ¡°That thing must have one hell of a battery capacity. How is it still running?¡± She inquired, recalling not a single electrical outlet in this medieval world.

    Peter only smiled, gesturing the portable console forward. His finger tapping the clearly non-commercial modifications. Looking carefully, there appeared to be several strips of solar panels embedded in the plastic. Understanding dawned on her. The damn thing was solar powered.

    ¡°Did you do that?¡± She asked, genuinely impressed.

    He smiled smugly, exuding the air of a misunderstood genius. ¡°Yeah, I always misplaced my charger and I enjoy tinkering. So, I hooked up a bunch of solar panels and, boom, unlimited power!¡± He spoke with gravitas, raising the GameBro like it was a holy relic. ¡°It was convenient I did so, the major problem with medieval fantasy worlds. No electrical outlets, that and no vanilla coke. Damn, I miss the divine beverage.¡± He spoke longingly, eyes cast into the distance.

    Jasmine nodded, accepting his words and admiring the ingenuity. She misjudged the teen, initially thinking he was just a scattered, brained geek. Adjusting her internal opinion of him, she quickly segued to important topics.

    Informing him they have a festival to attend in a few hours. He looked at her, confused for a second, before his memories kicked in. She would have chided him, but decided not to. Instead, they made their way to Lucy¡¯s room. Picking her up, they head to the meeting area.

    The festivities were being setup, so they waited, having a few snacks provided by servants. She pondered if they were slaves. Slavery had been an economic staple for much of human medieval history. Given this world was still stuck in the Middle Ages with magic, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder. When she asked the female servant named Lisette, she admitted she was a paid employee.

    Comforted at least that slavery was at least not pervasive. Jasmine kept a lookout, but even if she found it, what could she even do about it? Petition the Emperor or the Spirits to abolish it. Her own nation''s history had to settle in a civil war. With the upcoming war between the Empire and the Federation. Which, now she thought about it, would be the fantasy equivalent of World War one.

    The length and breadth of this world''s political issues reminded her of the early nineteen tens of earth. The world, or at least the major continent, tittering on the edge of oblivion. She wondered if the history books in the future would call it the great war or the continental war. Maybe no one will be left to write.

    Her musings lasted for nearly the entire trip to meet and greet. Eventually, they found their wayward companion, the adorable Lucy. She had gone exploring throughout Anthos'' manor. They found her having a conversation with a fireplace. Apparently, the fire or spirit was a pleasant fellow. Jasmine didn¡¯t want to get into it. The concept of talking to the elements always weirded her out. Ironic considering, some sort of rock spirit blessed her.

    Pulling her away from her riveting conversation, they finally reached the meeting room. They soon received a briefing on the happenings. Last night there were several jovial and drunk Helgosians tearing up the strip. Finally, it was time to reveal the great heroes to the populace.

    Jasmine, Peter and Lucy found themselves seated on rather lavish seats, set upon a stadium. Before them was a crowd of onlookers dressed in medieval attire. One could realistically call them peasants, but several of them wore wizards'' robes. The crowd had way more wizards than she had ever seen in the capital.

    She pondered on the differences between the rest of the empire and the kingdom of Helgos. She had the cliff notes version of events. The spirits blessed a human, and he conquered the kingdoms and man and install the spirit of worship and magic. Wizards, of course, are still around, but there is an obvious disdain for them. Here in Helgos, things are different, likely because wizards found this kingdom.

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    Pulling herself again out of her reverie, she cast her glance across the procession. The typical people joined them at the stadium. Lord Anthos was up on the podium, speaking to his people. The three bodyguards of the heroes stood over to the side. One figure she only briefly met just recently sat with a collection of high nobles.

    The seats off and to the left had several of the Helgosian nobility seated. Most of them were easily identifiable. They wore fine tunics with a scarf wrapped around his neck. She learned yesterday that the scarf identified them as Helgosian nobility. Old nobility from the original kingdom. They were the old wizard families. at least that¡¯s what Jasmine heard. The scarves each had distinct patterns and colours, likely woven in the sigil of their house.

    What really took her attention was the man without a scarf. Without such attire, he was probably not a noble or simply misplaced it. Turning to her bodyguard, she whispered an inquiry. ¡°Who is that?¡± She asked.

    Halmar looked down inquisitively before shifting his eyes to the man. ¡°That is Johnathan Stillson, he is a merchant of some wealth, much involved in the kingdom''s politics.¡± He explained, not giving much in the way of details.

    She nodded, accepting the information. It fit with her initial deduction. The way the man carried himself as he moved, spoke and sat down. It was familiar and reminded her much of her own father. This man was someone to observe, but for now, she had larger concerns.

    The festival was in full swing. Lord Anthos sufficiently stoked the crowd''s joy. They were cheering, yelling to support the Empire and the Heroic Trinity. It made the three nervous, to different degrees. A mild emotional flutter with Jasmine, a searing nervousness within Peter and fear within Lucy. The three were not ready for this. Jasmine knew it and her concern never wavered.

    She knew their position and the expectations of the Empire. What she didn¡¯t know was how to get out of it. No doubt the thrill of adventure and heroism overjoyed the darker parts of her heart. Still, the pragmatic nature she had beaten into her reared its ugly head. This was not a helpful situation, and she needed to do something.

    But for now, she had to look like a hero in front of a bunch of clamouring medieval subjects. She waved to them as per their suggestion. The crowd grew louder, chanting praise the spirits or praise the heroes. They reminded Jasmine of the attendees of a rock concert. The courtyard below was the mosh pit.

    It made her nervous, but she stamped down that feeling. Soon enough the time came, Anthos directing herself to rise and attend him. She rose slowly; her gaze never leaving the bustling crowd. In the corner of her eye, she noticed an odd figure in the crowd. He or she was wearing wizards'' robes, their face concealed by a cowl. This wouldn¡¯t have been atypical, except the figure was glowing.

    The glow seemed like a cosmetic effect, perhaps some spell or magical quality. She had several thoughts about potential fashion trends. Yet the pulsating glow, the reaction of the surrounding people, gave her a different idea. Despite her caution, the next set of events was undeniable.

    An explosion rocked the stadium. The glowing attendee quickly ceased his glow, only to explode in fire and blood. This act of demolition annihilated the groupings of innocents in their immediate vicinity. There was no question of their survival rate, they were no longer whole beings. The devastation spread its tendrils of death outwards, cutting a swath of fire throughout the crowd.

    Death carved its way in every direction, reaching the stadium and sending the closest figures to fly back. The heroic trinity and their bodyguards were neither spared nor seriously hurt. Thrown off their feet or their seat, the entire contingent of nobles, heroes, bodyguards and that one merchant found the floor without grace.

    The sound was deafening, the screams even more so. Jasmine tried to get her thoughts in order. It was an arduous task. Physically, she was fine. She had noted a while back her constitution would make several comic book superheroes jealous. At least this was according to Peter. He tended to geek out every time she went all Supergirl on something. She preferred the term superwoman, but that opened another can of worms she shut the lid on. Never have an argument about comic books with a geek. It''s like arguing with a scientist in the world being flat.

    She was the first to recover from the blast. Rising to her feet with all the strength she could muster. The amount of strength in her body was considerable. So considerable. In her quiet moments, she legitimately scared herself over the damage she could cause. Scanning the scene, she witnessed a horror that put every image or video to shame.

    She had been aware of terrorist attacks in the past. She had seen a few terrorist attacks on the news, but authorities always concealed the carnage from the public. This was not a newsreel, and they held nothing back. She turned her face from the carnage. It made her sick to her stomach. She could not bear to gaze upon charred corpses, stripped of life and left without shape.

    Putting her mind to the immediate damages, she eyed her companions. Peter sprawled across the ground, knocked out and unmoving. Lucy was completely unharmed and weeping at the horrific sight. Her guardian and knight had risen to protect her. Cradling the young child, ready to vacate this dangerous area.

    Scanning the rest of the stadium, everybody seemed to be alive, with only superficial injuries. The merchant, known as Stillson, rose from his slumped position. His gaze was distant, unfazed by the carnage. He seemed more concerned with the meagre dust that tainted his clothes. He cleansed his pristine outfit with a few minor taps.

    Stillson shifted his gaze to the crowd, narrowing his gaze on a particular figure. Another robed figure was glowing in the second half of the crowd, ready to spread more death. His figure vanished in a flash before he annihilated the clamouring and fearful people. A shadow cast across the area, pulling the glowing man from the crowd and raising him high.

    Jasmine''s gaze rose with the man, to notice his squirming form clutched by another figure. Held aloft with a hand clenched around his throat. Tracing the arm to the rest of the body revealed an alarming sight. It was a man floating on air, suspended in the sky. His body was muscular and lean, neither weightlifter nor Olympic athlete. His face was sharp with a square jaw, blonde hair, and red eyes.

    He held a rugged, handsome air about him, compounded by his garb. Wrapped in a thin dark tunic, layered in gaudy steel armour. Pauldrons hung upon his shoulders; each a dragon''s head ready to consume. Trailing down his back was a blood red cape, fluttering in the wind.

    He appeared, at least in her eyes, a medieval superman. She wasn''t totally inept regarding comics, but she wasn¡¯t completely ignorant. Peter had added to her knowledge base. He went on a tangent or ranted. Regardless of comics, this fellow was real and clearly flying.

    Clenching his hand around the glowing man''s throat, his victim desperately tried to free himself. These actions proved fruitless, and he appeared to lean back on his initial mission. The detonation followed, and another explosion rocked the area. The frightened peasants scrambled to take cover, but when the rain of death didn¡¯t come, they all looked to the heavens.

    Despite the explosion, the flying man was unruffled and without a single trace of scorch or injury. Appearing like an invincible and gallant hero looking down upon a world he planned to correct. ¡°Hear me enemies of Helgos, your evil ends now!¡± He declared with finality and a booming voice to back it up.

    Before he could even say another word, several figures glowed in the crowd. Three men prepared to turn this entire district to rubble. The man above only smirked, his cape fluttering in the wind. A second later, he vanished, moving faster than the eye can see. In a flash, the man whisked two of the kamikaze men into the sky.

    They exploded in the distance, leaving only one remaining. Unlike the others, he directed his palms, channelling the glow away from his body. After the civilians had vacated the area, the crowd trampled each other to escape death. A flame illuminated the air; The energy focused and directed at his enemy.

    Swooping down, the hero took the brunt of the blast. The light encompassed his form, only to wink out a moment later. Leaving him undamaged, a statuesque Grecian God, ready to rain down wrath. ¡°My turn.¡± He declared, steam rising from his lips.

    Inhaling a deep breath, a flood of heat and plasma poured forth in a concentrated beam. The energy exited his maw, annihilating the upper half of the man''s body. Leaving only a partial form, absent his torso. The body, or whatever it was, slumped to the ground, spilling intestines and blood. It was a gruesome, albeit efficient, method of dispatch. It sent chills down Jasmine''s spine; this individual was dangerous.

    Following the deaths of these apparent terrorists, the crowd had a sudden shift in manners. Some were still fleeing and yelling, yet a wave of interest crossed many others. They watched the flying hero attentively until they burst into cheers. The now beloved hero extended his arms as if he was drinking in their praise.

    "People of Helgos, you are protected," he declared, urging the crowd to cheer louder. I, Drakon, shall defend you from any threat!He declared for all to listen, encouraging the crowd to cheer louder.

    Jasmine found the scene incredibly odd. There were corpses everywhere, yet they were cheering. They heard rustling sounds from behind. She turned back, noticing Peter rising to his feet.

    ¡°No way dude, it''s superman!¡± His excitement was obvious, pointing a finger at Drakon.

    Shaking her head, Jasmine inspected the damage. She could already see the Helgosian guards arriving to assist the wounded. Drakon was still drinking in their praise, a smile on his perfect face. It seemed a tad smug to her, but then again, she had never met a real superhero.

    Before the situation could get out of hand, the guards pulled her and the rest of the trinity away from the stadium. Just as she was leaving, an explosion resounded from the distance. Pulling everyone''s gaze, the sight of a castle blasted to smithereens. This drew the gaze of Drakon. He posed for a moment before taking flight towards the explosion.

    Just before he left, Jasmine noticed a subtle nod between Drakon and the stadium. Casting her gaze to Mr Stillson, she could see him on his feet, his stony gaze watching the heroes exit. Soon after, the scene changed, replacing his visage with the interior of a waiting room. Someone took the young heroes away from the crime scene and led them to the safety of a lord''s residence.

 Chapter 26 - The Attack Continues

    ¡°What was that?!¡± Peter gasped. Following his little geek out, he finally noticed the corpses.

    ¡°We don''t know who used it, but that was forbidden magic. I have not seen such things in decades.¡± Elisara answered. Her gaze narrowed in thought. ¡°Sir Frederik, take Lucy to her quarters. I will see about the situation.¡± She requested, nodding to the knight.

    Taking the frightened Lucy in his arms, the towering knight ferried her down the hall. The room now comprised Jasmine, Peter, Elisara and Halmar. The four took a deep breath, each of them trying to come to terms with the carnage.

    ¡°Those were suicide bombers. Is this a prelude to a larger attack?¡± Jasmine queried the room, the question set everyone to pondering.

    Halmar eventually spoke up. Halmar eventually voiced, "It could be an isolated incident, but the explosion from the distance suggests a larger scheme."

    ¡°What should we do then? Maybe we go out and finally do some hero stuff. You know, like that superman dude?¡± Peter chimed in, pointing out the window, ready to jump start his superhero career.

    Jasmine was about to shake her head, instead she took some time to think it over. People were being killed; the city might be in chaos. They were heroes summoned by another world. Should they not intervene? These were her thoughts, dangerous thoughts to be sure, but no less relevant.

    ¡°He has a point; we have been training our powers since we got here.¡± She stated, agreeing for the first time with Peter.

    Likely picturing himself in tights and a cape, the delighted teenager beamed. The wanderlust soon faded with visions of corpses and blood. The joy of a superhero career slowly faded to fear and disgust. While Peter reevaluated his life choices, Jasmine turned to their two bodyguards.

    ¡°We should do something, regardless.¡± She firmly stated after some serious thought.

    The two traded glances. Neither Halmar nor Elisara wanted to agree. Both considered the heroes not ready and barely out of training. They only agreed to this excursion because the emperor decreed it. Now they faced a legitimate threat to the kingdom of Helgos. The call of heroism was there for the taking. Was it their place to deny them?

    ¡°Jasmine, it would be better for us to depart through the gate, back to the capital.¡± Halmar suggested, casting his gaze down the hall.

    The idea was sound. One hero was a traumatised child, and they both had minimal training. They were practically religious figureheads, and they had severely failed in their purpose. Jasmine thought of just leaving through the gate. Let the flying, firing, breathing superman deal with the situation. Yet despite that irrefutable logic, she felt deep down that she needed to do something.

    While they were pondering their situation, they could hear footsteps. Lord Anthos arrived with two guards shadowing him. They wore steel plate armour from head to toe, and each of them had scarves around their necks. They wore the banner of his family emblazoned on them, two Katanas crossing a flower.

    ¡°Are you well? Do any of you require a healer?¡± Lord Anthos abruptly asked, sweat atop his brow. They responded in the negative and relief poured over him. ¡°That is good to hear, it will be best if you vacate to the capital.¡± He suggested, agreeing with Halmar unknowingly.

    The two shook their heads, both Peter and Jasmine staunchly opposing the decision. ¡°We must stay. People need help. We got to do the whole hero thing... Right?¡± Peter suggested cautiously, uncertain himself if he should.

    Jasmine nodded, agreeing with him. He smiled, satisfied that at least one person was on his side. ¡°Besides, it would be bad politically if we just left without making an appearance.¡± Leaving the room with that logic, she noticed several figures approaching.

    They appeared to be a collection of servants, two women and one man. They approached frantically and were clearly frightened. Arriving at the entrance, the guards stopped them. ¡°Halt, identify yourself.¡± One guard commanded.

    Lord Anthos rose to the occasion, placating the on-edge protector. ¡°It is fine. Let her through.¡± Intervening, the guards allowed the lead servant to enter.

    Arriving, the lead servant, a young brunette woman with freckles on her face, smiled graciously. The smile reminded Jasmine of her mother''s and she was immediately on edge. Before anyone could react, the servant brandished a blade from her wrist. The weapon glided cleanly across her master''s chest, spurting blood. Following her abrupt attack, she quickly flung the blade across the room, its edge directed towards Jasmine.

    Several other blades materialised, each of them sending death at the two heroes. Halmar leaped into action, a gust of wind sent him flying into the blade''s path. The dagger caught on his shoulder, embedding deeply in his flesh. Grunting in pain, Halmar slumped to his knees. The second blade, however, reached its intended target. Decent reflexes and luck spurned Peter to duck. The blade, instead of skewering, sliced across his shoulder. The blade continued on its path, hitting Elisara in the chest.

    These events happened in a matter of moments. Soon after, the guards sprang into action, ferrying their wounded lord to the side. Brandishing their weapons, they leapt forward to face the assassins. Before they could eliminate the threat, the three servants swiftly evaded.

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    ¡°One shall be enough.¡± The lead servant muttered, glancing at her cohorts.

    The other two sped away while she covered them with a pair of blades. A lumbering form speeding towards her soon eclipsed her vision. Jasmine arrived faster than she expected, landing a right hook. The servant somehow blocked the punch with her crossed blades, staggering back only slightly. Surprised, Jasmine retracted her injured fist, noting the blades remained undamaged.

    Realising that she had overshot her attack and left herself wide open. She quickly jumped back, narrowly missing two swings of the blades. The opponent, who was skilled with bladed weapons, had been trained and was far superior. Her own training in martial arts was not up to snuff. A familiar voice resounded as she debated on whether she should retreat.

    ¡°Hydro blast!¡± Peter bellowed, thrusting his palms forward as a jet stream of water emerged.

    The stream propelled forward, landing centre mass on the assassin. She attempted to block, but only cut the stream in half, taking the brunt. It sent her flying into a nearby wall, covered in water.

    ¡°Ultra effective!¡± He added, pumping his fist in victory, wincing in pain from the movement.

    Rolling her eyes at the weirdo that is her saviour, Jasmine regarded him and smiled. Her smile quickly vanished just as Peter collapsed to the ground. This moment of distraction was enough for the assassin to come back to her senses and rise. The droplets of water resounded, prompting a visceral reaction from Jasmine.

    Wiping around to counter the threat, she misjudged her strength and backhanded the woman. Instead of a wet slap, accompanied by a black eye. The sound of squelching flesh and cracked bone replaced her expectations. She first slammed into the woman''s face, indenting and splattering the bits and pieces across the wall. The act reminded her strangely of a tomato being popped, its juices flowing wildly.

    Resisting the urge to puke, she turned away from the gruesome sight. Taking a deep breath, she put the thought in the lockbox and buried it deep within. Sufficiently self-administered, she turned her attention to her wounded friends.

    Peter lay on the ground, groaning in pain. Halmar crouched over him, trying his best to tend to him. Elisara rose easily, pulling the dagger from her chest. Instead of a spurt of blood, the blade was unstained. Appearing unharmed by some miracle or force of magic, she settled down beside Peter.

    Halmar and Elisara fussed over the injured Peter, noting the shivering and spasms. The area soon came to life with activity. Guards flooded in. Suitably defending the group, the guards encircled everyone, their gazes locked on the exits.

    Sitting down beside him, Jasmine tried to keep her mind off the bloodstains adorning her knuckles. Instead, she focused on her writhing friend. They only knew each other for a few weeks, yet the circumstance bonded them. Still, in that moment, she felt a slight tinge of regret. She had no intention of getting to know him, only focusing on her own agenda. In that moment, as she stared down upon him, she regretted just a little.

    ¡°What is happening to him?¡± She queried anyone that would listen.

    Halmar frowned. He clearly didn¡¯t have an answer. The one who spoke up was Elisara, her hands hovering over Peter¡¯s wound. ¡°Looks like some sort of rare poison. It has some odd emanations.¡± She explained, narrowing her gaze. ¡°No, they didn''t.¡± She muttered, rifling through a pouch at her side.

    Withdrawing a red powder and sprinkling the granules over the wound, she chanted under her breath. The wound healed, closing like magic. While this was ongoing, a thick black smoke poured from the injury. The sight placed a stunned expression on Elisara.

    ¡°It¡¯s a demonic infection. Their blades were likely steeped in demon blood.¡± She stated matter-of-factly.

    ¡°Is there something you can do?¡± Jasmine asked, genuinely worried.

    Instead of answering, she rose to her feet and attended Anthos. Performing the same procedure on the noble. Annoyed, Jasmine was about to argue, until the voice of Halmar brought her back.

    ¡°The efforts she has done will keep him alive. But demon infections are normally fatal, requiring rare and dangerous methods to cure,¡± Halmar explained, his brows knitted in concern.

    She could only accept these facts, just as Peter passed out completely. They took both a hero and a noble under guard after treating them. Soon after, Jasmine¡¯s thoughts turned to Lucy, and they sped to find her.

    Arriving at a hallway that led to the guest rooms. The sound of a scuffle was obvious to the trio. Turning a corner, the sight of Frederik, sword in hand, defending his charge from three hooded assassins. Lucy crouched behind him like a shield, while Frederik waved the giant piece of steel at everyone within reach.

    He slashed down at the nearest enemy, while another struck his flank. His armour took the brunt of the dagger''s strike, the knight manoeuvring every time they went for a vital point. The three assassins were clearly after Lucy. Two attacking as a distraction while the third tried to get around the giant shield of a man.

    Halmar soon sprang into action, spirits unfurled from his body. A gust of wind propelled into a powerful sprint the lean fencer. Closing the distance in an instant, he thrust his rapier into the skull of the closest assassin. The man didn¡¯t even have time to react before his demise. Just as quickly, Halmar retracted his blade, ready to slice and dice the other two.

    Unfortunately, the initial attack prompted the other assassins'' shift in attention. The closest seem to change tactics, lunging at everyone with reckless abandoned. Slicing anyone near, without thought to his own life. Frederik easily repelled the many strikes, but his opponents quickly pushed him back further than he had intended.

    He realised his error; the distance allowed a small gap between him and his charge. The third assassin took the opportunity, lunging at Lucy. Brutish hands lashed out, eager to claim their victim. One hand wrapped around the girl''s arm, ready to pull her into the death throw.

    ¡°Come here!¡± The assassin grunted, raising his blade for a strike.

    She yelped loudly, trying to pull away. She wasn¡¯t fast enough, and her limb came into the possession of another. They were not gentle, nor respectful. He grasped the arm of a child and pulled as hard as he could.

    ¡°Get off me asshole!¡± She screamed, pulling away with all the strength of a child.

    Naturally, her efforts were futile, yet he let go all the same. Instead of feeling the wrath of a child, a gout of flame manifested, setting his eyebrows a blaze. He shrieked in pain, his face red hot and blistering. Unsuccessfully did he try to stamp down the flames, tripping over into a heap of himself.

    During this reprieve, Frederiks'' sword dispatched the second assassin. Split in half by the great blade, from neck to sternum. With these men slain and the last remaining screaming in the corner. The two groups meet in the middle. Having enough of the man''s screams, Frederik renders the man unconscious, with a right hook.

    Before any of them can savour their victory, several guards arrive with dire news. ¡°The city is in chaos. Riots have broken out amongst the populace.¡± They explained with heavy breath. The notion disturbed everyone present, each evaluating the events and the inevitable storm to come.

 Chapter 27 - Experimentation

    Al made his way to his room, with the vampire trailing behind like a lost puppy. He was unfazed by the vampire''s decision to follow him. They entered a room, typical of a moderately priced inn, two beds at the side, a wooden table and a chest.

    "If you need sleep, go for it." Al offered, not really expecting him to comply.

    The Nosferatu was technically dead, at least bodily. So it stood to reason that he wouldn''t require such things. But against Al''s expectations, the undead creature of the night laid down on the floor and went completely still.

    If you were unaware, you would immediately assume that someone had just passed away and was sprawled out on the floor. "So dying is how he sleeps?" Al wondered aloud. "Neat." He added.

    Forgetting that he had a dead body that luckily didn''t smell, laying a few feet away. He hopped on his bed, leaned back against the wall and finally had the time think without interruption. The carriage ride north was eventful, but he spent most of his time studying the vampire.

    He was really neglecting his own magic, which had been on the fritz for a while. He pulled back his sleeve and examined his runes to confirm they were still in good condition. "So, why are my spells so volatile?" He mused aloud.

    Thinking it over, it had to be the shift to a new world. Initially, he had believed the magic would be the same everywhere. That was a foolish thought and something he would have to reconsider. Mateshian magic was feeble compared to the premium stuff this world has.

    "These runes are likely not correctly configured to the rune system they use here or..." He trailed off as another thought occurred. "I felt a massive influx of mana when I was using them. What if the mana density is overriding the limiters and drenching the spells in so much mana they overexert?"

    He earnestly began the experimentation that was needed. With a thought, he activated a minor protection rune, something simple he had branded a long time ago. The spell merely disrupted other spells that attempted to penetrate the barrier it formed. But it didn''t have the juice to stop anything major.

    The spell activated with a soft thrum of power roiling from within and extending outwards. The barrier shimmered into being, layering itself around his body. He could feel it, like a soft breeze caressing his entire body, granting a feeling of safety.

    Titling his head, he noted the sensation was slightly different. Beforehand, it would raise and then stabilise. This time, the barrier came into being and was still rising in power. Glancing at the still glowing rune, he withdrew his glasses from his soul storage and inspected the mana flow.

    The moment the spectacles descended over his eyes, the truth became obvious. A massive vortex of power surrounded the rune, causing the mana to be sucked in at a prodigious rate. Eventually the spell would break from the strain, but before then, he would be pretty much invincible to spells.

    Quickly he deactivated the rune, and the mana slowly dissipated. Leaning back against the wall, he pondered his next move. "I see where I went wrong. I was too used to the lack of mana on Matesh. That place required you to scrounge up every fragment of power available." He recalled the days of painstaking preparation.

    His time in that world had enabled him to become skilled at preparing spells that could suck in every bit of power and use it effectively. With enough preparation, he could develop a spell for nearly everything. Of course, he had never expected a world so drenched in mana that his spells would become overloaded.

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    "The solution to this is to create new runes or just learn how they use magic here." He muttered, not really wanting to do either..

    They required time and study and while he wasn''t on any sort of time crunch, there was something he was very wary of. What if there is time dilation between universes? I could spend a year working on magic and then arrive on Matesh with centuries gone by. It was something he dreaded. He didn''t have a lick of evidence to support it and he had encountered multiverse travellers who said otherwise.

    Unfortunately, said travellers were untrustworthy demons, more than likely to give false information just for a laugh. He shook his head, recalling several demons he had encountered, only one of them he actually liked.

    There are demons in this world. Maybe they had a portal? He considered the idea and then discarded it. The concept of travelling between universes through the Infernum was an idea he did not want to test.

    There were several issues with it, such as the trustworthiness of demons and the possibility of his soul burning up the moment he entered. If he was a demon or developed a spell to survive literal hell, maybe he could hitch a ride. But for now, the only option was to hitchhike and plunder magic.

    With his own magic on the fritz, he inspected his other runes and easily determined they too would have issues with mana density. A few would function relatively well, such as the telekinesis and healing spell.

    Might as well focus on the spirit magic I gained, even if it most likely has strings attached. He considered developing new magic, but as before, it would take too much time. Then again, developing new runes could work, but experimentation would take a while.

    Getting off his bed, he sat down next to the corpse and tried for a lotus position. He was modestly successful. His body didn''t bend well. He was a wizard, not a monk. But he had meditated before, and it provided some inspiration in the past.

    Closing his eyes, he struggled to relax, but eventually did so once his bones stopped protesting. Getting into the zone, he focused on the concept of air. Trying out every idea imaginable from all those fantasy books about air benders, wind mages and elemental magic.

    Imagining himself as the air, he conjured wind-like imagery in his mind, soaring over the world, free from physical form. He even tried to connect with air around him, and funnily enough, that worked. He could feel the air, the oxygen swirling around him like he was in the centre of a storm. It was nothing as simple as the element on the periodic table. These were spirits.

    At first, gibberish filled his ear as they whispered, but slowly, he could discern words. At first, the words sounded like gibberish as they whispered, but gradually, he could distinguish a few words. They sounded like fragments of conversations, many voices intertwined together to create a cacophony of voices.

    If this is what I think it is, then Ventus is a dangerous entity. He thought as a shiver went up his spine. The idea of billions and perhaps even trillions of wind spirits scattered across the world in a massive spy network would keep the spirit lord well in the know..

    It was unlikely he could hear everything spoke on the entire planet, but he would have an effective spy network. Al wondered if he could tap into this and perhaps keep tabs on everyone, but that would likely blow out his eardrums.

    Instead, he focused on more mundane uses of his new powers. He came up with various applications for wind magic. It was air based spirit magic, but he preferred to use familiar terms. I wonder if I could suck out the oxygen from people''s lungs, or even rupture them. He considered more and more sadistic uses of his newly gained powers.

    Experimenting with channeling the air spirits around him proved fruitful, but draining. He could draw several little buggers into his palm, but they were slippery and hard to contain. But once he got the little motes of elemental fury to stand still for one second, he learned quite a bit.

    They weren''t oxygen, at least from his limited scientific background. The mana that was mimicking the features of oxygen had elemental alignment. Or to be more precise, they were producing oxygen or something equivalents. Basically, they were magical floating trees, spreading the love to us breathers. He chuckled before delving further into the study.

    Hours later, he learned much, especially that he was obsessive and needed to go to sleep. Which he did, with a few attempts to stay awake and failed miserably. Sleep took him and he finally let the bastard tear him away from his studies.

 Chapter 28 - The Inn.

    Sleep did not come well for Al, plagued by dreams of lost loves and old battles. The irritation of nightmares awakened him periodically. This was both a blessing and a curse, given the unfamiliar figures around him. Waking up groggily, he cast his gaze to the four figures that crowded his bed. In the twilight, their shapes were indistinct, but their intentions were obvious.

    One brandished a club, ready to pummel sleeping beauty. Unfortunately, said sleeping beauties were Al and a surprisingly sleeping Alek. The clubs descended, hitting both of them several times in quick succession. Once the deed was done, the men stripped their captives of their weapons and attire. Leaving only the essentials before binding their hands.

    Before they could hogtie Alek, one attacker gasped at his pale sight. There followed several murmurs on the topic of why a corpse was sleeping a few feet away from their quarry. A few mentions of heresy, along with mislabelling Al as a vile demon corrupted sorcerer. They shifted focus away from the corpse and to their target.

    Time passed; the captors settled with their leader seated on a chair. Al hogtied and sprawled on the ground before him. Dropping his hood, the leader, in a red robe with the symbol of Pyrus, revealed his face. The term rugged fit him perfectly. He was old, around mid-forties. The weathered look, thin brown cropped hair and the many scars conveyed much about him. He is a killer, pure, his gaze brokered now by disobedience or fools. Another robed figure gestured and kicked Al awake.

    Snapping back to consciousness, he took stock of his surroundings. Upon regaining consciousness, he realised he was tied up around the wrists, stripped down to a tunic, and surrounded by robed figures. "I would be surprised, but this isn''t the first time this has happened," he said.

    HIs words seemed to stun the robed men, neither of them expected such a cavalier reaction. ¡°You have a habit of being tied up?¡± The seated, robed man asked in a stiff voice.

    ¡°Unfortunately, it has been a thing in my life. The detriment of being a wanted man, I suppose. I would be flattered, but you know.¡± He gestured to his restraints.

    ¡°That must be some life you have lived. I am not surprised; sorcerers deal in dark matters.¡± The seated man stated.

    ¡°Sorcerer, I apologise, but I am unfamiliar with your use for the term. Could you explain?¡± Al asked.

    The seated man furrowed his brows, turning to his cohorts with a perplexed expression. ¡°You do not know what you are?¡± He asked, puzzled.

    ¡°I know what I am. I''m just curious what you think I am? Explain this sorcerer''s term?¡± Al queried, flexing his shoulders.

    The robed men gave each other questioning looks. Their forms came into focus and Al realised there were three men and one woman. It was a mere detail at this point. He was more curious about the seated fellow.

    Eventually, he spoke up. ¡°Alright, I will educate this heathen. Sorcerers are of the blackest spirit; they profane all that is holy. Their magic is that of the uttermost darkness. If that heresy wasn¡¯t enough, they summon and cavort with demons, as you do heretic.¡± He finished his holier than thou speech and now waited for the heretic to speak.

    ¡°So let me get this straight. A sorcerer is an evil wizard that uses black magic and deals with demons?¡± Al queried and received soft murmurs of affirmation all around. Nodding a few times, his gaze cast to the still sleeping Alek. although he seemed more dead than in slumber. He wondered why the vampire hadn''t awoken. There was a lovely smorgasbord available for him to chow down on.

    Little did anyone in the room know Alek was not just sleeping, but dreaming. Vague images crossed his undead mind. Rooms filled with cheering indistinct faces and wide, expansive forests shrouded in darkness. He wanted to run, to be untethered from this strange situation. Yet his body would not move. He was a passenger, observing events go by.

    Back in the waking world, the leader of the robed men stewed in anger. Not only did the evil sorcerer show no fear of the leader''s holy wrath, but he was also now debating and critiquing everything he had been taught.

    ¡°This whole sorcerer being evil seems like a case of poor public relations. I mean, I will admit I have met some rough customers amongst the infernal populace. But some can be quite reasonable. I have not met many demons around here. But I heard there is an entire nation of demonic citizens. The federation sounds like a nice, democratically founded and civilised place.¡± The captured man began his heresy in earnest, speaking of rationality and logic.

    The leader of the robed men was having none of that. ¡°Silence heathen, you speak lies. Not only do you attempt to deceive us about the wretched nation of Demonus. But you lie and dare to claim you have not cavorted with demons!¡± The holy man roared indignantly, surprised at the cadence of his own voice. Quickly, did he pull himself back from his rage and settled into his calm?

    ¡°Really drank the cool aid, huh? No worries, I don¡¯t judge. Still, I don¡¯t know what you mean. I have met no demons around these parts.¡± Al explained, genuinely puzzled.

    The leader snorted, swallowed, and then spat on the floor. ¡°More lies from the heathen.¡± He equally spat, glaring down at his captive.

    ¡°Well, that was unsanitary.¡± Al commented rather smugly.

    This only enraged the leader of this holy band even more. Leaning forward until they are face to face, he snarled. ¡°Now listen here, you disgusting heretic. We know you cavort with a demon in the shape of a young boy. It is the nature of demons to be vile and deceptive. You can either tell us where the demon is or face the wrath of Pyrus.¡± He concluded his rant with a rather forceful expectation.

    Ironically, Al felt like doing the exact opposite. This came about for a variety of reasons. It was clear they were after Felix and mislabelled him as a demon. He was a vampire, not a demonic entity from the infernal realms. Al knew the difference. It was all a matter of origin, at least from his perspective. If you consider races and species based on their culture and origins. It is clear the difference between vampires and demons.

    Al tried to explain this to all present. The articulate words of reason flowed out, only to be stomped by stern ignorance. Then they physically stomped him as well, because being a reasonable fellow apparently demands a beating. Once they had finished, the leader finally shifted from a physical threat to a magical one. Cupping his hand, he produced a fireball, presenting it like a gift. The gift of burning ones face off if they don¡¯t talk.

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    Deciding he had enough of this, Al took a deep breath and blew at the fireball, like a five-year-old blows out a candle. Instead of getting his birthday wish, the fire gorged itself on the excess air and combusted. The leader took the blade face first, knocking him off his chair, singed from eyebrows to chin.

    His cohorts looked down at their leader, stunned by the silence. Eventually, they came out of their stupor, helping up their leader. Casting an accusatory glare at their captive, Al only smiled, as if he was completely innocent. That was until he whistled softly, sending a thin trail of air slicing his captor''s cheek. A thin trail of blood dribbled down from the cut.

    ¡°Looks like blood''s back on the menu, boys.¡± Al commented to one person in particular.

    That person was all but dead, laid carefully on the ground with a sheet over his body. Before anyone could realise, the dead man sat up, the sheet still draped across his face. The thin material revealed red eyes glowing through it.

    In a flash, the form that could have been featured in a low budget horror flick disappeared. Leaving behind a fluttering sheet, slowly descending to the ground. Appearing behind them, the now awake Alek battered aside two of the robed men. Lunging on the leader and sinking his fangs into the man''s neck. Blood gushed out like a geyser; it was not a clean bite. Alek pulled and teared like a bulldog with a chew toy.

    The nameless leader screamed his head off. It was not a manly scream. Macho does not last long when a hungry Nosferatu tears a chuck from your neck. The lackeys were stunned, but not for long. Al whistled again, sending several wind blades to slice through his restraints. Rising to his feet, free as a bird. The lackeys were both horrified at the vampire''s rampage and the sudden freedom of Al.

    Banking on this moment, Al raised his palms, sending a gush of wind towards the two most nearby. It sent them flying to crash into a nearby wall. They slumped to the ground, knocked out of the fight. The last standing was a woman. She raised an amulet in her defence. It reminded him of a priest trying to repel a demon with the power of Christ.

    Strangely curious about what would happen, Al manifested a wind barrier and braced for impact. Nothing did, and that only made her even more frightened. Instead of laying down her holy weapon, she turned it upon Alek. The vampire was still chowing down on the now dead zealot. He was not paying attention. He paid for his ignorance when a holy light emanated from the amulet.

    This holy radiance burned to the vampire, sending him scurrying back against the wall. Crouching behind Al''s bed, he could escape some of the attack. Deciding to intervene, Al sent a gust of wind, sending her flying into the wall. She stumbled, dropping her holy relic. Seizing the opportunity, he lassoed the item with a wind blade, pulling it to him.

    The artefact leapt off the ground, landing in his open palm. With his prize in hand, he didn¡¯t even hesitate, presenting the weapon towards Alek. Just like before, when he channelled the exorcist, nothing happened. This failure pissed him off way more than the last time. So, in that moment, he vowed he would rip the secrets of holy relics from these zealots.

    Now that he has dealt with all enemies. He turned to Alek, finally peeking out from his hide hole. The vampire, covered in blood, proved that he was indeed a messy eater. Al apologised for trying to smite him with holy might. It didn¡¯t bother him, at least he made no facial reaction.

    Now that the vampire was chill and no longer trying to eat anyone else. Al wondered why no one was disturbing them. He had an idea and so pulled his magic glasses out of thin air. Examining the room, it became clear what was what. A silence spell covered the entire room. Likely the zealots brought some sort of magic item or one of them knew spell craft.

    His eyes glanced all over, noticing anything with a magical flux. One item intrigued him the most. The robe used to tie him up emanated an odd wavelength. It was magical of a form, yet how it interacted with its surroundings was odd. It seemed to draw in magical energy. Thinking it over, Al concluded.

    ¡°No way is that an anti-magic rope. Or a magic siphoning rope?¡± He queried no-one.

    Thinking it over, he understood why the zealots seemed so confident. This rope would have negated all his runes and spells. Luckily for him, an air spirit blessed him with spirit magic. With that in mind, he tried to think about his next move. Shelving that for now, he turned to regard Alek. The vampire seated himself on the bed, licking the stray blood splatters covering his hands.

    The act reminded him of a dog, or perhaps a terrifying cat. Still, he had awoken the vampire to escape, but also for an experiment. Recalling last night when Alek fell asleep, the simple fact intrigued Al as a dead man could sleep. He relived the events of last night, his mind going back to the past.

    Checking him out while he slept, Al noticed he appeared perfectly dead. Examining the corpse with his magic glasses, he verified that whatever energies that animate him were still there. Dubbing this unlife force, he compared them to his prior evidence.

    ¡°From prior examinations, there is an energy force that animates the undead vampire sub type, designated Nosferatu. This unlife force noticeably reduces during physical activity, the reduction is even more noticeable during cellular regeneration. Once this energy reaches a minimum, blood is required. Feeding replenishes this energy and the vampire can go about its business.¡± Speaking out loud, he confers to his notebook.

    ¡°Based on measurements, if the vampire reduces their physical activity to the minimum, they can go without blood for a week, perhaps even several. Further experiments may be required.¡± Writing a few notes, he turns to the sleeping vampire.

    ¡°Another more interesting observation is during sleep or more accurately death like hibernation. Their unlife force is completely static with no noticeable reduction. Theoretically, that means the vampire can possible hibernate indefinitely.¡± Finishing his thought and jotting down a few more notes.

    Examining the vampire, Al thought about what to do next. Then an idea struck, accompanied by a cheeky grin. ¡°Let''s begin a new experiment. How do you wake up a sleepy vampire?¡± He wrote before placing his notebook on the bed.

    Leaning over, he wondered how to handle this. Several ideas crossed his mind, but one was superior. ¡°Wake up!¡± He repeated a few times, to no avail. Resorting to snapping his fingers over the man''s face. Still not even a twitch. ¡°Good morning, Vietnam!¡± He bellowed a quote from a beloved film. Unfortunately, the power of Williams could not stir the vampire.

    Coming back to the present, he made a mental note that blood was an effective tool for waking up a vampire. It was an obvious method, yet he felt it was too obvious. Still, he couldn¡¯t refute the evidence and slotted space in his journal.

    With his mental notes made, he turned his mind to his companions. Briefly leaving his room, he checked on the others. They were all snoozing in their beds. Joan was snoring loudly. Her brother seemed to sleep through it. Perhaps he had gotten used to the sound.

    With the notion of their safety firmly in hand, he returned to his room. The first thing he did was check on Alek. He had not consumed the captives like they were an all you can eat buffet. With that in mind, he left the vampire to chill; he appeared well fed and content.

    Searching through his captives, he found several interesting articles. Three of the zealots had amulets of their faith. Likely, they were used to channeling the power of their patron spirit. He wondered if Ventus had such a religion; he hadn''t thought to check on the temples. Deciding to shelve that for later, he gathered the three amulets, pocketing them for later study.

    The other objects were more of the mundane, some Helgosian currency, a few parchments of written messages and a small crystal. The parchments contained several traded messages. They were all from the other side of the conversation. One stood out, detailing Al''s arrival in Helgos.

    ¡°So, they had spies in the city. Great.¡± He muttered.

    Despite that, the rest of the parchments had little information. Sighting mostly of potential demons and heretics. A man asserted possession, while a woman alleged seduction by a demon. Al''s thoughts immediately went to Arthur, deciding to give him a warning when he gets the chance.

    Turning his attention to the crystal, giving it a cursory examination. He determined it was an enchanted item, probably created by a wizard. It contained a basic silence spell that encompassed a certain radius. The fact of its faint glow means it was likely active and maintaining the soundproofing.

 Chapter 29 - Interrogation

    Sensation returned in an instant and Al snapped back to consciousness. The groggy sight of a wooden floor came into view, titling his head, he inspected the partially cleaned-up patch of vomit. Hoping he had not been the dispenser of such a stain.

    Rising, he noticed he was sprawled across several adjacent chairs. Either he or someone had arranged them in a makeshift sleeping arrangement. Arising to an upright position, he clasped his forehead.

    Letting out a soft groan he endured the raging headache as foggy memories came flooding back. Vague images of drinking, singing and jovial laughter mentally surfaced.

    Al took stock of his surroundings, the world, once blurry and out of focus became clearer. The tavern, a place where he had consumed a considerable amount of liquor stretched out before him.

    ¡°Your awake, finally.¡± A voice hit him from the side like a semi-truck running over his brain.

    The voice was grating and hammered his brain with a gruelling headache. Shaking his head to counter the pain, Al turned around and spotted the young Felix seated at the end of the table.

    He was wearing a fresh grey tunic without any accessories at all, the impatient stare was evident on his pale face. Grunting in pain, Al ascended. Sighing heavily, he glanced at Felix, trying to gauge his level of pissed off.

    Noticing the young man giving him a cold glare, Al realised what he was in for. it ¡°Go ahead boy, have at it.¡± He said, dejected.

    Instead of answering, he was puzzled, not understanding, but not for long, soon he reclaimed his wits. ¡°You said you would take care of us?¡± He accused.

    The boy demanded answers, he had been wounded by Al''s recklessness. Al could barely stay upright, still, he mustered enough brain cells to respond.

    ¡°I intend to.¡± He answered.

    Felix inhaled sharply, ready to launch into a tirade ¡°You call this taking care of us; you took us to a tavern.¡± He gestured emphatically to the dark and gloomy surroundings. ¡°My sister was propositioned by three men¡ªthree men!¡ªafter being here for just ten minutes!¡± His voice elevated to a borderline shout as he thrust three fingers into his face.

    Al realised the boy was right and so started the process of soothing the wrathful vampire. ¡°I am sorry about that; taverns are not exactly known for having respectable company.¡± He said apologetically.

    ¡°Yet, this place is the perfect cover, most would not expect you and her amongst the riff-raff.¡± He gestured to his surroundings, making his point.

    Felix thought about a rebuttal, but he was too mentally exhausted to try, instead, he slumped into his chair. ¡°What now? My sister went out to buy supplies, you said something about a trip north.¡± Swiftly he changed the subject, still maintaining his displeasure.

    ¡°We are going to head out this morning, we will be meeting a few new friends at the northern gate.¡± He explained, feeling a twinge of unease. ¡°So, get your sister and meet me outside the inn.¡± He added.

    A pounding headache was there, but instead of succumbing he ignored it, nodding to the young man, he made his way out of the tavern. Exiting the double doors, he covertly withdrew an old backpack out of thin air. Strapping it to his back, he donned the appearance of a brave adventurer. Satisfied with his attire he waited patiently for his companions.

    Surrounding him were the bustling streets filled with peasants. Each and every one of them scurried around at first light. Breathing in the fresh air, he felt the fatigue leave him. Soon enough a voice carried on the wind, it originated from inside and spoke in a shrill female voice.

    ¡°You''re finally awake.¡± The words were dripping with indignation.

    Felix''s elder sister appeared before him and for a moment, Al was concerned but he soon left that feeling behind. ¡°I am, did you sleep well in your humble lodgings?¡± He asked with a slight note of sarcasm.

    Joan snorted, getting used to their new companion''s sarcastic demeanour. ¡°I can''t complain, it was decent of you to provide lodging.¡± She sincerely thanked him, not even a trace of sarcasm.

    Taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanour, Al was quickly taken off guard, his next words stuck in his throat. Joan instead shifted to her usual self as if the former sincerity didn¡¯t suit her.

    ¡°Still, you could have told us you were going to get blackout drunk.¡± She chastised.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Upon reflex, he stood straight, the old instincts from his youth taking hold. Initially disturbed by this turn of events, he quickly sank deeper into the sensation. ¡°I apologise, it was rude of me to partake.¡± He mustered up all the politeness and gentlemanly demeanour he had discarded years ago.

    Thankfully she accepted the apology and the two were finally civil. Only for the awkward silence to set in, both not knowing where to go from here. Al scratched his chin, trying to come up with a next topic of discussion and Joan just smiled like nothing was off.

    "So, when do we leave?" Felix interjected and Al felt a sigh of relief when someone broke the ice.

    ¡°We will make our leave soon; I first must check in with the wizard''s guild.¡± He declared and the siblings nodded.

    The three left the inn and plunged into the city''s depths towards their destination. Visiting the wizard''s guild for a brief moment to log his journey north. Greeting the receptionist with a smile, he spun her a tale.

    He was lying his ass off and informed her of his plans to visit the northern ruins of the old wizard kings. She smiled, accepting every word as if it were gospel. The siblings stared dumbstruck as he spun the intricate web of deception. If they weren''t in the know, they would have believed him.

    Soon after leaving the guild, Felix could no longer hold his tongue. ¡°Why did you lie?¡±

    Al grinned evilly, enjoying these moments when he could flex the old con man that lay dormant in that old criminal heart of his. Becoming a hero didn''t erase his past and he had no interest in being a better man. Sure he enjoyed being a vigilante, it was cool and reminded him of the old comic books he used to read as a child.

    But nothing was better in life than gaming the system, finding exploits and taking advantage of everything that was on offer. He wondered if that made him a bad person, but only briefly.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t really tell them I was heading to the old ruins of the upire, it¡¯s forbidden lands as far as I can tell.¡± He explained, shrugging.

    The siblings parsed his words, their brows furrowed in thought, wondering if sticking with this kind of man was in their best interest. The two collectively decided that he was the best option they had.

    Soon they made their way north, passing several checkpoints with ease. The sigil of the wizard''s guild was draped around Al''s neck, the necklace was laced with a metal chain, connected to a medallion with a stave and wand crossing each other.

    The sigil allowed the trio to pass through with ease and eventually, they reached the northern gate. It was a massive structure of black stone and the faint emanations of magic weaved into the structure were obvious to his trained eye.

    The gate itself stood taller than every building surrounding it. Battlements dotted the structure with soldiers patrolling them. The gate itself was the typical medieval construct made of steel with teeth sliding into the ground. It was akin to a giant maw, devouring caravans as they passed through.

    Al looked around, trying to locate his associates and after some time, he spotted them. The pair was leaning beside a carriage and with them in sight he made his way over, greeting them as he approached.

    ¡°Hello there.¡± He spoke in the manner of one of his favourite characters back on earth.

    James and Sally turned to greet him, Sally¡¯s expression shifted quickly from a pleasant smile to an annoyed scowl. ¡°You''re late.¡± She chastised.

    Before Al could speak in his defence, James cut in. ¡°Come on Sal, they are only late by a few minutes, give the man a break.¡± The bulky man with an imposing form towered over the rest.

    Despite his appearance akin to a barbarian ready to crush skulls, he was a pretty nice guy. The one he nicknamed Sal, glared at him with annoyance. Despite that, her eyes softened once she noticed the pleading gaze of her companion.

    ¡°Fine, but remember I am holding you responsible, don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t notice you sneaking off to the tavern.¡± Agreeing with James, she shot back, laying his sins bare.

    Al was confused before a hazy memory suddenly returned. During his drunken escapades in the tavern, James had slinked back to drink with him. The two merrily had one pint and then six, the memories became blurry after that.

    Al decided to ignore that and promptly changed the subject. ¡°So, are we heading out? I see there is a caravan behind you.¡± He queried.

    Sally and James glanced back. ¡°Yes, my man, we worked out a sweet protection gig. They should take us all the way to Helgos and from there we go our own way.¡± He explained, grinning like he was the best negotiator in the world

    Al glanced back at the two siblings, they both looked a little sheepish. ¡°Well, that sounds good, I and these two are planning to head to Paru.¡± With a pleasant smile, he lied through his teeth.

    Sally frowned before the light of recollection sparkled in her eye. ¡°Paru, I have heard of the place, pretty rough territory neither imperial nor federation.¡± Her gaze sharpened, lingering on the two child companions.

    Before anyone could speak up, Al replied confidently. ¡°No worries, I have been informed I will be well received, the wizard''s guild confirmed this.¡± He attempted to put their minds at ease.

    James merely nodded, accepting the answer, Sally, on the other hand, snorted. Her anger was likely provoked by the mention of the wizard''s guild. Paying that no mind, he gestured for them to lead on.

    Before Alistair could follow, he felt a tug on his cloak and glancing back, he noted Joan glaring back at him. Her questioning gaze quickly unveiled the truth. Pre-empting a tirade, he spoke first in a hushed whisper.

    ¡°We are not actually going to Paru.¡± He explained, eyeing both of the siblings.

    The two glanced back confused and gestured for him to continue. ¡°We are going to the Ruins of Nosfera.¡± Letting that statement hang, he paused.

    The siblings gasped, their bodies tensed and a shiver ran up their spine. They recognised that location and they knew why everybody stayed out of there.

    ¡°But those lands are forbidden, by imperial decree, even the federation stays out. Everyone knows that.¡±

    ¡°Forbidden huh, now where is your sense of adventure, don¡¯t you want to learn of your heritage?¡± Al grinned, offering the sweet nectar of forbidden knowledge. ¡°Come on, who wouldn¡¯t want to explore the ruins of the once great Upireon Empire?¡± Leaving that question hanging he gestured for them to follow.

 Chapter 30 - Riot!

    With his goal now solidified, he bailed on the room. He found his companions waiting in the hall. Felix looked worried. Joan was casing the exits and Alek was the aloof vampire. ¡°Now that we have the band back together. What do you say we blow this joint?¡± Al spoke, using idioms that went over their medieval heads. ¡°Nevermind, I mean let''s vacate Helgos and make our way north. Things are getting heated around here.¡± Everybody agreed and so they made their way to the exit.

    ¡°What about Sally and James? Where are they?¡± Joan asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. They said they were going out on business, but other than that, they didn¡¯t explain.¡± Al explained. The group looked grim. The concept of their friends getting hurt during the riot weighed heavily on them. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we will catch up to them somehow.¡± He assured, trying to lift their spirits.

    With everyone ready, Alek sufficiently covered from head to toe, they made their way to the main area. The inn was a buzz with patrons. They were all huddled in groups. Some were yelling, and others looked around, concerned. It was clear they had realised the situation. Before Al could even set foot on the wooden floor. Something smashed its way through the front door. All that remained were wooden splinters and a hefty repair bill. That and the corpse they had just disposed of by throwing it through the door.

    Pandemonium abruptly broke out as it became clear living in this kingdom is a problem. Not just because a riot was going on, it was the fact that have the patrons were wizards. He could see floating fireballs, electrical discharges, ethereal daggers and odd magic he had never seen before. They were all directing their ire at the exit.

    Before they knew it, a figure entered. He was not subtle, bursting through the shattered doorway and a holding a burning flag. It was clearly the flag of the empire, and he was waving it around proudly. ¡°Down with the empire!¡± He screamed.

    A flurry of magic spells flew towards him, quickly extinguishing his burning flag. Fireballs, lightning bolts, magic arrows, some sort of acid javelin. They burned and sliced the man to death, sending him flying out of the establishment. The patrons then let out a loud cheer, celebrating, annihilating a single flag burner.

    Deciding these people were a tad nuts, Al suggested they slick away out the backdoor. He got not a single voice in opposition. Eventually, they made their way and exited the inn to a back alley. There was no one in sight and so Al outlined the plan.

    ¡°We will head to the eastern gate. Hopefully, the gate guards will allow us to pass. With the way they are rioting, there will probably be a massive line. Regardless, we will think up an idea when we are there, ok?¡± He explained, getting more nods of approval.

    With his group all on board, they slowly made their way through the alleyway. Reaching the end, they found a deserted street and quickly crossed. They moved through around three different alleyways before encountering life. It was not the reasonable kind. They looked to be a gang of thugs taking advantage of the riots.

    About six men surrounded a seventh man. This fellow was not alone and was pressing a woman against the wall. The woman struggled under the man''s weight as he tore strips off her clothes off. The group egging him on, with suggestions to cut or hit her. It was clear what was going on and just before Al could turn the rapists into mincemeat, a rock sailed past.

    Joan had picked up a rock and threw it accurately at the rapist. Hitting him squarely in the back, the rock landed centre mass. He jerked in pain, vocalising his displeasure before tripping over his pants and landing face first. The woman took this chance to bolt in the other direction. The rest of the gang whoever turned their glares at the one that threw the rock.

    They were not pleased and the one that was hit lifted his head, muttered bitch and manifested a flying dagger. The strange-looking weapon appeared out of thin air and sailed towards Joan. Raising his hands in defence, Al manifested a wind barrier. Instead of deflecting the weapon, it went right on through, planting in her chest.

    It all happened in a moment. What followed was not pleasant. ¡°Wizards everywhere. They really need to regulate this place!¡± Al shouted, reaching out to claim the man''s life.

    Stretching his palm forward, a tendril of wind reached out. Wrapping around the man¡¯s neck, he jerked the leash, pulling him forth. The tendril of wind swiftly ripped him from the ground and jerked him into a close range. Manifesting a dagger of wind, Al stabbed the hovering man in the chest, piercing his heart. Falling limp, he released him, dead as a doornail.

    His associates didn¡¯t take that well. Each of them drew steel. While two of them manifested glowing daggers. While they all got ready to rumble, the loud wail of a brother echoed all around. Before Al could even do anything, Alek jumped into action. With the cloud cover and the shadow from the building. He needn''t fear the power of the sun and so he moved faster than the eye. Arriving within the range of the cutthroats, the two wizards launched their daggers.

    Piercing undead flesh, Alek was neither deterred nor harmed. Bowling into their ranks, he slashed with his claws, eliminating the two men in an instant. The weapons he called hands shredded throats, arms, torso.

    Not being idle, Al sent a wind blade, slicing the two wannabe wizards in half. The last remaining bandit raised his sword, shivering in fear. Instead of being torn to shreds, Alek merely stared at the ground. Picking up one sword and getting lost in the blade''s reflection. In that moment, he saw visions in the blade, camps on fire, blood in the street. Visions of horror plagued him in that single moment. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Trying to capitalise on the lull in battle. The cutthroat slashed with his sword; the action awakening something instinctual in the vampire. Instead of reacting like a beast, another instinct emerged. Performing an upward parry, he diverted his enemy''s blade before leaning into a riposte. The attack looked practised yet rigid. Neither of that mattered, as he cleanly cut the enemy.

    His death was certain, yet Alek continued his advance, thrusting his blade into the man''s chest, pinning him to the wall. His vision shifted away from reality. The cutthroat''s face was replaced by an elderly man. Instead of a dark alleyway, his surroundings were a burning cabin. Confused, the vampire looked around and saw that someone had ransacked the place, breaking chairs and tables. The state of the cabin was not what drew his attention. It was the young woman, no older than fifteen, crying over a corpse. With tears in her eyes and wailing, she could hear the sounds of hearty laughter in the distance.

    Looking deeply into her eyes, he saw only misery and hatred. She aimed this hatred at him, the man who took away everything she loved. She asked why and he couldn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t know how to speak or think clearly. He served his creator. That was all he knew. Yet there were other things, buried deep, that he could not ignore.

    Slowly, the vision faded and reality set in. He was standing before a corpse, pinned to the wall, blade in his hand. He didn¡¯t know what to do, nor how to articulate what he felt. There wasn¡¯t enough within for him to express himself, so he leaned into the only instinct that made sense... Hunger. Fangs descended, a throat was in reach, the rest was merely a blur of blood.

    While Alek was clearly working through some stuff. Al tended to his wounded companion. Felix was beside himself with tears and worry. In a second, the powerful day walking vampire turned into a scared boy. ¡°Family is truly our greatest weakness.¡± Al muttered. ¡°Then again, what else can we fight for?¡± He added, getting all sentimental over here.

    Shifting his gaze to the panting Joan, it was clear her injuries were severe. The blade pierced her stomach, and she likely didn¡¯t have long. Felix pleaded with Al to aid her, yet he wasn¡¯t that skilled in healing others.

    ¡°You must do something! A spell or a potion!¡± He demanded.

    Al thought over the situation and realised he should have got some potions from James. He mentally kicked himself for not being able to heal her, especially since this was the second time she got injured. He decided on a drastic move.

    ¡°Felix, I have an idea that may save her.¡± He declared, pulling the boy out of his fear.

    Felix nodded for him to act, and he did so. Withdrawing his enchanted glasses, he examined Joan magically. ¡°Damn, is everyone on this planet got mana circuits? High magic indeed.¡± He muttered. Putting back his glasses, he withdrew a ballpoint pen. ¡°Hold her Felix, this will hurt.¡± Directing Felix to grab her arms, Al isolated her right shoulder.

    Pressing the pen against flesh, a soft light shone from the tip. Burning flesh and prompting Joan to struggle. The pain of the dagger and now the pain of a searing pen intermingled into a new cacophony of suffering. Felix, however, didn¡¯t give in to the urging to stop. He trusted that whatever Al was doing was for his sister''s benefit.

    Al began drawing a simple diagram into the skin. Branding her shoulder with a diagram like his own healing rune. It was not exact and had some minor variations. He had come up with an idea he was reticent to test. Creating new runes with a complex mana regulation sub-spell. It was an idea that he was applying to a living host.

    The act was dangerous, insane on Matesh. But with this world high magical field, these people could take it. Finishing the brand, he swiftly returned the pen and forewarned Felix of what happens next. With a nod from the brother, Al pulled the ghostly blade from her stomach. Despite being transparent and its conjurer dead, it was oddly solid. Shelving experiments for later, he commanded Felix to compress his hands to the wound, stopping the blood flow.

    Once he restricted her wound, he placed his palm on the rune. It shone with an ethereal light, spreading to cover her entire body, bathing her in healing energy. Every part touched experienced a shudder of energy and rejuvenation. The blood flow from her wound stopped, and the skin closed. Her body healed in seconds, her ragged breathing replaced by a soft breath.

    She opened her eyes, believing for a second, she died. Instead of reaching for whatever afterlife she believed in. Instead, she was face to face with her crying brother.

    ¡°Congrats Jo, you are the second person to survive flesh runes.¡± Al stated proudly.

    The siblings embraced, taking a moment for themselves. Al left them alone; he had a vampire to look over. Alek sat against the wall, his sword by his side, blood dripping from his lips. Leaning down, Al pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Dabbing away some of the blood, Alek remained still, letting him do his work.

    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it, my man. The bastards deserved a good killing.¡± He reassured, noticing the vampire''s expression.

    For a vampire who had just gone bestial on a bunch of thugs. He looked positively horrified by the act. Al had an inclining what was wrong.

    ¡°What am I?¡± Alek muttered. His words were ill formed, like a child barely capable of speech.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good question. I guess you are remembering stuff.¡± He replied. ¡°Well, you are a vampire, my friend, and a deadly one at that.¡± He said, gesturing to the corpses.

    He could have let him down slowly, but the corpses were far too obvious to ignore.

    ¡°Vampire?¡± Alek mouthed. ¡°Monster.¡± He added.

    Shaking his head, Al quickly dissuaded him of that notion. ¡°Monster is a matter of perspective. You don¡¯t need to sweat the details. Now come along, we got to bounce.¡± He declared, putting his hand out.

    The two stood up, Al putting his hood back on and doing his best to clean the blood. After robbing the corpse of their meagre cash. The group continued their journey, making their way closer to the eastern gate. The sound of the riots, explosions and general mayhem were not too far off.

    With the group making haste, Al noticed how Joan was keeping pace and exceeding her fellow members. She seemed to possess an abnormal amount of stamina and vitality. This would not be unusual after a recent healing, but that should have worn off by now. They had had run for half an hour; such spells don¡¯t linger for that long.

    She appeared joyful, energetic, like she could run without exhaustion. This did not matter currently. They needed to run and run they did. Making their way through the many alleyways, the sound of voices finally stopped them. Aligning themselves against the wall, Al peaked out into the street. A mass of fleeing citizens blocked the way, crowding the gate.

    Shouting, the mass of scared people raged against the guards, like a zombie swarm. Clearly, escape through the gate was not a valid option, that was, until something else happened. On the other side of the street, another swarm was incoming. These were not average citizens, they were rioters. Chanting their mantra as they approached with burnt flags and raised weapons.

    ¡°Down with the empire!¡± They chanted.

    Their footsteps and chanting alerted the less violent citizens, and they stared down at each other.

    ¡°It''s like the LA Riots on steroids up in this city.¡± Al cursed, now between a rock and a hard place.

 Chapter 31 - Blue Dragon

    Considering their options and the battle royal between rioters and the guards was about to begin. The group had limited options, but then again, the simplest solution is the best. Al turned to his comrades, eager to tell them his brilliant plan.

    ¡°Listen, guys.¡± He said, drawing them in a huddle.

    ¡°Once these guys smash each other''s to bits. We run for it.¡± He explained with a bright smile.

    All he got was the dead pan looks from his comrades. Except for Alek, the vampire just tried to copy everyone else. He made a poor impression of seriousness, one eyebrow down, eyes squinting and one fang out. Al gave him a mental A for effort.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s dumb.¡± Joan said.

    Her eyes were dilated, and she was panting. She was fidgeting, like standing still was such a chore.

    ¡°How about we rush them, like stab them over and over until they can''t stop us from leaving?¡± She spoke in a rush, making fake stabbing motions with her invisible dagger.

    She reminded Al of a Tweaker high on study aids. He would put a pin on that for now. Escape was paramount.

    ¡°Love your enthusiasm Jo, but I think running is a...¡± He trailed off, his gaze cast above.

    ¡°Actually, better idea. How are you guys with heights?¡± He asked.

    Even the crazy Tweaker looked shocked. Felix seemed to be more worried about his slightly crazed sister. Alek was, of course, being Alek. Felix, despite his concern, spoke up first, raising his hand.

    ¡°Not keen on heights. Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess you will not like my new plan.¡± Al remarked mischievously.

    Withdrawing his engraving pen, he pressed it against his lips in thought.

    ¡°Now I can probably fly up with Alek, but we''re going to need another flier. If Felix is too much of a pussy, guess we need to continue our experiment dear Jo.¡± Fixing his gaze to Joan, he readied his pen.

    A few moments later, she had a brand-new tattoo on her other shoulder. Al then when on to explain the plan. It was short and sweet but got the gist across. Felix was psyching himself up while his sister, now sporting a brand-new tattoo, was excited to do something crazy.

    Al placed his arm around Alek. The vampire didn¡¯t even flinch. Testing a slight levitation, he knew he could handle sustained flight with the weight. Alek was remarkably chill with flying. Perhaps it was a lack of vitals and certain hormones to produce a fear response.

    Joan wanted to princess carry her brother. He wasn¡¯t having that. So she ended up giving him a piggyback ride. With her amped up, something Al will investigate later. She easily held her brother''s weight. Instructing her on how to use the new rune. She activated the diagram with her will, causing it to glow faintly.

    The glow spread across her body and passing over her brothers as well. Slowly, the pair levitated, Felix gripping tightly.

    ¡°I will direct you with wind magic. Just following along.¡± Grasping the air, he surrounded the siblings with an air current.

    The four ascended, landing on the roof of the building. Assessing their surroundings, they could see the two sides having at each other. The rioters were clashing with the guards in a brutal melee. Magic was being flung all over the places, and the civilians were trying to flee through the gate. The situation was a perfect distraction. Soon after, they prepared to fly, and then a sonic boom echoed through the air. An intense gust of wind passes by, and a figure comes into view.

    ¡°Holy superman!¡± Al remarks, his eyes widened at the sight.

    You could only describe the figure, passing by like a blur before stopping in mid-air, by calling him a medieval superman. With a cape, armour, broad shoulders, and a superhero physique. The man looked like a Grecian demigod, decked out in pristine Draconic armour and a cape. The group ducked down, not wanting to be seen. They watched as events unfolded.

    The flying man descended to the warring masses. Looking down like a god judging wayward children, he roared a sonic scream. The act drove everybody to their knees, clutching their bleeding ears. Satisfied with their listening postures, he spoke.

    ¡°People of Helgos, I am the Blue Dragon, your saviour!¡± Amplifying his voice, he directed his words to all comers. ¡°I beseech you to stop this foolish conflict, embrace each other as subjects of this great kingdom!¡± He added, not exactly pleading but gently insisting.

    The reaction was visceral and not what the Dragon wanted. Before he could get another word, projectiles came flying towards him. Ignoring these minor attacks, he tried to speak again. A rotten tomato hit him in the face, stopping him mid-sentence. The putrid fruit smeared across his jawline, falling limply.

    Looking down, he inspected his armour, trying desperately to keep his temper in check. "Appearances must be maintained," he repeated, forcing the words to be a mantra. The armour had suffered no damage, just a few stains he could easily wash out. The fact made him seethe his armour made him the hero he is. Without it, he would look no different from a commoner.  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    He understood this line of thought was irrational. His powers made him better. It was foolish to think that a piece of attire could change that. Yet he did so and hated whoever threw that rotten piece of filth. Scanning the crowd, he could find several potential suspects. In that moment, he wished he could just vaporise them right now. But his orders prevented him from doing that. He must inspire, he must become a beacon of hope to the masses.

    ¡°I¡¯m really sick of all the marketing bullshit.¡± He spat, feeling his mouth grow hot.

    He could taste the heat on his tongue. He tried to ignore it. Realising that he was getting nowhere, he tried another method. Descending to the ground, he came in between the two groups. The rioters had been the ones that threw the fruit. He wanted to rip them limb from limb, but kept himself in check. Now, between the rioters and the guards, his presence was a calming factor. At least that¡¯s how he saw it. They were not fighting, just glaring and throwing insults.

    ¡°Is this another dog of the empire? Come to keep us in our place!¡± The leader of the rioters accused.

    He appeared to be a man in his early fifties, wearing a battered wizard''s robe. Likely a veteran of the guild or former member.

    ¡°Stop this now in the name of his imperial majesty!¡± One guard bellowed.

    He was nondescript, and the Dragon didn¡¯t care to acknowledge him. The leader of the rioters was his target.

    ¡°We all need to calm down. I¡¯m sure we can resolve this peacefully.¡±

    His words fell on deaf ears, chanting over him. Repeating down with the empire over and over. They were not keen on talking; they wanted to fight. To express themselves in a base instinctual manner. He knew he couldn''t reason with them and that all of this was pointless. Still, public relations were important and so he tried again.

    Before he could get out a word, someone lobbed another piece of fruit at him. This one splattered across his armour, drenching the pristinely crafted artefact with juices. That was the last straw, and he knew it. There was a quiet voice at the back of his mind that told him to ignore the rising impulse. It sounded remarkably like Stillson.

    Opening his maw, he breathed white hot plasma on the insect, vaporising his upper half. The act felt good. Finally, he had silence. The rest of the morons were stunned stiff. Now he could assess the damage to his armour. He saw the complete ruin of his armour. If only that idiot didn¡¯t die so easily. He could have taught the man the error of his ways.

    Just as he was about to clean his armour. A high-pitched feminine scream resounded, the origin of such a scream came from a weeping woman. She was openly crying over the subdivided corpse he had just made. It was obvious why she was wailing; she was likely the man''s wife or sibling.

    This event struck everyone with fear. Many backed away, but others roared indignantly. Somehow, their protesting zeal overcame their fear. It was something he never understood with humans. Perhaps superior beings should not try to understand the minds of those lesser than them. These were his thoughts as they threw insult and condemnation towards him.

    ¡°Please, it was an accident.¡± He pleaded, as honest as he could be.

    In truth, it kind of was an accident. He let his temper get the better of him and someone died. It wasn¡¯t his fault the man provoked him. Yet despite his words, the crowd only got rowdier and rowdier. He couldn¡¯t take it, those glares, those eyes of pure horror. How could they look at him like that? He was a hero. He saved these little people from themselves.

    ¡°You killed him. How could you?¡± The wailing woman announced.

    The rest of the people joined in, admonishing his actions. He found it utterly pathetic. They who had rioted against the Empire. They were not admonishing him; no, he would not take this. Others joined in, and all he could see was the slowly encroaching red. His breath grew hot. They were crowding him, sapping away his space. Crowding him like a swarm of insects, he couldn¡¯t breathe. He needed to end this and end it now.

    ¡°Down with the Empire!¡± They repeated.

    Everything blurred. It was so frustrating. Glaring down, he tightly closed his eyes, trying to regain his calm. A few more attempts to calm them failed and in that moment, he decided enough was enough. He targeted the leader; subdividing him from shoulder to knee. Turning his head, his breath encompassed much of the populace. The screams started, but he ignored them, trailing a wide beam of death across the street. He swiftly decimated the rioters, leaving behind scattered body parts.

    Next, he turned to the guards. They were smart, already fleeing. He cut them down with a wide cross beam, slicing most of them in half. His anger was still boiling, so to relieve the stress, he tilted the beam downwards. To ensure everyone was dead, he tilted the beam downwards. Some turned to ash, while either were further subdivided into a chunk of singed meat.

    His bloody deed ended, and his calm returned. Casting his gaze across the nightmarish landscape. He saw bodies, or what remained of most, scattered everywhere. He had quelled the riot, with the death of most. There was no horror written on his face, merely a morbid fascination. He had never killed this many, the realisation of that struck him. Another notion arrived as well, and that one was a big problem.

    This was not good marketing; he was supposed to be a hero. He couldn¡¯t allow this to come out. While trying to figure out a plan, he received a lucky break. He saw a surviving, yet traumatised wizard. Flying over to the shivering worker of magic, he landed beside him. With no hesitation, the Dragon grabbed the man by the neck and ascended.

    ¡°So, this is how it''s going to go.¡± The Blue Dragon stated.

    ¡°You are going to blow yourself up like a good little terrorist. Now you may wonder what¡¯s my incentive is to commit suicide. Good question, my boy, because if you don¡¯t, I will burn your skin off piece by piece. You can either die for whatever cause you people believe in. Or suffer tremendously at my hands.¡± He explained, giving an ultimatum.

    The wizard terrorist struggled for a bit. Clearly trying to find a way out. The Dragon took this as a refusal and start gearing up to sear flesh. Ultimately, the wizard obeyed the instructions. Chanting under his breath, the man''s body glowed brightly. Exploding in a massive cloud of white light. The fire consumed the street.

    When the dust settled, only the Blue Dragon remained. Calmly wiping the dust and filth off his armour. It was an enormous task; he would need to get it professionally done. He turned to leave before remembering he should sweep the area. Witnesses would not be ideal. Closing his eyes, he directed all his concentration to hearing. Soon after, he heard three distinct heartbeats.

    It was strange. The first two heartbeats sounded normal. The third was softer, beating in a steady yet slow rhythm. Another strange occurrence was the fact he could hear the movements of four figures, yet only three heartbeats. I didn¡¯t matter, we would need to eliminate them.

 Chapter 32 - Superhero Battle

    Meanwhile, on a nearby roof, the sight they saw horrified the group of four. Each to different degrees. Al was used to mass casualties, but not to this scale. The rest were not so calm; they were afraid. Even Alek, in his undead state, was afraid. It was an instinctual fear, one based more on the mind rather than the body.

    The wrecking ball in human form turned to the roof, hiding the group, and smiled. Al knew what was about to happen, and shot. ¡°Run for the wall!¡± He ordered, and his companions hopped to it.

    They fled more out of fear than being ordered. They ran as fast as they could, the two vampires easily making the leap across the buildings. Joan, being unfamiliar with her new anti-gravity rune, had some trouble. In the end she made it, floating across the gaps awkwardly. Her brother aided her, giving her just enough push to get across.

    Meanwhile, the caped mass murderer vanished from his spot. Al found him floating above them, his mouth opened and ready. He was going to blast them with that destructive breath of his. A stray thought crossed Al''s mind. That guy would be the king of a chilli eating contest. As soon as the thought arrived, he ignored it.

    Gathering up as many spirits of the wind or whatever they are called. He sent the strongest wind blast he could muster. The gust of air collided with him like a truck. Such a force would throw into the air a normal individual. Here, it only annoyed him. Jostling him to the side, like a gust of wind, you don¡¯t expect walking down the sidewalk before going about your day.

    Despite the ineffectiveness of the attack, it gave his companions the seconds to jump the wall. All three disappeared over the wall and out of the city proper. Unfortunately, this escape did not extend to poor Al. He was still there and now facing a pissed off superman. The guy was levitating just above him. Not wanting to be intimidated, Al ascended.

    The two met in the sky, just above the city. They could both see the devastation of the riots. The military or the Dragon, in its rampage of justice, had reduced the devastation of the riots substantially. It didn¡¯t matter to the two. Neither of them concerned themselves with the outside world. All that matter was the enemy before them. Their reasons for fighting differed. Al wanted to distract the destructive being, while the Dragon only wanted Al¡¯s death.

    ¡°You kind of remind me of Superman, or maybe Ultraman.¡± Al spoke first, referencing his modest knowledge of superheroes.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± He asked indignantly.

    "Oh, you poor lad, someone hasn''t properly educated you."

    ¡°Just shut up and die!¡± The Dragon dispensed with pleasantries and struck first.

    Seizing Al by the neck, moving faster than the eye can see. In that moment, he could have died. His neck snapped like a twig. Of course, he had just unsealed his defective runes. The repulsion rune lit at the moment of contact. Kinetic force erupted, repelling everything around him. The kinetic force propelled the Dragon backward, and he barely regained his balance in mid-air.

    This was only a mere annoyance. That was clear. The Dragon cracked his neck, scowling at the ant that defied him. In a moment, he propelled forward, slamming into his enemy. The repulsion barrier activated, but instead of being repelled. The repulsion barrier sent Al flying into a nearby building.

    The spell absorbed much of the impact, leaving him dazed and stuck in a wall. Shaking his head, he got back his bearings. It was just in time; his opponent prepared his fire breath. Before his opponent could vaporize him, Al reached out his right palm. The Draconic rune writhed in his palm, ready to receive the attack.

    Just as the stream of plasma reached him. A dragon''s head, a spiritual manifestation, unfurled as the rune came alive. The manifestation gulped in the incoming blaze, sucking it down like a vacuum. The vortex of heat quickly dissipated, leaving Al with a smoking hand. His palm burned, the flame barely contained within fragile flesh. He knew his enemy did not possess true dragon fire. It was merely high intensity plasma.

    ¡°That mock dragon fire is not bad,¡± Al remarked, his body shivering in pain.

    ¡°But now it''s my turn!¡± He declared before delivering a counter.

    The Blue Dragon was shocked that his opponent not only survived a direct attack but also countered his dragon''s breath. It was a novel experience, and he did not like it. With these swirling thoughts and feelings, the distraction of his boiling rage, he barely had time to dodge.

    Al¡¯s palm was alight in flame. The dragon that dwelled within was free. Manifesting for a moment, it spewed true dragon fire into a thin and intense stream. The true dragon fire engulfed the Blue Dragon as it collided with Alistair''s enemy. The heat actually hurt; pain was not something he knew intimately. His armour melted, the mighty pauldrons he took pride in deformed. He could not allow this. Grunting in pain, he ascended to the sky.

    Escaping the stream of death, he took stock of the damage. The heat had charred his armour, and the metal had bent. His immaculate form was now covered in soot and ash. He couldn''t let this happen, so his rage grew stronger. Losing all sense of strategy, he flew directly at Al. His aim was a head on collision, followed by turning the man into a bloody paste.

    Al had just freed himself from the wall. Only to be slammed back into position. His repulsion barrier activated. This did not deter his enemy. He then slammed his fist against the barrier. Every blow shook the spell at its very foundation. It kept trying to expand the kinetic force, only to receive a stronger blow.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Punch by punch, the magic was losing cohesion. It would not last long. The fury in the man''s eyes told Al everything he needed to know. Once the barrier fell, he would be dead. It would not be a pleasant death; he knew that to be sure. He had to escape, but he couldn''t. In front of him was a maniac superman and behind him was a stone wall.

    He chose the wall out of the two options. Turning around, he blasted the stone with dragon fire. The wall melted in a second, revealing the interior of a bell tower. He hoped this wasn¡¯t a monument that had stood for centuries. But considering how superman was trying to stomp him into bloody paste, destroying national monuments is a lesser concern.

    Escaping through the makeshift portal, he flew into the bell tower''s interior. The giant iron bell was quite the sight. Too bad the crazy superman barrelled in, obliterating it within a second. Al quickly zoomed out from the falling debris, trying to get as much distance as he can.

    ¡°Come back here, maggot!¡± The Dragon roared.

    Breaking free from the tower like he was gliding through water. He demolished the tower, obliterating its foundations, causing it to collapse. The devastation to the surrounding area was immense. Luckily, the populace was elsewhere. Now back were they started; the staring contest began again.

    They floated in the air, just staring at each other. It was like a good old-fashioned western duel. Except they were levitating above a ruined city and instead of six shooters, they had superpowers and magic. The Dragon made the first move, sending a gout of plasma. Al absorbed the attack, the heat sucked into his right palm.

    Noticing Al¡¯s hand trembling from the attack, he realised there was a limit to how much he could absorb. Smirking with the knowledge, he inhaled a breath and fired. The heat was intense, Al did as expected, showed his palm and absorbed the incoming attack. Instead of stopping, he continued in earnest. Pumping out every bit of heat he could muster. The Blue Dragon knew his limits. He didn¡¯t have any.

    Keeping up the attack, he could see his enemy falter. The sight filled him with glee. Soon, he will fall, and I will crush his head underfoot. Oh, how he would love to hear that squelch again. He would never admit it, but he liked the sound.

    Al could not keep it up for much longer. Every gulp of fire the dragon buried deep in his palm took on, the more restless it became. Out of all the temperamental magic he possessed, this was the greatest. Eventually, the pain became too much to bear. Screaming in pain, he pulled his hand away and ascended into the sky. Climbing rapidly, he could vaguely see a figure following him.

    ¡°Go away!¡± He screamed, releasing the stored fire, blasting it downwards.

    The gout of flame was out of control, and he could barely keep it aimed. Instead of hitting his target, he set fire to thin air. His opponent vanished until a fist came from his left. It slammed into his barrier spell. He flew several metres but righted himself in the air. His palm was still blasting fire like a geyser.

    Before he could even counterattack, he was on him, pounding his fists into the barrier. Finishing with his two fists raised, he slammed down, sending Al crashing into the earth. Taking advantage, he flew down and rammed his foot down on the barrier. It shook and cracked under the oppressive weight. Al lay sprawled out like the Vitruvian Man, except with clothes and a bloody nose.

    He was struggling to concentrate because his head was full of sand. The constant pounding on the barrier did not help his concentration, nor did the sound of shattering. The barrier broke and the sight of a very pissed off superhuman was all that remained. Instead of roasting Al, he grabbed him by the neck, raising him into the sky.

    ¡°Sorry, what was that? I can''t hear you.¡± He mocked.

    Eventually, he got bored and threw his new toy at the nearest building. The impact shattered many bones in his very human body. Al was amazed he was still alive, and he thought the warm glow of his healing spell was probably keeping him alive.

    He really needed to work out a pain suppressant rune. That would have been great right now. Instead, the healing rune kept him alert and alive, while the rest of his body was slowly dying. Before he could get up, the Dragon sped right to him. He looked like he wanted to play rag doll. Al painfully raised his left hand and sent a bolt of lightning.

    The attack struck true, but he barely flinched from the thousands of volts. In fact, it seemed like it barely tickled him. To add insult to injury, he laughed boisterously, like the deadly lightning attack was so pathetic it was funny.

    ¡°So, this is how I die, well what better way to go out?¡± Al muttered.

    ¡°Agreed, whoever you are, you can consider it an honour to be crushed by me.¡± The Dragon stated, with all seriousness.

    ¡°Yeah, whatever, let''s get this done, shall we?¡± He coughed, rising to a shaky stance.

    The two stared each other down before the Dragon shrugged. Levitating a few feet in the air, he made ready to launch. Mustering up all his power, Al launched a volley of every projectile spell he had. Lightning streamed from his left, dragon fire for his right, and finally a strong wind blast. These powerful elemental attacks struck his enemy precisely. The attack lasted for only a few seconds, but it was the most power he could muster right now.

    The swirl of power subsided, his arms fell limp and his head felt light. Checking on his handy work, he noticed a completely unharmed and annoyed super being.

    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± He yelled, frustrated.

    ¡°Nice try, but we both know how this is going to go.¡± The Dragon declared.

    ¡°How would you like to die terrorist, broken neck, crushed to death or something special?¡± He inquired, listing all the ways he would genuinely kill the man.

    ¡°First off, I''m not a terrorist and second, I''m going to choose none of the above.¡± Al countered.

    Shaking his head, the Dragon decided he would kill this man. However, something else caught his attention - an enormous impact crater had formed to the left of him and the man. Dust concealed whatever just landed, eventually clearing up. It was a girl in her late teens, wearing leather armour.

    Her identity became clear the moment the pair of fighters gazed upon her face. The name Jasmine passed across Al¡¯s mind and he quickly worried she might recognise him. He had planned to avoid the genuine heroes of this world.

    ¡°The Heroic Trinity has arrived too late. I have already dealt with the evil threatening this great nation.¡± The Dragon claimed, gesturing to the destruction.

    ¡°And nearly destroyed an entire district of the city.¡± Jasmine stated, her face still impassive.

    The two glared at each other, the two heroes, neither backing down. She glanced for only a moment at Al, her eyes narrowing upon his form. They established a wordless connection, something neither of them expected. It felt like the same pull she had with her companions. She wanted to look into this, but the situation took precedence.

    And like that, three heroes faced off with each other amidst a ruined city.

 Chapter 33 - Three Heroes

    Introducing a new variable upset the current dynamic of this brutal fight. This third variable stood between a former hero and an angry humanoid dragon. Both sides were stunned. They hadn''t expected the dramatic entrance. This unknown figure patted the dust away from her strange attire. Oddly, the clothing had no damage from the impact.

    Before anyone could say a word, the Blue Dragon struck first. Speeding forward, his arm outstretched and ready to claim his victim. Grabbing him by the neck, ready to pummel him in a bloody heap. He had pushed his fist through Alistair¡¯s skull and out the back of his head.

    The intervention of a human wrecking ball stopped his attempted murder. Jasmine stepped forward, making craters in the ground and sped to her target. Barrelling into him, sending the dragon flying in the opposite direction. He slammed into a nearby building, through the wall and into the interior.

    What proceeded was an awkward silence between the two. Alistair, heaving and gasping, his body in a terrible shape. Jasmine, pristine and ready for a few dozen rounds, narrowed her gaze at the unknown figure.

    ¡°So, who are you?¡± She asked, crossing her arms.

    ¡°No-one of consequence.¡± He replied, channelling a certain pirate from the cinema.

    She didn¡¯t seem to notice the quote and instead continued insisting.

    ¡°I just saved your life. Doesn¡¯t that merit me a name?¡± She inquired, rather reasonably, as she saw it.

    ¡°True, still I think I would prefer to owe you a favour rather than to divulge who I am,¡± He countered.

    ¡°Wouldn''t I just use that favour, to compel you to tell me who you are?¡± She asked.

    ¡°That seems like such a waste of a favour.¡± He replied.

    Following that statement, she nodded, but not before detecting the return of a very pissed off super being. Climbing out of the rubble, the hero of Helgos, known as the Blue Dragon, emerged. Based on his appearance, he was none too happy with both two.

    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t have done that!¡± He declared with a snarl.

    ¡°He does not look happy.¡± Alistair commented, pointing a trembling finger at his attempted murderer.

    ¡°You think.¡± Jasmine stated rather bluntly.

    Jasmine was about to speak; her intent was to deescalate this already messed up situation. Despite her resolve, her right hand trembled slightly, memories of the past few hours slowly coming back. Someone eventually brought her out of this line of thinking. When evil superman launched himself across the distance and slammed into her. His intent was to return her prior attack tenfold.

    He did so and slammed his fist directly into her left cheek. Instead of the familiar and pleasurable sensation of bones breaking. He felt a similar sensation of punching a solid structure, one that could somehow withstand his force. Despite the resilience of her body, she still went flying. He felt a small sense of satisfaction, but knew he had caused minimal damage. He hated that feeling, that someone could challenge his might, but also found it exhilarating.

    Jasmine took the hit astoundingly well. There was pain, but not enough to jar her thinking. She suspected he held back much of his strength. No one has measured the true strength of this hero of Helgos. But with the blessing of Terranuk, this champion of earth, she could withstand the hit.

    She slid back a few feet, but righted herself and glare back. Feeling a sudden urge to return the punch in kind, she stamped down on the impulse. Enough people had died today and provoking him into an all-out brawl, will level the city.

    ¡°You need to stand down unless you want to destroy the very city you protect.¡± She stated firmly.

    Although she expected otherwise, this brought him to a standstill briefly. He stood there, thinking it over, but ultimately decided differently.

    ¡°I would rather kill you both and then take the glory.¡± He declared, opening his maw and breathing fire.

    Dodging the incoming inferno, Jasmine ran to the side, picked up some debris, and threw it. The hunk of stone exploded on impact, barely budging the seemingly invincible man. Cracking his neck, he launched himself forward. In mid-flight, a sudden gust of wind diverted his trajectory.

    Alistair, who reached a standing posture, whipped his hands into motion. Producing a tornado, he sent the man flying to the side and crashing into a nearby building. Confused, Jasmine looked at the man, a strange familiar feeling washed over her. Alistair felt it too, but was in too much pain to register it.

    Slamming his fist into the healing rune, his body glowed brightly. The healing was not perfect, but it took away much of the aches and pains. With his energy revitalised, he took to the sky, saluting Jasmine.

    ¡°Follow me.¡± He stated before flying towards the Blue Dragon.

    She pondered the request, but ultimately followed, leaping into the air. Landing rather poorly, she still hadn''t got a handle on her superhero leaps. Despite her lack of experience, she reached the now rising Dragon.

    ¡°I am going to rip off your arms!¡± He roared, seething with undeniable rage.

    Alistair ignored him and instead spoke to Jasmine.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± He yelled, sending another wind blast.

    The act had no result other than pissing him off and he leapt forward, intent on killing everything. Alistair, instead of fighting, flew at full speed in the northwest direction. Jasmine quickly understood what he was doing, yet was apprehensive about taking part. Her indecision was short-lived. The approaching fist made her act.

    Landing another punch, the Dragon laid into her guard. Blow after the human boulder blocked the blow. He seemed intent on killing her and then tracking down his other quarry. This was not to be. Her counter attack was just as devastating.

    The Blue Dragon, relying on his physical might, punched with reckless abandoned. One of these hits was on just the right angle, allowing Jasmine to slip into his guard and deliver a swift uppercut. The blow sent him flying, but she knew it wasn''t enough. Expecting a ferocious counter-attack of his own, she leapt away, following the mysterious stranger.

    The Dragon shook his head and flew after them. They battled through the streets, wind blasts here, superhuman punches there. In the end, it became obvious where they were heading. Clamouring and fearful voices filled the streets with sound. The busy intersection forced the trio to stop in their tracks. The sight of two familiar heroes caused the crowd to go into a frenzy.

    "The heroes are here, we''re saved!" people repeated." were some words spoken on repeat.

    The Blue Dragon wanted to kill his quarry, but with this many witnesses, he instead turned to Alistair. The man smiled with a wicked grin, before pointing to a building nearby, collapsed and filled with screaming civilians.

    ¡°Go on, heroes, the people are waiting.¡± He spoke, his tone sarcastic.

    ¡°Time to go Neo.¡± Further declaring, before taking a superhero flight pose and blasting into the sky.

    The Blue Dragon seethed, his eyes darting between the man he wanted dead and the masses begging for his help. Stuck with indecision, Jasmine''s actions forced his hand. Running into the crowd, she made her way through and into the mass of destruction. Before she could aid the screaming survivors, a figure flew into her way.

    He then rescued the civilians, pulling them out of the fallen building and pushing debris to the side. Jasmine wanted to help, but the memories of the past few hours came flooding back. Looking down at her bloodstained hands, the past became reality.

    Two hours prior.

    Jasmine had just left Peter¡¯s abode since her friend was writhing in pain. It got so bad; Elisara had to cast a sleep spell. He was not in a fit state, and neither was the rest of the city. They had already got reports of terrorist attacks and riots. She had not expected these kinds of events to occur in a fantasy world. But she realised that was a na?ve assumption. Any world with sentient bipeds would likely have similar problems to earth.

    Terrorism had been quite the concern back on her home earth. Her home nation of the United States had several past terrorism. Even a few riots she could recall from her childhood. The Las Angeles riots, for one example. This world seems to be plagued with similar issues, with magic in the place of guns.

    Now at the cusp of a crossroads, she had a hard time with her next decision. Seated against the wall outside of Peter¡¯s room, she pondered. Looking down at the blood staining her knuckles. She got a harsh look at what she could do to the fragile form humanity had. Though she was sure of the other races and perhaps some humans could withstand such a blow.  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    But for most, she was a dangerous weapon, and she needed to exert control over herself. The words of her father had a different tone. The man that contributed to his genetics in her creation, with a dim-witted secretary, was always a conundrum for her. Despite his insistence on financial care for her and her mother. He was rarely around during her childhood. But his influence was always present; he sent her to the same schools he attended and ensured she learned the same lessons he did.

    Later in life, he actually found time with her, but it wasn¡¯t the typical father-daughter events. They were always lessons and expectations. There was little in the way of fatherly love, but she was not absent from it. Her mother was a lovely woman and gave her enough love and affection that any daughter could need. Still, once she came of age, her father asserted his right over her.

    There were many arguments between her parents, so Jasmine intervened. She accepted what her father wanted, despite her mother''s protests. It was only rational. Her father would get what he wanted, he always did. This familial conflict was just a waste of time and emotion. Still, she wondered if that was the best course of action.

    There was no point wondering what could have been, only to learn from what had been. There has been a lot, one of her father''s stellar wisdom, for instance. He always used to say, emotions are there, to deny them is foolish. But to indulge them when they serve no purpose is even more foolish. Despite that, she could not help the feelings boiling inside her. I doubt her father ever prepared her for the act of taking a life. But what haunted her most is that is likely not the first to die.

    She shook herself out of this line of thinking and decided on rationality. Public relations primarily dictated her position and the positions of her companions. They were practically celebrities in most of the empire. But given the history of this vassal state and the current circumstances. Their popularity was definitely low.

    Her father always said that it is important to maintain appearances. They were heroes, summoned by another world and adorned as holy champions. She was not religious and cared little for their doctrine. What she understood was socio-political situations. She was not an expert, but she was likely more educated than most on this planet. At least in areas earth has been refining, magic being the exception.

    Analysing the situation, it was likely this riot has individuals behind it. The terrorist bombings would identify them as extremists. People would likely blame them, but I suspect a rival nation orchestrated this. I would suspect the Federation, or one of their member states. But I am not excluding the mysterious Wizard State of Ikarus. Because they are considered the true rulers of Helgos.

    I do not know how this will all play out. But for the benefit of me and my companions. It would be better if people saw the heroic trinity in a positive light. Also, if Helgos were to fall or separate from the Empire, that will probably be the match that lights the war.

    With this in mind, her plan was simple. Informing her associates that she plans to leave and assist the city in ending these riots. They were none-to-happy but ultimately deferred to her decision. Lucy, Frederik and Halmar accompanied, along with several imperial soldiers.

    They brought Lucy, because she insisted she could help. Initially, Jasmine was about to refuse. Since the girl would witness things, young girls should not. She eventually agreed when Lucy told all the torches in the hallway to turn off and on. Lucy''s control over fire became obvious, and she decided. Leaving the villa, they made their way through the streets to where the damage was thickest. Rubble and destroyed buildings surrounded them.

    ¡°Halmar, do you know the nature of these buildings?¡± She queried, eyeing the buildings with major damage.

    ¡°From what I can tell, most seem to be imperial, a few civil building and some stores.¡± He answered, gesturing to the carnage.

    ¡°It seems the rioters are specifically trying to damage imperial property while mingling in random buildings, or true rioters perform these acts.¡± She pondered out loud.

    The notion she put forward disturbed those present. However, her argument was logically sound; The level of decimation would show a strategic hand behind it.

    Continuing on their journey, they came upon an inferno. Flames engulfed the market district, burning stores to the ground. Fearful citizens were running about, many fleeing, while some threw buckets of water on the flames. Jasmine glanced at Lucy and saw no fear upon her pre-pubescent face. Becoming a champion to Pyrus had promptly removed her natural fear of fire. Just as Peter no longer feared the depths of the ocean. She strode forward, Frederik and his imperial guard trailing at her side.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± She spoke meekly.

    There was no answer. Most of the fleeing civilians ignored them, while some begged the aid of the new arrivals.

    ¡°Hey listen to me, you bastards!¡± Lucy roared, frustrated at her own lingering fear.

    The populace initially believed she was talking to them, but it became clear a second later, she was not. The fires that plagued the market writhed and trembled at her words. She gestured, and they ascended into the sky, leaving ashen buildings in their wake.

    The whirling inferno coalesced into a brilliant ball of flame before descending. Lucy gestured to the knights to get some distance. The knights backed away, and then the flames engulfed the young girl. From an outside perspective, it appeared the flames had reduced her to ash. Instead, the sound of her giggling reached the ears of all present.

    ¡°I know you were having fun, but you were making the people sad,¡± she remarked excitedly remarked.

    ¡°Please, we can play later. For now, leave the good people alone. Ok?¡± Making her requested, the flames appeared to shrug.

    The fire eventually calmed and dispersed, leaving a smiling little girl. The sight inspired awe; Gawking at the sight of the fears and the danger eradicating in a moment. Lucy progressed forward, the soldiers surrounding her. They quickly took charge, recruiting from the civilians. There was some grumbling, but when your family and friends were burnt and scarred. It didn¡¯t matter where the help came from.

    With the people crowding their new heroine, Jasmine coldly scanned the area. The fire was far too widespread to be an accident. The market stalls were burnt and scorched, canopies in rubble and what seemed to be multiple points of origin. She was no fire investigator, but this definitely seemed like arson.

    The only question was, why set a market on fire? She understood bombing imperial buildings, whomever orchestrated this had an axe to grind with the Empire. Setting a market ablaze seems unnecessary, unless it was just added chaos.

    Scanning the area, all she could see was clamouring locals and burnt market stalls. Her lack of skill in this kind of work was becoming increasingly apparent as she realised she was a blunt instrument. She didn''t enjoy being reduced to the role of the local Hulk. She shifted to a more composed and rational thought process.

    ¡°Delegate tasks to the most competent.¡± Her murmur reflected the basic rules of business.

    ¡°Halmar, can you scan the area?¡± She asked, feeling a bit like a ship captain from Star Voyage.

    Despite a hint of hesitation in her voice when she proposed it. He nodded, affirming he could, in fact, scan the area. Straightening his posture and closing his eyes. He looked to be praying, which he could consider the religious views of the Empire. The air current that surrounded him meant he was calling the spirits or his prayers were getting answered.

    In truth, it was a kind of prayer, as if calling up the spirits of the wind counts. Sending them out into the world, like a legion of spies. They whispered to Halmar, faint chatter Jasmine could barely comprehend. He could, nodding away like a general receiving status reports.

    ¡°There are two suspicious wizards in that building.¡± He pointed to the least damaged building on his left.

    It appeared to be a municipal building based on the burnt imperial flags.

    ¡°How do you know they are wizards?¡± Jasmine asked.

    ¡°They reek of magic, according to my spirits. Also, they are wearing wizards'' robes and starting a fire.¡± He explained, before his eyes widened.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°There are still people in there.¡± He remarked in a strained voice.

    Both humped into action, a wind currently propelling Halmar forward. Jasmine leapt into the air, arriving in front of the building. She didn¡¯t have time to acknowledge her superhero leap. Instead, she headed straight for the door. Ready to blow the wooden structure off its hinges. Something stopped her in her tracks.

    She could feel the rising heat emanate from within. Hesitating, she narrowed her gaze, noticing a bright light spilling out of the windows. An idea crossed her mind. Too bad it was far too late. Her vision obscured by a bright light, followed by a massive explosion.

    The impact sent Halmar flying away. Jasmine, however, stood her ground, the earth below cementing her in place. She had not noticed, only shut her eyes and braced herself. A loud crack, screaming, followed by moans, assaulted her senses.

    Opening her eyes, the sight that greeted her horrified her. The building had a massive hole in its centre. The front region was gone, the interior in full view. What appeared to be a walk-in reception was now in rubble.

    Based on the damage, the creaking foundations and general picture. This building was on its last legs and ready to collapse. Naturally fleeing was the best option, but what stayed her feet was the words from Halmar.

    ¡°There are people still in the building.¡± He stated with eyes wide.

    Cocking his ear to the side, he listened to the faint whispers of his familiar. Dire warnings streamed to him. The whispers grew steadily louder, his familiar conveying the soft moans of pain. The people trapped were crying out for help and so he leapt into action.

    The pair knew exactly what they needed. Halmar glided on a wind current, trekking through the building like a leaf on the wind. Jasmine attempted to emulate his grace. Instead, she ended up trudging through the building.

    A good rule of thumb for super strength, she thought. Best to keep the world at a distance, since most of it might as well be cardboard.

    With that in mind, she crept rather quickly through the ruins. Passing by collapsed walls, damaged corridors and doors. Whatever this place was, it was no longer that. It was a ruin in every sense of the word.

    Quickly, she moved towards the stairs. Unfortunately, debris blocked the stairs. Thinking on her toes, she looked around for an entry point. The sound of a woman''s voice cut her examination short. Calling for help and weeping in pain. This spurned her on, only arriving at the blocked stairwell and listening for another sign of their whereabouts.

    Arriving at the second floor, the sight she beheld was horrible. A mother and her child lay buried under a slab of stone. Quickly coming to their aid, she pushed the stone away with little effort, revealing the injured pair below. The mother, as she was likely a mother, had her leg crushed, yet her daughter only had scrapes and bruises.

    ¡°Please... Help her.¡± The mother pleaded, tears streaking her face.

    Thankfully, the child had fallen unconscious, making her unaware of the surrounding destruction. The woman seemed focused on her child, presenting her to Jasmine. Reacting immediately, she sought to collect both. The mother instead resisted, trying desperately to place her child above her own safety.

    Jasmine didn¡¯t want to leave anyone, but begrudgingly agreed. Lifting the young girl of at least four or five years old. She quickly descended the stairs, cradling the life in her arms. Promising to return and reclaim her mother.

    Leaving the building, she handed the child off to one of the imperial knights. Accepting the child in his care, Jasmine quickly sped back inside. Rising to the second level, the still alive mother greeted her. Her distant gaze brightened at the sight of Jasmine''s return. She was content, the notion of her child''s safety, nearly erased the suffering she felt at the moment.

    Approaching, Jasmine arrived at her charge, only to notice the building shake. Dust descended upon them, prompting a coughing fit. Before she can even get her bearings, the unstable roof above cracked. Realising the danger the woman faced, Jasmine leapt forward just as the roof descended.

    Reaching out and gripping her arm, she pulled with all her might as the debris fell. A crash and a sudden give followed, along with a further obscuring of her vision. When the dust settled, she inspected her charge, only to find a severed arm no longer attached to a body.

    Horrified, she was stunned to silence, frozen and unable to move. All she could do was stare at the limb and crushed body as blood seeped from under the stone. Lingering in her own personal hell, she barely acknowledged the buildings'' collapse.

 Chapter 34 - The Great Escape

    The group fled over the wall, all three landing safely. Joan floated down, carried by an invisible field of artificial gravity. Her runic tattoo glowing brightly and drinking in as much mana as possible. The other two were Felix and Alek, both being vampiric. They landed without issue.

    ¡°Holy Aquara, what was that!¡± Joan shouted, immediately quieting her voice, fearful of its return.

    ¡°No idea, but we need to get out of here.¡± Felix remarked, pulling his companions away from the wall.

    They all agreed they needed to flee and made no delay in doing so. Their sprint lasted for over an hour. Joan carried in her brothers'' arms as they sped across the landscape, moving at speeds no human could reach.

    They only stopped when Joan furiously tapped her brother''s shoulder. The frantic contact confused him, but it soon became clear why she did so. Stopping nearby a clearing, she quickly escaped from her siblings'' embrace. Keeling over and hurling the full contents of her breakfast. Her vomiting lasted for a few minutes, all the while Felix looked on.

    Completing her business, she turned a scathing gaze upon her brother. Rising to full height, she traipsed over and pushed a finger into his face.

    ¡°Never do that without warning me.¡± She warned, her scowl fading with her brother''s fear.

    Letting it go, she wiped her face and gave him a pat on the arm. Accepting the gesture, the group paused for a moment to get their bearings. The area they had suddenly sped to was not familiar to either of them. They had just fled east as far as they could. Passing other fleeing citizens, not getting too close less, they notice the inhuman speeds. An hour of vampire speed running. Who knew where they were?

    ¡°Well, we went east, so that forest in the distance must be the Achavian Woods and further should be the fortress city of Aresla.¡± Joan explained, pointing to the horizon.

    As her words sank in, the three pondered their next move.

    ¡°I think we should head towards Aresla. I doubt we could get across the border through the proper channels. But at least there are a few villages and towns around that area.¡± Felix commented.

    ¡°Yes, that was the plan, but we had intended to arrive with guild authority.¡± Joan dashed his suggestion with the cold light of the truth.

    Felix frowned, realising that neither of them, in fact, belonged to the guild collective. Al was part of the wizarding union. James and Sally were mercenaries, and all had guild authority. Without a guild writ of travel, they were basically suspicious peasants.

    ¡°We can just arrive as commoners; they should let us through.¡± He remarked.

    ¡°Sure, the villages and towns won''t have an issue. But the border guards would never let us cross.¡± She explained.

    The reality of the situation, they were basically undocumented commoners on the run from vampire hunters. Leaving the empire and crossing the border will be a hassle without their friends. The three pondered their next move, but came up empty. Casting their gaze down the road, they could only continue and find the nearest landmark.

    Al climbed higher and higher. Doing his best Neo impression, he flew as fast as he could. Stopping just short of the clouds and propelling himself across the sky. He had made a respectful distance from the city. What was going down was something he did not want to deal with. Still, that summoned hero did him a solid, so he would repay her later.

    The world beneath him zoomed by, the residents below scurrying around like ants. Looking down at creation, he wondered if this was how the gods feel. He wasn¡¯t planning on inspecting this giant ant hill. He wanted to find a specific group of ants. Eventually, he stopped in mid-air. Standing up straight, he began walking as if he was on solid ground.

    ¡°Know it or not, I''m walking on air. I never thought I would feel so free. Soaring away on a wing and a dare. Who can it be, know it or not? It¡¯s just me.¡± He sang, extending his arms like a bird, enjoying the wind in his face.

    Lost in his reverie, singing a tune from an old tv show he watched as a child. He hadn''t noticed the odd behaviour of the surrounding air. A figure coalesced from the shifting wind currents. Its form appeared to be humanoid, wearing a fedora and suit. Barely sensing the presence, Al sighed, realising who it probably was.

    ¡°So that is probably not a good sign.¡± The voice of Ventus remarked.

    Al turned to spot his patron, noticing the air elemental''s gaze cast towards Helgos.

    ¡°Agreed. That riot was likely precipitated by factions in the upcoming war.¡± Al explained, voicing his suspicions.

    ¡°Indeed, such a widespread riot seems far more coordinated than a simple protest against imperial occupation. Anti-Imperialism has been in Helgos for over a century.¡± Ventus frowned.

    ¡°Regardless, the damage from the riots will probably paralyse Helgos''s support. The Lankosians will see this as weakness and advance.¡± He added.

    ¡°Does this mean I have failed in my task?¡± Al queried, worried he may suddenly drop and hit earth.

    "No, of course not. Our deal was to resolve this situation and ensure peace."

    ¡°War is inevitable at this point. The Kingdom of Tarkon will be the first to get hit. The Lankosians have been itching to reclaim lost territory and repay some of the bloodshed.¡±

    ¡°If that is the case, I guess I still have a few tricks up my sleeves.¡± Al said with a wide grin.

    ¡°I bet you do; I look forward to seeing that,¡± He stated.

    With that, Al leapt into the sky, soaring in the direction he expected to find his companions. Flying for a solid hour, he eventually got bored. The landscape below revealed a dirt road extending out towards the border to Tarkon. The city of Aresla could be vaguely seen in the distance.  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    He knew where they would go. They were heading to the northern Upire ruins. So, the best place to stop and get some supplies. Scanning the area, the sight of a small town in the distance came into focus.

    ¡°There you are.¡±

    Meanwhile, the trio finally arrived outside the town. They didn¡¯t know the name, but that didn¡¯t matter. They had been running for hours and needed a rest. Or at least those that still had a heartbeat required it. Alek kept his hood down, the thin cloth the only thing preventing the hazardous rays of the sun. It was quite awkward, holding down his hood while he sped across the countryside.

    Still, they arrived safely and entered the town. The townspeople seemed friendly enough and likely didn¡¯t know the fate that befell Helgos. The information would likely reach them, eventually. For now, they are blissfully unaware of the situation.

    Chatting to some of the townspeople, they asked for directions to the local inn. There they got some food and board. They had little in the way of coin, but had enough for one room and stew. Seated in their small room, with only one bed and a nightstand. They discussed the situation and the next steps.

    ¡°I say we just wait here for Al to find us?¡± Felix suggested.

    ¡°I agree we need to reconnect, but what if the Order sends hunters after us? We left them alive and they know our faces,¡± Joan explained, deeply concerned they might have a band of fire worshippers still after them.

    ¡°You have a point.¡± He agreed.

    Stunned silence followed, the trio not really having an idea beyond waiting and see. With the decision made, they took a nap. Both siblings were tired from the long journey. Alek standing guard and watching over his charges.

    Hours later, Alek remained on his vigil when a voice caught his attention. The enhanced sense of a vampire was most useful. He had taken to eavesdropping on conversations around the town. Over time, he had developed his own interests. The memories that plagued him every once in a while were a source of consternation. So, he distracted himself with his observations.

    "That was a good raid last night. We should diversify, given the upcoming war." A familiar voice spoke.

    ¡°Diversify, have you been talking to that merchant captive again?¡± A second voice asked.

    ¡°Hey, the guy had some good ideas.¡± The first voice remarked.

    ¡°Good ideas are one thing, but listening to a prisoner is unwise.¡±

    Back and forth they argued, one side in favour and the other against. The conversation eventually turned to more salacious topics. The two were very interested in the serving girls'' bosom and rear. They spoke about that at length. Alek didn¡¯t really understand why that was so important. He still continued to listen.

    Every word awoke further memories, each sight compelled him to follow. Luckily, no one told him to stay, so he got up and left the room. Moving towards the voices, down the hallway and exiting the inn. The scent of the town assaulted his nose. Ignoring the typical scents of piss and shit, the smell of blood was of greater interest.

    The scent quickly became a passing fancy. Someone fed him and ordered him to not harm the innocent. He didn¡¯t really understand the command, neither did Felix. The order was a suggestion from Al; it placed constraints on his more predatory actions. He could apparently kill and fed upon those that tried to kill him. He could not attack people without first a provocation. Also, he could not purposefully provoke people. Felix added another thing. He could harm those that harmed others. Here, he could only neutralise them without causing death. Of course, if they tried to kill him, then they were fair game and thus, dinner.

    With all this in mind, he made his way towards the tavern. The tavern sign read, "The Soldiers Respite". He was not sure what that meant, but could still read it. Entering the tavern, through the double doors. A gloomy space greeted him. Odd flashes of memories made this place seem familiar. The bar top on the other side, manned by someone named Elis. The scent of stale beer, once an old friend and now a strange thing to behold.

    Yet despite all the senses invading him, the sight of two figures seated was of greater interest. Approaching them cautiously, he noticed his fingernails lengthening into talons. Oddly, the sight of the two men compelled him to do so. Stalking his prey, he readied himself to strike the moment he reached their table. Not understanding why he wanted to slay them, and how he could even ignore his masters'' orders.

    All he knew at that moment was the feeling. The strange emotions that seemed to overwhelm him. Anger, fear, joy ¡ª all impacting his psyche. It was too much, so he leaned on his instincts. What they told him was clearer than any emotion or memory. These two were predators, killers like him. The instincts bubbling to the surface compelled him forward. Reaching the table, he was so close, in range, to cleave their heads off. Instead of bloodshed, one man turned to him. The moment they saw his face, their eyes widened.

    ¡°Thomas?¡± the blonde middled aged man said.

    Hearing that name stopped Alek in his tracks. His talons retracted and fangs returned. Standing there dumbfounded, he barely noticed the man rising to hug him.

    ¡°Thomas, we thought you were dead.¡± He exclaimed, embracing Alek.

    ¡°Pyrus balls, you are cold, my brother. Come sit down, get some ale in you.¡±

    Signalling Alek to sit. Strangely, the vampire did so, saying not a word.

    ¡°We figured you were worm food.¡± The dark-haired man interjected.

    Calling over one girl, he ordered another drink. Slapping her rear as she left to fulfill the order. Alek could hear the yelp of pain and noticed her pulse spiking. Somehow, he knew she was afraid. The sound was familiar. Not as pronounced as the death throes of his victims, but still similar. She feared these men, men he apparently knew.

    ¡°I guess since you''re on your own, Jagen is dead?¡± The brown-haired one asked.

    The man struck a mental chord. Several images of a strangely familiar man crossed his mind. Yet one thing was for certain: the man was dead. In fact, he drank his blood and clawed up his corpse. He didn¡¯t feel bad about it. Most of the things he did were merely actions taken, either ordered or necessity.

    Alek nodded in affirmation, prompting the two to frown slightly. While they were doing whatever they were doing. Alek thought about the issue. Lately, he had been thinking a lot. It was unpleasant to do so; she seemed to prefer obeying orders. His sire was his master and obeying decided easier. Protect the master and kill whomever tried to harm his creator. It was a simple concept, but as the spark within got brighter, life and decisions got a lot harder.

    A decision would have to be made and with his master asleep, he must make it himself. The curiosity was palpable. These walking bags of blood knew him. They called him a name that sparked memories. He is Thomas, or he was Thomas. He knew on a strange level that the man was dead. Yet he still lived within himself. It was too much and required too much thought.

    ¡°Dead.¡± Alek grumbled.

    Several people shrugged, expecting the admission and feeling indifferent to it. They instead raised a glass to Alek being alive and dismissed Jagen as nothing more than an afterthought.

    The time in the tavern wasn¡¯t that informative. Alek listened, drank the vile liquid, and clinked mugs. Yet all they seemed to talk about were female humans. They spoke about the bar wench, the other woman from their past, and the few back at their fortress.

    ¡°It was a great idea to take over that decrepit keep. I mean, that makes us land owners, hey we might be lords now.¡± The blonde suggested, getting cheery and clinking their mugs in a toast.

    ¡°Thomas, you have said little, you alright?¡± The brown-haired one asked.

    Alek pondered how to answer. Instead, he simply shrugged. The two accepted that answer, barring no further questions. They were always more concerned with the feminine form of ladies here and in the past.

    Alek let them talk, sipping his beer as a matter of appearance. Eventually, they ran out of money, and after several unsuccessful courting attempts, the three left. The pair still had not recognised the monster in their midst. Likely, they had committed so many dark deeds that a monster was far too familiar.

    ¡°Come with us Tom, let¡¯s head home.¡± The blonde man said, rather inebriated.

    The vampire thought for a moment, pondering if he should follow. With no order not to, he had nothing holding himself back. In fact, he had strange hazy memories, compelling him forward. In the end, he followed, and the trio made their way out of town.

 Chapter 35 - The Fortress

    Several hours later, the three descended from two horses. The blonde-haired man sat in front of Alek. He called it riding bitch. Alek didn¡¯t understand the term. Yet he figured it was an insult, but shrugged it off.

    What was before him was of greater interest. They had moved through a dense forest, coming upon a mountain range. Embedded into the mountain is a modestly sized fortress. The castle seemed to be carved right out of the mountain. However, it was done. Alek did not know. It seemed an act of the spirits, perhaps one of the spirit lords.

    Approaching the fortress, Alek noted a trench surrounding the castle. On the other side was a raised drawbridge, with battlements just above. Alek saw two figures standing guard, and as they approached, the figures turned to alert someone.

    Alek had been keeping his hood up for much of the journey. Now he no longer needed to worry about the deadly rays. The cloud cover and massive mountain range provided excellent protection. Lowering his hood, he cracked his neck, a strange impulse he just had. Soon after, someone lowered the drawbridge, and they ushered him inside.

    ¡°Welcome home Thomas. Do we have a treat for you?¡± The blonde man spoke excitedly.

    Once he entered the fortification, the interior courtyard came into view. It was a rather large space, with a decrepit, yet intricate fountain in the centre. The statue of a naked woman pouring water was clearly old and worn. It would have been a beautiful sight if not for the drunk man humping it while his associates egged him on. The majestic location seemed to be stained by these men. They are gruff looking. Many hadn''t shaved, yet they all wore decent armour.

    Moving past the group of around fifteen armed and armoured humans. Alek was quickly dragged along into the depths of the castle. Going through a wooden door and down some stairs, they moved deeper into the bowels. It soon became clear the destination; Alek may have a few memories. The sight of a dungeon was unmistakable.

    Many things assaulted his senses. Rancid smells and whimpering voices. Travelling down the hallway, we made a right turn, reaching for a collection of cells. Seven each of them have thick wooden doors with barred windows. Sensing five women each in their own cell. The truth of the situation became clear.

    ¡°We had a good haul lately. I don¡¯t think we had this many prisoners in recent memory.¡± The blonde said.

    ¡°Very true Peldar, fortune favours us.¡± The brown-haired man said, finally mentioning the name of the other.

    ¡°We got a special welcome home present for you.¡± Peldar explained, licking his lips and gesturing towards the first cell.

    Withdrawing an iron key, he unlocked the cell door. Turned around and handed the key to Alek. The vampire looked down at the hunk of metal. Soon after, someone gestured him inside, and he entered, shutting the door behind him.

    Within was what he had expected a dirty prison cell to look like. His limited memories had a few memories of being dropped in a cell by city constables. Looking down, he noticed the sole occupant. It was a woman, clothed in rags and huddled in the corner. Her face was downcast, her features not clearly seen. Taking a step forward, she seemed to grow alert at his presence. The cold and hard gaze of a familiar woman matched with his. That face was recognisable, and a flood of memories came back to him.

    That same memory of slaying a man and a woman returned with a vengeance. Only this time, the young brunette girl was no longer hazy, but clear as day. Her accusatory gaze, the tear-filled eyes and the expression of unrestrained wrath. He knew in that moment who she was, even if her name escaped him. She was his victim, not in death, but in life.

    Killing this girl''s mother and father had been his sin. What was worse, he recalled feeling very little guilt over the act. In fact, he relished the death and enjoyed its deliverance. Except now, things had changed. He was dead now and he couldn''t feel many of those sensations anymore.

    Before, he would have looked upon the female form with lust. Now it barely registered. His physical impulses had changed, and some were gone completely. The thrill of the kill, of course, remained, but shifted focus. Instead of the power he once felt whenever he had taken a life. The thrill now was the feasting of blood and indulgent of a base, predatory nature. Perhaps this perspective is no different, but he felt it was not the same as before.

    Lost in his thoughts, he did not register her words.

    ¡°Get on with it, kill me, rape me. But know this, I won''t make it pleasant.¡± The girl spoke, a fierceness in her voice.

    She was defiant. Despite all she likely endured, she had remained unbroken. Alek recalled many faces of broken men and women. Slaves, prisoners, even working girls in brothels. They were all broken either by life or at the hands of another.

    Instead, this one had yet to show that face. Examining her with all five senses, he could see the damage inflicted. Cuts, bruises and malnutrition. She was not appetising as a meal and he felt little interest, anyway. He also discovered other things about her. He realised that someone had assaulted her. The life that had lived within her, the remnants of it, was apparent. He could sense the building blocks of life. If left unchecked, it will grow. Yet another sense told him of the danger. There was another life within, a destructive one, spreading throughout her body. In that moment, he knew she would die soon. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°You''re dying.¡± He stated without preamble.

    For a second, she felt shocked by the unexpected blunt statement.

    ¡°No shit, asshole.¡± She replied contemptuously.

    Something rendered him speechless and immobile. His thoughts churned, memory flashes accompanied by familiar emotions. The mental assault was deafening, the world around him blurred. Shaking his head, he tried to banish these thoughts.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you, drank too much?¡± She asked, raising her bound hands.

    Someone tied her arms, connecting them to a chain embedded in the wall. None of that mattered now. Alek needed to leave. Quickly, he made his escape. Any thoughts of closing the cell door were a distant memory.

    ¡°What in the spirits?¡± She exclaimed, watching as the man that murdered her parents fled in a blur of motion.

    Alek moved with blinding speed out of the cell and down the corridor. Locating a door, he entered and shut it behind him. Finally, winding down from his abrupt exit, he barely acknowledged his surroundings. He stuck still and the centre of what appeared to be guards'' quarters. Several beds were strewn about, along with table and chairs. Someone had oddly attached a full-length mirror to a nearby wall.

    He stood there, stunned, his eyes fluttering about. The entire world was blending together with reality and memory. One moment he was standing in the room, the next he was looking up at a familiar woman. She was his mother; those cruel eyes gave it away. The way they looked at him, a child she never wanted, conceived through force.

    Her name was Melinda, and she was a castle maid, taken by one of the castle guards. Of course, she protested, but the guards scorned and banished her. Left with the growing life in her belly and barely any money to live on. She found wealth in the brothels of the city and rarely cared for her son. These memories quickly faded and new ones came to life. Bloodshed, atrocities, and burning villages. Wars he had fought in, times he killed for coin and all the manner of depravities he committed.

    In that single quiet moment, the only sound was the screams of the women and the laughter of the men. Yet another sound made its way to his ears. A voice, both familiar and yet a stranger. It was coming from behind and sounded incredibly condescending.

    ¡°What a rush, that whole flashback of mum.¡± The voice said.

    His fangs descended as he turned to meet his foe. Instead of an enemy, he saw himself reflected in the mirror. Yet there was something different. The image was moving while he remained still. A smile plastered across his face.

    ¡°Your adorable. I''ve got those too.¡± The reflection mocked his own fangs descending.

    ¡°So, are we going to kill anyone? I know we fed yesterday, but I think a little snack sounds good.¡±

    Alek tried to ignore the phantom''s suggestions, instead focusing inwards. His mind was spiralling, the thought became indistinct and jumbled. Despite everything in a jar, the phantom continued to articulate.

    "You can''t just ignore me, besides we really should do something about that racket. The guys were always drunk when they harassed the girls."

    These words caught in my mind, a faint tether allowing me to latch onto. He could hear the grunts and moans of two distinct men. Accompanied by faint whimpering and squeals of agony. The two men were in a frenzy and seemed to thrill, while the third knew only pain and fear.

    Sensing this, Alek felt the tethers of his mind fall away. He could barely hang on and, in truth, he didn¡¯t want to. Too much thought and not enough instinct. Letting himself go, he let the beast take over. In that moment, all he could see was his reflection grinning.

    Speeding away, through the door, down the hallway and finally reaching the cell. The sounds coming from it became louder and more acute. Barely registering it, he pushed his way in and took in the sight. Two men had pinned a woman down between them. Despite their efforts, she continued to struggle as the men pounced upon her.

    The one known as Peldar had his pants around his ankles. He looked up in confusion, likely wondering why his friend was interrupting. Horror soon replaced the wonder as he took in the warped visage of his old friend.

    The man he once knew, drunk with, fought with, and engaged in many sordid acts. That man was no longer there. He was now a new predator. One could akin his visage to a monster, but he knew deep down they were all monsters. Here, his old friend was on the outside, what they were, within.

    In a flash, someone grabbed him by the throat and, without a word, slammed him into the wall. Dazed and in pain, the world around him blurred. Before he can even react, Alek sank fangs into his neck. Life drained quickly. His head felt light. Then the pain came, and he screamed at the top of his lungs. Pulling away, Alek wretched.

    ¡°Have you ever heard of a bath, you disgusting wretch?¡± Alek wailed, blood gushing from his mouth.

    In anger, he slammed the man''s head into the wall three times in quick succession. Releasing the limp body, he brought the man back to reality with a mild pressure on his back. Looking down, he could see the end of a short sword sticking out of his sternum. Someone had stabbed him, ineffectually, of course.

    Turning around, his eyes met the triumphant form of a naked man. Quickly, the air of victory faded away. The man soon realised his foe did not fall. Thinking quickly, he withdrew his blade with a soft squelch and readied for another strike. He wasn¡¯t able to do so. Alek knocked his sword to the side.

    Weaponless, he could only devolve into a begging fit. Alek ignored him, gripped him by the neck, and slammed him into the wall.

    ¡°Perhaps you will taste better.¡± He suggested.

    Jerking the man''s neck to the side, Alek descended upon the exposed flesh. Taking a gulp of his blood, he withdrew in disgust.

    ¡°Why does no one bath here? There are baths upstairs, you pathetic insect.¡± He ranted, bashing the man''s skull into the wall.

    He dropped him, limp and likely dead. This left Alek unsatisfied and incredibly gross. He tried to think back to other times he fed on humans. The first time was hazy, so those memories were useless. He recalled some robed man waking him up from slumber. That fellow did, in fact, bath and was relatively healthy. He wished more humans like that were the norm. It would make feeding a lot easier.

 Chapter 36 - Bloodlust

    ¡°Well, that was a bit of letdown.¡± The phantom remarked.

    ¡°Can you shut up?¡± Alek turned to the copy of himself.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, please don¡¯t hurt me.¡± Another feminine voice said meekly.

    Looking down, Alek could see the poor rape victim huddled in the corner. She was terrified; her fear directed at him.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking to you,¡± Alek asserted.

    ¡°Oh yes, you were just talking to yourself. I''m sure that will convince her of your sanity.¡± The phantom mocked.

    Alek growled at the vision; his fangs descended. The display had no effect on the imaginary man. However, it was most effective for the frightened girl. Casting his gaze to her, he quickly retracted his fangs. He was getting better at that. It now felt natural to do so.

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking to you, so just calm down.¡± He suggested.

    His words fell on deaf ears. She, in fact, did the exact opposite. Curled up into a ball and descended slowly into a fit of hysteria. Holding his head, the stress rose. Leaning down, he tried another tactic.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, they''re dead. You can stop crying.¡± He explained.

    His words of comfort fell on deaf ears. Instead, she shrieked loudly, punching and kicking. Alek allowed these ineffectual blows to land. They barely registered.

    ¡°Stop that.¡± He said, more than a suggestion, then an order.

    The blows didn¡¯t cease, in fact, they continued with more intensity. The girl had tears streaming down her face and babbled incoherently. Despite all that, she kept fighting him, punching, kicking and throwing every ounce of force she had.

    ¡°Can you stop?¡± He requested, again falling on deaf ears.

    ¡°Stop!¡± He roared indignantly, trying to put every ounce of command into those words.

    Surprisingly, she looked up, peered into his eyes, and her own grew dim. Her hands limp, the hysteria dying down. Naturally confused at this sudden turn of events. Alek felt a strange sensation behind his eyes. It was not pleasant and a tad painful. Regardless, he had got her calm.

    ¡°So, what you going to do with her late-night snack?¡± The phantom asked mockingly.

    Alek ignored the creature, instead he was thinking on his next step. He could just leave them to their fate. The other one had witnessed himself murdering her parents. She would likely want revenge. No matter how many memories he lost, revenge was something he understood well.

    Then again, his father, his sire and creator, deplored such actions. He could feel it, the emotions beyond words warped into him. He could resist them if he dared to. Yet something compelled him not to. Uncertain why he was going along with this line of thinking. Perhaps it was the contrast between who he was and was now. Perhaps it was nothing but a whim, but he acted differently.

    Directing the girl to stand, he helped her up and out of the cell. She was shivering. The lack of clothing and the cold dungeon were not ideal. Going back, he grabbed one of the deceased''s clothes. A grey, simple jacket mended several times by hand. Draping it over her shoulders, her shivering slowly subsided.

    Once that was done, he released the other women. They all had similar reactions, horror, fear and one even tried to attack him. The more combative ones were subdued by him, temporarily convinced. He was leading them to safety. He led them down the hall and into the room he once had a mental breakdown.

    ¡°What do you want from us?¡± one woman demanded.

    ¡°I want you to go in there while I make sure no one is coming. I''m going to get you out of here.¡± He explained, trying to sound confident.

    ¡°You are one of them. I remember you!¡± Another woman accused.

    She looked vaguely familiar, likely she was one of the many victims of his past. This would make things a lot more difficult. He was already dreading his next encounter with the last cell.

    ¡°That is correct. It doesn¡¯t change the situation. Do you want to remain here as a plaything or escape and be free? Make your choice.¡± He delivered an ultimatum, giving them pause.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Eventually, he nodded, moving in his direction. Piling into the room, he shut the door behind them.

    "Built up quite the larder." The phantom said glibly.

    ¡°What part of shut up do you not understand?¡± The vampire queried.

    The phantom merely smiled, shrugging as if innocent. Alek ignored him. It seemed to be a sound strategy. Turning his thoughts to the girl just down the hall. Convincing her to vacate with him will require much convincing.

    Stepping slowly towards the cell, he could almost feel his dead heart beating. It was strange how uncomfortable he was now. Based on his memories, he had little concern for such things. Women were disposable pleasures and killing was acceptable if it made a profit. The children left behind by his killings only bothered him in the quiet moments. Not because of some long dormant conscience, simply because he worried they might stick a dagger in him for revenge.

    Arriving at the cell door, he exhaled a breath. It was a pointless gesture, since he didn¡¯t need to breathe. Still, it comforted him. He was about to greet the epitome of all his former sins. Reaching for the iron handle, he hesitated. The sound of the heartbeat coming from the cell was steady. She had no fear and was calm. He knew what that meant. Ever since becoming a vampire, his understanding of humans took an interesting turn.

    Not that he got smarter; it was because he learnt to listen. All those times he remained silent; he spent it listening to the faint traces humans gave him. Their heartbeat, perspiration, subtle gestures ranging from an intake of breath to the gulping of saliva. They all painted a beautiful mosaic of what they wanted to conceal. He received the message. She was likely going to kill me. Her resolve was firm, her heart steady, her reasons understandable.

    Opening the door, he found an empty cell. Confused, he ventured in and inspected the area. He was already inside when he recalled he had enhanced senses. Still, it was too late. The dagger sank into his back. Three thrusts in quick succession, the last leaving the blade embedded. He was not entirely sure, but the dagger seemed to have punctured his heart.

    Exhaling an unnecessary breath, he turned to face his attacker. She appeared more confused than frightened. Likely she expected a man stabbed thrice would fall. Alek pulled the dagger from his back, the blade stained with black blood. He had not seen the colour of his blood or just hadn''t noticed.

    ¡°You can¡¯t kill me. I''m already dead.¡± He declared, handing the dagger back.

    She took it without taking her eye from the supposed to be dead man.

    ¡°How... How are you still alive?¡± She mumbled a question.

    ¡°That is a long story. Someone killed the man you know as Thomas, weeks ago. I am not exactly sure who I am. I''m still figuring that out.¡± He answered, the last statement more for himself than for her.

    ¡°In the name of Pyrus, you think I would believe that?¡± She cursed, spitting on the ground.

    She had changed from his memory, no longer the cowering girl. Now she was cold, indignant with righteous fury, simmering underneath the skin.

    ¡°Belief is not required. You just stabbed me three times and yet I stand.¡± He answered.

    She thought for a moment, inspecting him from toe to head. Taking up her weapon, she gripped it tightly. Her gaze flitting to her periphery, likely gauging an exit.

    ¡°Then I guess you have finally become the monster you always were!¡± She spat angrily.

    ¡°Perhaps I have. That doesn¡¯t change the situation.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± She asked.

    ¡°I plan to help the other women escape this retched place. You included.¡± He declared, keeping his eyes trained on her.

    Instead of getting on board so they may escape to safety. She slipped slowly into a chuckling fit, her shoulders bouncing up and down.

    ¡°That is the funniest thing I have ever heard. The man that butchered my parents took me as a slave, along with most of the other girls. Is going to rescue us.¡± She stated emphatically, not believing a word.

    ¡°You know she has a point.¡± The phantom remarked.

    Ignoring the voices in his head, Alek veered into a different tack.

    ¡°Yes, I called them. I make no excuses. However, the priority is getting you women out of here.¡± He declared, remaining firm in his resolve.

    His words prompt silence. Her thoughts churn, struggling against conflicting forces.

    ¡°Listen, we get out of here and you can try to kill me to your heart''s content.¡± He offered, waiting for her to bite.

    Eventually, she agreed, with her own condition added. She would accompany him, not letting him out of her sight. He agreed, convincing her to play along with whatever plan they had come up with. Slipping the dagger into her sleeve, she walked up beside him. It was a coin flip if she would accompany or stab him.

    They made their way to the other women. They learned they knew her and her name was Sara. She calmed the few that had absolutely no trust in Alek, something he appreciated. Eventually, they came up with a plan. The rest of the women would move deeper into the bowels of the castle. Alek showed them a secret entrance he discovered last time he was here.

    He suspected the secret door led to a chamber constructed by some past lord. A hidden button on the back of the knight''s neck opened the entrance, which was concealed behind the statue. Leading them through, his memories of exploring the place returned. Luckily, his past self was selfish and didn¡¯t inform anyone of his find.

    Passing through the hall, they entered an anti-chamber. Disused shelves, all stacked with urns, lined the anti-chamber. The urns, filled to the brim with the crimson liquid, reeked of spoiled blood. Ignoring this for now, he led them further into a luxuries room. It was still dusty and out of order, but well furnished.

    He could see a four posted bed, with strange iron rings attached to the head post. Dressers and shelves scattered around. To the right looked to be a door to a bathroom, open and revealing the sight of a large copper tub. The sight of the bed caused the group of women to gasp. Alek was not sure why they did so. They just stared at him while he looked back, confused.

    ¡°You all will stay here while I figure out our exit,¡± Alek declared.

    With that done, he turned to leave, a plan slowly forming. Before exiting, he noticed a secondary room. Curiosity compelled him. He entered through the portal. Coming upon a slight nook, what dwelled within was intriguing.

 Chapter 37 - A Hidden Treasure

    Set upon a wooden mannequin, an old yet pristine set of armour. He couldn¡¯t understand how he didn¡¯t see this before. He could swear there was a wall looking back at the women, and Sara was a gasp in shock.

    ¡°He vanished; he walked right through the wall.¡± One of them said.

    Sara began inspecting, her gaze turning up and down. She seemed to not see Alek, as if he truly vanished. He had an inkling of what was going on. Memories had been rushing back, and he was well aware of magic. In fact, he had seen his companions perform such feats.

    Ignoring for a moment, he just vanished from their sights. He inspected the armour. It was dark blood red, full plate and covered every limb. The patterns weaved into the metal, reminded him of blood vessels. To the left, placed on a weapon rack, was an ornate broadsword.

    The blade was an unfamiliar metal, not steel. It felt far denser and was pitch black. The cross guard was equally unfamiliar, jewels encrusted it and it depicted a man, pinned to a cross, with a crown of thorns. Rather a morbid depiction, but then again, it was a weapon of war.

    He would have liked to claim the weapon and armour. But it was too gaudy for a regular old bandit. So, he left the hidden room and emerging from solid stone, at least from the women''s perspective. He surveyed their reactions.

    ¡°How did you do that?¡± Sara inquired, her initial disdain replaced by genuine curiosity.

    ¡°I have no clue.¡± He answered before making his way to the exit.

    ¡°I¡¯m coming with you.¡± She declared.

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    Agreeing easily and without a fuss, the pair left the secret room. Closing it behind them, they made their way out of the dungeon. Before leaving, Alek moved the two corpses out of the cell and stashed them elsewhere.

    ¡°So, what is your plan here, exactly?¡± The phantom asked, rather sarcastically.

    Alek ignored the creature, keeping to the task. Sara broke his focus when she asked nearly the same question. This stopped the vampire in his tracks. He could see the phantom nodding to Sara. He then checked out her rear, giving a thumbs up. Alek wondered how that was possible, if the phantom was in his head.

    ¡°To drink everyone under the table.¡± With that declaration, he ascended the stairs.

    The pair reached the courtyard, glancing from side to side. They could only see a few sentries. Turning to Sara, he explained the rest of his plan. It was relatively simple. She agreed to it easily enough. They switched into their roles, both uncomfortable, yet ultimately accepting the necessity.

    Locking arms, Alek began stumbling as if inebriated. The two chatting like a couple, instead of sweet nothings. Sara would whisper all the ways she would attempt to kill him once they escaped this hellhole.

    The vampire pretended as if the words were soothing and salacious. Making their way through the courtyard, waving to the few sentries. They arrived at a large wooden door, giggling as they entered the grand hall. What greeted them was a spacious room, fit for a lord and perhaps a king. Alek was not aware of who owned this castle, his memories didn¡¯t cover it.

    Scanning the room, he could spot several familiar faces. They were all seated at dining tables, spaced equally in the hall. They were rough looking customers, completely at odds with the regal atmosphere. Three steps led to a raised dais at the end of the room. Atop was a single ornate throne, a familiar figure seated upon it.

    He was even more at odds with not only the castle''s architecture, but the sea of bandits. Wearing a familiar red robe, it reminded him of the man he killed back in Helgos. The robed figure who awoke him from slumber, then tore his throat out. Not one of his finer moments, he thought.

    Someone altered the robe, weaving a sword image into the fire insignia on the front. Using his vampire senses, he could perceive the mistakes in the design. A lesser artist likely added after it. The man appeared like a cross between a barbaric bandit lord and a priest. Square jawed, bristling with thick beard and sharp hazel eyes, scanned the room. He was leaning in frame, not the typical bulky fellows dotting the hall.

    Next to the bandit lord was no doubt a wizard. Covered in far more pristine arcane robes, he appeared to be gaunt. Middle age, wielding a wooden staff. The wizard was whispering in the ear of the bandit lord, like a vizier to a sovereign. Seeing his moment, Alek quickly adopted every facet of his old identity. In a moment, he tried to conform himself to a dead man.

    ¡°Greetings lads, I''m back from the dead. Why don¡¯t we celebrate!¡± He announced to the hall.

    Every face turned to him, curious at the introduction. A few faces showed irritation, some people were obviously drunk, and others narrowed their eyes. Eventually, the assembled mass realised who had entered. Everyone cheered in unison, all bellowing the name he once possessed.

    ¡°I say I can out-drink the lot of you. Who would deny my claim?!¡± Alek further stated.

    Several hands rose, as expected. Drinking copious amounts of alcohol and seeing who was the last to drop was a game many played. The man on the throne paid little attention, allowing the festivities to silence.

    Men crowded Alek, some with their own women, attached at the hip. Alek could spy many false smiles, hiding genuine fear. Sadly, some people eventually gave in, intimidated by obedience. Trying to ignore the unspoken cries of help, he continued with the plan. Meeting once more, a few faces he recognised, most were barbaric killers like he was. Some, however, had oddly less brutal memories.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The youngest, seated on his own near the back of the hall. He was an orphan, taken into the gang only a few years ago. He had been the kindest of this motley lot. Rarely did he partake in raids, mostly focusing on logistics. His name was Alric, from what Alek could recall. The men were jovial with his announcement. They dragged in barrels of ale and ushered him to the centre table.

    ¡°Thomas, my lad, we thought you were dead. Tell us, how did the hunt go?¡± A large burly man inquired.

    His name was Bjorgan, a northern barbarian from one of the nomadic tribes that plagued the steppes. I remember they exiled him for cutting up someone''s daughter. A rival tribe''s daughter, to avoid a conflict and to keep honour. The tribe exiled Bjorgan.

    Bjorgan arrived with his cohorts, the two bulky med shadowing him. Durask and Sven were their names. They were both imperials, with decent bounties on their heads. The local lord hadn''t bought them because they were exceptionally skilled with knives. Bjorgan liked that about them, since he was not very shy about his own sharp predilections.

    These three were the most dangerous figures here, minus their leader and the creepy wizard. Fortunately, they were good friends with Alek¡¯s former self. So instead of the typical predatory gaze they gave victims. They embraced Alek like a brother, commenting on how cold he was. Of course, Sven tried to get handsy with Sara. She promptly kicked him in the balls. This inspired laughter from his fellow men.

    Alek had to intervene fewer future reprisals befallen the young woman. But he found neither came. Bjorgan didn¡¯t dare lay a hand on her. Alek found this curious, however a few more memories told him why. Bjorgan and Sven once took a woman Thomas had claimed. In response, Thomas beat the pair half to death. Ever since then, Bjorgan avoided such actions and Sven was too dumb not to think about his dick.

    Seated at the table, the drinking began in earnest. Alek had already knocked back three pints, and showed no intention of slowing down. Consuming any liquid that was not blood held no sustenance. He figured that out relatively quickly. Though he wondered where it all went, perhaps it was stuck in his stomach. He hopes he had some sort of magic digestion, since he had planned to imbibe a lot.

    His first challengers dropped; they were fresh. The others cheered and mocked as one puked his guts out and the other ungracefully vacated. The situation was surprisingly jovial, and, he could admit, fun. Despite his own perspective on events, now coloured by a new clarity. He could not deny the comradery he felt with his old crew.

    Despite the predatory nature buried within, there was also another more human desire. The desire to belong and despite the brutality of this crew. They had accepted the man he once was. Unfortunately, he was no longer that man. He was no longer a man at all. He is Nosferatu, the vampire child of his glorious sire. With his Creator''s will, he would see his desires be done. Still, he would do them his way and try to be the better man. The thought filled him with a sense of duty. Hopefully, his father would be proud.

    ¡°Your cow towing to a kid. You are pathetic.¡± The phantom spat bitterly.

    Alek ignored him, as he always does, turning his attention to his next contenders. They were on to their fifth mug of ale, and questions were flying.

    ¡°How did that job go? We heard you were tracking down some bounty?¡± One bandit asked.

    ¡°That is a bit of a story, requiring more ale!¡± He raised his mug and a loud cheer resounded.

    The booze flowed freely as he regaled them with his altered tale. Every victory he made up elicited his fellow drunkards to chug. He did that purposely, trying to get everyone in proximity hammered. The story went on for over an hour. He embellished most of it and made up the rest. The more he spoke, the more comfortable he became with the act.

    Sara was playing her part well, hanging onto his side. Pretending to be the girl, he recalled. Some women leaned into their sexuality to secure their safety. It was an apt strategy if you didn¡¯t get any of the rougher members of the crew. Alek could sense Sara¡¯s apprehension, and he couldn''t blame her. Clinging to her parents'' murderer was likely very difficult. Still, she let none of it show, playing the act well.

    After a lengthy story, two songs and one drinking game. He had got most of his crew hammered. They were now slow and half of them all but passed out. It was the proper time; the only concern was their leader. He had yet to partake, nor his wizard. Alek had tried to entice the man, but he seemed content on his throne.

    The night slowly winded down, soon an issue arose. Three of his old crew expressed a desire to descend to the dungeon. Their intentions were obvious, and they had yet to pass out. Alek rose from his seat, feigning a stumble. He signalled Sara to stay put, directing his gaze to the three leaving. She nodded before shifting her attention to another man. She began flirting with him, plying him with booze.

    Alek left the hall, following close behind them. The trio stumbled their way''s part the sentries and descended. One of them was lagging. He was the first target. Alek slowly but surely snuck his way to the man''s back. Before he could even lay his hands on the man. Alek¡¯s stomach made a loud, sloshing sound.

    This alerted the man, turning around to meet a monster. He bared his fangs and his eyes glowed blood red. He hadn''t learned how to control that. The man¡¯s face was aghast in horror; however, Alek didn¡¯t waste a second. His claws extended, reaching out and cutting the man''s throat. It was messy and not at all what he had intended. The fact made the act easier. He had no memory of the man.

    The other two, however, were a different story. One of them was a friend while the other was a sadist. He dispatched the sadist first, moving swiftly and snapping the man''s neck. Stemford, a Tarkonian, was the other one, and he was as brutal as they came. He was not as drunk, drew a dagger and stabbed Alek.

    The lack of hesitation has mildly hurt him. Yet he had no moral high ground to stand on. Stemford had a flaw in his combat tactics. He liked to look a man in the eyes as they die. Alek was no exception. Stemford gazed up, expecting a dying man. Instead, the last thing he saw was fangs. With the three dispatched, he hid their bodies with the others. He had noticed the bodies were piling up. So much for the peaceful route.

    Turning around, his eyes widened in shock. His former leader, Sara, clinging to the man''s arm, the wizard and four men appeared. He remembered everything. He was formerly a vampire hunter, an exile from the Order of Pyrus. The chain hanging from his shoulder, attached to a heavily runed jar. Within is a bright flame, struggling against its prison.

    ¡°I think you have some explaining to do, Thomas. When did you become cursed by the Upire?¡± He asked softly, feigning compassion.

    Alek didn¡¯t answer. His gaze flickered between everybody. Sara just smiled, hugging Elis tightly. It seemed she had betrayed him. He would have liked to blame her, but he killed her parents. The wizard just glared at the vampire with fascination.

    Ignoring the question, Alek glanced around for an exit. He knew even with his speed, he couldn¡¯t take out this many. With the magic arrayed against him, he didn¡¯t want to put his supposed immortality to the test. Before he could speed away, his ears caught the wizard whispering under his breath.

    ¡°Chains of the netherworld, bind thy foe.¡± The wizard muttered.

    Iron chains emerged from the walls, sped through the air, binding Alek in place. Elis approached, his face draped in a warm smile. His eyes instead told the tale of cruelty and malice.

    ¡°A new beast to burn, how wonderful the darkness is, to present such a challenge.¡± He said ominously.

 Chapter 38 - A Beast In Chains

    Chained like an animal, Alek found himself in the very cell he once threw prisoners. The irony was apparent, he now understood the isolation he visited upon the innocent. His hands were nailed to a wooden contraption, his wrists bound with unbreakable chains. He was stripped naked, revealing his pale dead flesh for all to see.

    Only a few of the old crew that could stand, descended to torture him. Typical methods, punching, kicking, hot pokers. All methods he had seen from the more sadistic members of the crew. Most of the times it was interrogation. Still there were some more overzealous members, they thrived on inflicting pain.

    Sara hadn''t made an appearance; last he saw she was cuddling up to Elis. It was hard for him to find a betrayal in what she did. They were never allies to begin with. He only took her with him, because it would have been suspicious not to return from the dungeon absent a girl. He wondered what her game was, did she plan to become Elis woman. He doubted it, he had met those types and Sara wasn¡¯t it.

    Despite his own thoughts, reality was a harsh mistresses. Sara was with Elis and himself, a captive. Instead of pondering these events towards insanity, he simply waited for a new companion to arrive. None too soon did he wait, as the door slowly opened. Entering was none other then the very woman he pondered. Sara slinked into the cell; her appearance vastly different. Now she was wearing a black dress, some makeup and what appeared to be a jewelled necklace.

    ¡°You have moved up in the world, congratulations.¡± Alek commented.

    ¡°I have, Lord Elis is most generous.¡± She teased, smiling mischievously.

    Approaching the bound man, Sara cast her disdainful gaze downwards. Appearing grander and more terrifying than he recalled.

    ¡°Do you know how long I have waited for such a moment?¡± She inquired, placing her hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°Probably a long time.¡±

    ¡°Correct, a long damn time sitting in that disgusting cell, fed something that could be barely seen as food and listening to the men violate the women in the next cell.¡± Her heart racing, her grip tightened.

    ¡°That sounds like hell.¡±

    ¡°No, hell is what happened to the other girls. I however watched you butcher my family and laugh as they died.¡± With her final word she backhanded Alek across the face.

    Blow after blow she rained down every ounce of fury she had left. She pummelled Alek again and again, desperately staving off exhaustion so she could continue. No matter how hard she hit, no matter how much anger she put behind every blow. The act still felt hollow, the man she hated for so long was dead. His heart no longer beat like a normal man. He had become the monster she saw in her dreams.

    But she didn¡¯t want to kill a monster, she wanted the man. Her desire was to beat the man that murdered her parents to death. This thing before her was not what she expected. Still, she didn¡¯t stop, her rage needed an outlet and here it was. Finally, she stopped, sweat stained her skin, her breath heavy. The fight was gone from her, she was too tired to pummel the man.

    ¡°Feel better?¡± He asked through bloody teeth.

    ¡°A little bit.¡± She answered.

    ¡°I understand, I killed them so beating me to a pulp is expected. What I don¡¯t get, is why you''re sucking up to Elis.¡±

    ¡°Well, he is quite handsome.¡±

    Catching her breath, she turned to pick up a steel rod. They had been using it to beat and burn their prisoner. Brandishing the weapon, laying it upon his shoulder.

    ¡°But he ordered us to attack your village.¡± Alek stated.

    ¡°I know.¡± Is all she said in reply.

    With a single strike to the head, Alek descended into darkness. For longer than he could recall, this darkness lingered. Alone and isolated amidst the blackness and nothingness. Within that nothingness, a voice could be heard.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you die you bastard!¡± A familiar voice spoke angrily.

    Casting a weary gaze, the sight of someone altogether familiar reached his eyes. It was the phantom, the figment of his imagination. The embodiment of the man he once was. It was Thomas, standing their, in the centre of the blackness.

    ¡°Get up and kill that bitch! Go, kill them all!¡±

    ¡°Be quiet, I''m trying to sleep.¡± Alek answered the angry apparition.

    ¡°No!¡± Thomas bellowed.

    That single word echoed in my mind. The darkness that surrounded us, felt like an echo chamber. Alek felt lethargic, his energy draining away. Within this dream state, he could feel needles piercing flesh. Life or whatever kept him animated was draining away.

    ¡°You will not die, get up you bastard!¡±

    ¡°Why should I?¡± Alek replied, exhausted.

    ¡°Please, not again. I can''t do it again.¡± Thomas said, now pleading.

    Finding the shift in tone strange, Alek rose to meet his gaze. All he saw was a man truly frightened, gone was the disdainful sneer. The cocky brute of a man was trembling, a sight he found truly odd. Scanning his peripheries, the darkness was closing in.

    ¡°Death is not something I want to do again. It¡¯s cold and dark, it''s an abyss that holds nothing. Do not let us go through that again!¡±

    ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s what we deserve.¡±

    ¡°This cannot be our end.¡± Thomas whispered as the darkness descended.

    Soon after they were bathed in the pure absence of light. Alek lingered in that quiet space for what felt like eternity. HIs eyes closing, heavy and weary. Before he could descend, a child''s whimper pulled him back. Thomas was gone, now replaced with a familiar child, clothed in rags.

    ¡°Mother.¡± The child pleaded, tears streaking his eyes.

    Alek found his bonds removed, now free he approached. Standing before the child, the world shifted. A new situation manifested to his right. The same child, crying in a shabby looking mattress. A woman without a face, carefully stroking his back and whispering.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay Thomas, it¡¯s not the end of the world. It¡¯s just another day.¡± She spoke with such warmth, for a moment the pain was gone.

    Even though he could not see her face, he knew who she was. That indistinct figure was his mother, the woman that both loved and abandoned him. The vision quickly faded, leaving only the crying child. Kneeling down to eye level, Alek smiled. Even though this was an apparition, provoked by whatever horror awaited in the waking world. The child within him was sad and in need of comfort.

    Sitting down next to the boy, the scene shifted to the cobble stone steps of a chapel. He didn¡¯t recognise the location, the world around was too vague. The boy seated to his left was plain as day. Tears continue to stream, along with several whimpers. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he tried to vainly comfort the poor lad.

    ¡°Their, their young lad, it will all be alright.¡± He said, trying to channel his limited knowledge of children.

    ¡°She isn''t coming back?¡± The boy sobbed, holding his face in his hands.

    Understanding dawned on Alek, this was the moment that put Thomas on his path. He remembered, his mother had left him in front of a chapel and told him to wait for her to return. Young Thomas waited for an entire day, resisting the ache in his stomach and the thirst in his throat. So devoted to the idea that his mother loved him and would return. Her absence broke him, on a fundamental level it broke him.

    ¡°It broke me, broke us.¡± Alek whispered, dawning on him the truth of his past.

    He was not always a monster and though he was a monster in form. He needn''t be at his heart. Taking the boy in his arms, embracing him as a loving parent should. He whispered the words he wished his mother had said at least once more.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the end of the world, it''s just another day.¡± Those simple words, seemed to reach the young man.

    Raising his tear-streaked face, the two gazed at one another. The child he once was and the man he is now. They didn¡¯t recognise one another, the gulf was too wide and their natures unfamiliar. But in that moment, they trusted each other and accepted those words. The child embraced Alek and the two for a moment found peace. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The moment didn¡¯t last as another figure appeared in the distance. Several figures, prone on the ground. They resonated with his bestial self and without words he understood who they were.

    ¡°Awaken.¡± Alek said ominously.

    In the waking world, outside of the castle. Several figures surrounded a wooden bonfire, stacks of bodies were strewn upon it. Two figures were leaning over, lit torches in each hand.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, it still doesn¡¯t feel right to burn them. I mean we went on our first raid together.¡± The dark-haired bandit said, his head face dropping.

    ¡°Yeah, first raids are special. But what can you do, the boss man wants them torched.¡± The pile of muscle replied.

    ¡°I know, but maybe we should say something over them.¡±

    ¡°You mean like a prayer?¡± He asked, getting a nod from his counterpart.

    ¡°Do we look religious?¡±

    ¡°No, in fact I have killed a priest, which probably puts me in the bad books of the water bitch.¡± He shrugged with a smirk.

    ¡°Oh yeah, the raid on that pious village. They had some good virgins. Not so much once we were done with them.¡±

    The two chuckled, recalling the grotesque history fondly. The two hadn''t noticed the subtle movement of the two supposedly dead bodies. Before they knew it, the eyes opened and fangs descended. The last thing they heard was their own screams and the sound of tearing flesh.

    Back in the cell, the sudden jolt brought Alek out of his dream state. Waking up he noticed the wizard, wrapped in the typical cloak they usually wore. He was desperately collecting several jugs filled with red liquid. The situation was obvious, the wizard had been collecting Alek¡¯s blood.

    The two locked eyes and the wizard shrugged before scuttling away. Alek would need to kill that man, unfortunately he felt weak and barely held on. Despite that weakness dragging him down, he could still sense something. Focusing, he found a tether reaching out towards two figures. Suddenly it became three and now four.

    Soon understanding dawned on him, they were his children. Transformed and made vampire. He could feel them, their rage and hunger. They were multiplying, attacking any living being nearby. Some they drained to dust, while others they left alive to turn. They cut a swath through the castle like a plague upon a village.

    He could hear the screams and clash of battle. Someone sounded a horn, likely some sort of alarm. Concentrating, he guided his children towards his cell. Four vampires made their way down the stairs and to the dungeons. Crowding outside the cell door, they savaged the entrance. Tearing and smashing their way through.

    With sheer ferocity and strength, they bashed down the door and made their way in. Their figures came into view and to any civilised person, they would be grotesque. Malformed and sharp facial features, caked in fresh blood. Fangs on display and claws at the ready. These four pale monstrosities had one goal. To kill and feed, it seemed default and ingrained.

    Despite that impulse, they obeyed the strange force pressing upon their mind. It directed them to their progenitor. With a few slashes of their claws, Alek was freed. With another burst of thought, he commanded them to bring him blood. One complied and left the cell, returning with a screaming bandit.

    Alek didn¡¯t bother to recall his name. Instead. He sank in is fangs and drank him dry. The blood rejuvenated and brought him back to a clear mind. With his faculties returned, he dropped the corpse and rose to meet his children. They waited silently, eager to act on his every thought. Despite the horror that was occurring, Alek found his children, adorable in a way.

    Realising that the bloodshed would continue without his intervention. He commanded the four to follow him. Sensing the formerly captive women, still hiding in the secret room. He sent the vampires upstairs and to the great hall. Bodies were strewn about haphazardly. Most of the had faint whiffs of the dark energy. It wouldn¡¯t be long before they rose from the grave.

    Before following along, he turned back to the secret room. Entering, he found the group of women, all wielding improvised weapons. A frying pan, a chair and a wooden bar, likely pulled from a wardrobe. Their weapons didn¡¯t drop even when their saviour arrived.

    ¡°What''s happening?¡± One of them said.

    ¡°Your escape is close at hand.¡± Alek stated, pushing past them.

    Entering the concealed corner, he ignored the gasps from the women. The resolve bursting in his un-beating heart was too much to ignore. Approaching the blood red armour, he went to remove it from its perch. The moment his hand touch metal, the armour morphed around his fingers. It felt like dipping his hand into a lake.

    The armour twisted and turned, wrapping around his palm. Shocked for only a moment, he strangely felt an understanding. Allowing the amorphous blob to crawl across his skin and solidify. In a matter of moments his body was now covered in thick armour. It felt light despite its appearance, he could feel a strange sensation, radiating off the metal.

    Sparing no more time, he pulled the broadsword from its perch. Inspecting the blade and finding it a marvel to look at. His reverie was short-lived, he had a job to do and lingering was not an option. He left the confines of the concealed space. Giving a few thoughts to how that worked and just came to the conclusion of magic.

    The women gasped at the sight of a towering demon in blood red armour, wielding a broadsword. He hadn''t intended to scare them, but that¡¯s just how it went down.

    ¡°Me and my fellows will carve a path for you all to escape. You can wait for my signal or you can vacate at your leisure.¡± Delivering that ultimatum, he promptly left the dumbfounded group.

    Reaching the great hall, he found his vampires in a bloody melee with the last remaining bandits. They were being overwhelmed in a accompany of claws and swords. Entering the hall, the scent of fresh blood was overwhelming. Yet it was another smell that shifted his attention. The scent of smoke and burnt flesh.

    Looking up towards the raised platform, he spotted the figure of Elis. The man was outfitted in the priestly battle robes of Pyrus. Next to him was of course, Sara. She clung to him like a maiden in love with a handsome knight. Elis was not noble at all, in fact the sadistic gleam in his eyes did not bode well.

    Energy pulsed from the glass container on his belt. The container now bright and luminous, like a sun contained within a small space. The energy pulsed, rising up his side and towards his raised palm. Thrusting his hand forward, a gout of flame bathed the hall in fire. Monsters and men screamed alike, as in that moment, it did not matter what they were. Fire did not discriminate and the remaining bandits were burnt to cinders.

    As for Alek¡¯s children, they were not spared. He felt many of them die, struck so early in their unlife. He couldn¡¯t bare it; anger fuelled his next move. Barrelling forward with reckless abandoned. He foolishly met the flame head on. Not understanding why, he did something so idiotic.

    Charging forward, the fire consumed him. The flames were intense, but no pain could be felt. The armour he had taken, protected him from the heat. It was a wise chose to don this ancient relic. Leaping atop the platform, broadsword in hand. He struck down upon his foe. The attack was countered by an invisible barrier, surrounding the pair. Likely the wizards work, yet the arcane individual was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°I like the armour, I will claim it as a prize. Slaying demons is its own reward. But I cannot deny the luxuries from a good kill.¡± Elis said smugly, guiding his flames around him.

    With a thought Alek commanded all his children to retreat. He had lost to many from the first barrage of heat.

    ¡°Scurrying away from the fire, typical beasts.¡±

    ¡°You''re not so clean Elis, I wonder what the order would say about you.¡± Alek struck back.

    His insult hit the mark and the pyromancer directed his seething gaze at Alek.

    ¡°Those fools didn¡¯t understand the power we had. Serving the spirits instead of harnessing them. I am liberated form their chains.¡± He announced proudly.

    Keeping him talking, Alek directed some of his vampires around the raised platform. Using their claws to scale the walls, they ascended quickly. Alek leapt forward, striking the barrier several times, before narrowly dodging a gout of flame.

    Every strike he could feel the barrier give. The pulsating energy it emitted was naked to his sight. The barrier was not perfect, energy did not flow all around it. The flow coalesced at the major area of impact. He could see the energy drain from other vantages, to take up a front position. Not knowing how much damage his armour could take. He resolved to beat the barrier into submission.

    ¡°More foolish actions, I don¡¯t understand him. Perhaps he has truly been taken by the bestial nature.¡± Elis stated, shifting his gaze to Sara.

    ¡°He is certainly ferocious, like a rabid dog.¡± She remarked.

    With that brief distraction, Alek rendered his final attack. Lunging into the barrier, finally the sword penetrated. The blade stabbed deeply; half its length entered. He could feel the barrier pushing back against the attack. The proximity of the deadly weapon startled Elis.

    Raising his palm to blast us with fire. The two vampires descended from the roof. Landing on the barriers dome like ceiling, they clawed and pummelled its surface. With attacks from multiple directions, the barrier couldn¡¯t hold.

    The vampire¡¯s descended within striking range. In panic, Elis unleashed a storm of heat. The fire blazed up from the ground to surround him. Blasting everyone within his radius. His two vampires were vaporised and Alek himself was blasted back. Dazed and confused, he quickly ascended to his feet.

    What he found was a tired Elis, fireball in hand and ready to strike. The pyromancer looked weak and weary, yet he still wielded enough power to finish a downed vampire. The armour was damaged, the previous blast had managed to break through. Despite the scorching, Alek could notice the armour repairing itself.

    He didn¡¯t have time to gawk at such a magical armour. His death was imminent, the fireball gleaming in his enemy''s hand would seal his fate. Before he struck down his final blow. Sara, clinging to the man¡¯s side, sported a wide grin. Before either of them could react, she grabs the bright jar from his belt and smashed it on the floor.

    The glass broke and unleashed a deafening screech. Bright light soon followed along with intense heat. Alek quickly raced away from the blast zone, just as the screams started. Elis was now engulfed in flames, his flesh melting off the bone. The fire seemed alive, snaking over his form, trying to inflict as much damage as possible. The fire didn¡¯t discriminate, not even Sara was spared from the blaze.

    By the time he got to his feet, it was all over. Elis was nothing but a charred stain on the ground. A fitting end to a man that delighted in burning others. It was Sara¡¯s charred form that drew his attention. Moving to her side, he listened for a heartbeat. Silence was the only response and death was the answer.

    Cradling the body, his fellow vampires surrounded him. They weren''t coming to give him comfort. They slobbered over the fresh meat. With his fangs bare, he growled them away from the body. They shrunk back like frightened children.

    He knew that saving her was not in the cards. In fact, she likely hoped he would die in the explosion. With her body cradled in his arms, he walked towards the platform. Laying her down gently, he gave her one last look, before settling down on the throne. Weary in mind rather in body. He tried to rationalise all that happened.

    These events didn¡¯t go as planned and many people died. Others had been raised as monsters. Perhaps he could be happy with the others he saved. He wondered, seated on the throne, if that would clear his ledger of deaths. He doubted it, but hoped it helped some.

    Sighing and dipping his head. He mentally called his vampires to the great hall. As they gathered, he sat, gloomily. Wondering if he should just sit and wait for his father to arrive. He sensed the captive women fleeing the castle, hopefully they would reach their families. Some had remained, he could hear them debating. Noone was left for them, so nowhere to go.

    At his lowest moment, he noticed a slight twitch in Sara¡¯s corpse. Suddenly his body erupted in bright light. It was blinding and emitted enough heat to be felt. In the span of a moment, the light faded, and Alek¡¯s magical vision showed him a glorious sight.

    He wasn¡¯t sure, but he could see the life and vitality of a spirit, dwelling within her. She rose to a seating position, turned to him and asked the obvious question.

    ¡°How am I not dead?¡±

    The query perplexed everyone, leaving the assembled cadre of monsters stunned.

 Chapter 39 - A Meeting Of Heroes

    Meanwhile, in the Empire, a distraught Jasmine sat at the bedside of Peter. She had only known him for a few weeks. Still, she had grown to care for him. Though she would never admit it out loud. Her own family had little compassion for her own siblings. Latching onto a teenage stranger seems ill-suited for a woman of her station.

    Of course, internally she cared little for what her family thought of her. She just maintained the fa?ade because it was convenient and economical. But in this world of swords and magic. Was it okay for her to act out and express herself? Even without the oppressive shadow of her family. There were still threats, even in this fantastical world.

    Her prior conversation with the witch took the air out of her lungs. Demon infections were nasty business and not even the spirits could save someone from it. Peter, along with the Lord Governor, was handed a death sentence. Demons were a concept she barely pondered, even back on earth. Her family created the guise of God fearing, but most, include herself, were atheists. Sitting there, hopeless and without recourse, she wracked her brain around a solution.

    ¡°What the hell do I do?¡± She asked no one.

    ¡°Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?¡± A voice answered.

    Looking around, she couldn¡¯t spot the origin. The only sound was the soft snoring of Peter.

    ¡°You can¡¯t see me, can you? Wait a minute, this magic is very finnicky.¡±

    She could hear someone humming. The situation was very surreal. Despite her nervousness, she calmed herself quickly. Magic was real in this world, so why not magical voice chat? The moment she thought of that, her mind turned to holographic video chat, as an illusion of a man took form.

    ¡°Can you see me now?¡± He asked, waving his hands in front.

    ¡°Yes, I can. Quite impressive. Is it some sort of long-distance communication magic?¡± She asked, passing her hand through the illusion.

    ¡°Well, it''s a kind of combination of several magics. Complicated stuff, especially in this world.¡±

    ¡°This world?¡± She inquired, getting closer to the answer.

    ¡°Come on Jazz, you should know already.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me Jazz, it¡¯s Jasmine.¡± She corrected sternly.

    ¡°But that¡¯s a perfect nickname.¡± He remarked, only to be rebuffed.

    ¡°Your no fun.¡±

    ¡°And you''re weird.¡± She stated flatly.

    ¡°Never been called weird before, but I have been called mad.¡± Twirling a finger around his ear, he emphasised he was indeed, loco.

    ¡°But enough of the past, especially since the present is so interesting.¡±

    ¡°Indeed... Who are you exactly?¡±

    ¡°Oh, where are my manners? My mother would smack me on the head for this?¡± The illusion stood and bowed.

    ¡°Alistair Klark, former summoned hero to the Kingdom of Vethia, Branded Sorcerer of Gorcythe, the Mad Wizard of Asteria and Saviour of Matesh. Pleased to make your acquittance.¡± He finished his introduction with a last flourish of his hands.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the list of titles.¡± She answered flatly.

    ¡°Oh, I''m sure you will have a number before the year''s end. Champion of Terranuk.¡±

    ¡°So, I was right. You are like us, summoned as a hero. Yet the empire was adamant there were only three heroes summoned. Of course, I am not blind to the lack of a fourth element.¡± She gestured to him; he responded by creating a mini tornado in his palm.

    ¡°You are the fourth hero?¡±

    "Only technically, the emperor was correct. They only summoned three."

    ¡°Does that mean you are some sort of inter-dimensional hitchhiker?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far, but in a technical sense, you are correct.¡± Ending his magic trick, he leaned forward with a smile.

    ¡°But enough of the introductions. I have a debt to pay. If it was not for you, I would be a red smear on the pavement.¡± Nodding his head, he gave another slight bow of respect.

    ¡°With this in mind, whatever you need, the grand wizard Al will provide. Within reason, of course.¡± He offered, hoping she didn¡¯t ask for something crazy.

    Instead of answering, she pondered her next words. Her gaze subtly drawn to the sleeping form of Peter. Understanding dawned. Al immediately knew what she was going to ask.

    ¡°Can you cure Peter and Lord Anthos?¡± She inquired.

    ¡°Depends on what malady has befallen them.¡±

    ¡°The wizards and spirit magi all say it''s the devil''s poison. Blood from an arch-devil is toxic to the soul. There is no cure, at least according to them. But you have travelled to other worlds. Perhaps you have learned a way.¡±

    ¡°Devil¡¯s poison. I have heard it called by another name. Taint of the infernal, they called it on Matesh.¡± He described, thinking back on his past.

    ¡°They''re certainly a cure, but I doubt the Empire will go for it. Heretical, I think.¡±

    Tilting her head, she noted his answer. She weighed the options; her understanding of the Empire was not miniscule. She could see the prejudice against non-human races. In fact, she found it surprising that slavery wasn''t normalised. Yet the religious zealotry was obvious. The temples preached against demons and Demi-humans. While she couldn¡¯t fathom demons being anything other than misunderstood non-humans. This man''s answers suggest demonic entities of infernal might may in fact exist

    ¡°Taint of the infernal. Are you suggesting demons are real, not just demonised non-humans?¡± She inquired, curious, but also concerned.

    "Oh yes, demons from the infernal planes exist. I suspect the demons of this world are the descendants of some invading demonic host. The world I was summoned to also experienced similar events in its history."

    ¡°For example, the Demon Kingdom of Kimera was a nation in the world of Matesh. Labelled as a den of demonic forces. It was, in fact, three different nations, loosely bound by a confederation. Only one of the member kingdoms had citizens of a demonic origin. The true name would, in fact, be the Triarchy of Kimera or the United Kingdom of Kimera. But united kingdoms might be a stretch. One of the member nations, the Court of Von-Tyr, is more akin to a council of state of vampire houses.¡± He explained with his own little lore dump.

    ¡°Sorry about the lore dump, anthropology major. Species and civilisations are a bit of a hobby.¡± He added, shrugging.

    ¡°You attended college?¡±

    ¡°Only for about a year, getting summoned to another world cut off my education prospects.¡±

    ¡°I can certainly see that as a problem. I took a double major in finance and business administration.¡±

    ¡°Business savvy, nice.¡±

    The two shared a smile, hiding shared bitter disappointment. Both had regrets, but neither had any inclination to voice them.

    ¡°Well, I have a debt to pay, but I think I know what you will ask.¡± He gestured to the prone form of Peter.

    ¡°Do you know of a method to treat him? I would consider the debt paid in full.¡± She asked, more desperately than she had expected.

    ¡°I know of a way, though it is quite heretical. At least based on this place''s perspective.¡± Casting his gaze around, he gestured to the room. Of course, he was referring to the empire.

    ¡°What kind of method?¡±

    ¡°Well, it would require summoning a friend of mine to administer the treatment.¡±

    ¡°Are they some kind of doctor or wizard?¡± She queried.

    ¡°Oh, he knows a lot about magic. Except his skills lie in the more infernal aspects of study.¡± He answered, smiling sheepishly.

    "If he can help, I will consider your debt paid. Can he treat two patients? The local lord was also poisoned."

    ¡°I''m sure he can cater for two patients.¡±

    The two agreed, but Jasmine was still concerned and asked the obvious question.

    ¡°Who exactly is this person?¡±

    Al smiled, one part concerned, and another amused.

    ¡°Oh, he is a resident of the infernal. If you could give him a label, he would be a mid-tier demon sorcerer.¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The word he just uttered sent a shock down her spine. Did he just offer to summon a demon to assist her? That was what she thought, and she knew it was heresy. Not that she subscribed to the temple''s teachings, although she was a champion of one of them.

    ¡°You want to summon a demon into the Empire. An Empire that views demons as heretical beings of malice?¡± She asked, not out of any prejudice, more for concern about discovery.

    ¡°It is a risk; I found this empire odd when I arrived. But I can see where they are coming from. It makes sense for them to become demon haters and human supremacists. Nothing like an external enemy to get a species to hate collectively.¡± Adding with a slight chuckle, he laid bare his opinion.

    ¡°If that is the case, do we have any other options?¡± She asked, not expecting much.

    ¡°Not that I can think of, and I don¡¯t think we have much time.¡±

    The finality of his answer cemented the path they must tread upon. Resigning to the truth, she inquired how to go about summoning this demon.

    The process was remarkably simple. Draw a specific diagram on the floor, sacrifice some blood, do a simple chant followed by the demon''s name. With the apparition''s help, Jasmine traced the runic symbols on the floor. She used paint she had gained from a servant and sketched out the diagram. It took a few tries, but she got it as close as possible.

    Throughout the process, her mind wandered to her worries. Was this the best choice, is another option available, is this man even trustworthy? Many questions swirled around her mind. Still, she continued. Peter was dying and no one else had an answer.

    With the diagram finished, Al explained the chant. Going through each verse. The chant was odd in English. Al explained that summoning chants doesn¡¯t require a specific language. The chant will work if you say the correct words and perform the demonic rites. He also added you need a rich magical environment or an appropriate power source.

    "From shadows deep and curses black, Maligore, heed our beck and call. Sorcerer of maladies, answer our plea, with healing touch, let afflictions fall. By incantations and powers unknown, we bind our fates to your sinister grace. Grant your mending, but demand the toll. In darkness and pain, our pacts embrace. From realms of shadows emerge. The doctor of demons, the healer of dread. Maligore, we summon thee. With arcane words, our desires spread."

    With a cut of the palm and the chant performed, the diagram glowed faintly. A moment passed without a sign. Suddenly, the diagram emanated heat. Soon after, a gout of fire rose to eye level, before exhausting in an instant.

    They stood the demon, so named Maligore, the accursed healer and doctor of the damned. Tattered, obsidian robes that seem to absorb even the faintest hint of light drape over his tall, imposing figure. The fabric shimmers with an otherworldly iridescence, casting an eerie glow on his gaunt, pallid complexion. His eyes burn like smouldering embers, radiating a malevolent energy that seems to pierce through the darkness.

    A twisted grin curled on his thin lips, revealing a hint of sharp, jagged teeth that glint ominously. His fingers, adorned with ornate, gnarled rings, twitch with an anticipation of the dark sorcery he''s about to unleash. The very air seems to shiver in his presence, as if recoiling from the depths of his sinister power.

    But to Jasmine, he looks strangely cartoonish, like a dedicated Halloween attendee. In fact, she could probably purchase that complete outfit online and go as a female version. Stifling a laugh, since this demon was here to help them. She remained stoic and gazed at him with expectation.

    Amidst the demonic rune, the air crackled with dark energy. Maligore the Accursed is now here in complete form. His presence exuded an otherworldly aura as he fixed his piercing gaze upon the summoner. With a voice that seemed to echo from the abyss, he intoned, "I am Maligore, the twisted mender of souls, drawn from the nether to answer your call. Speak, mortal, and unveil the ailment that festers within you."

    Jasmine, greeted by this demon, was about to answer. The sight of the demon silenced her. The demon shifted his gaze. I darted around the room. He was sniffing the air, his eyes shifted to the apparition that was Al. The demons'' eyes burrowed into the spectral form.

    ¡°Alistair, you bastard, from which world did you summon me? This is not Matesh!¡± The demon doctor seemed less angry and more annoyed.

    The demon glared at the spectral form; his eyes seemed to glow an ominous red. The tension was palpable, broken only by the next voice.

    ¡°Come on Mal, buddy old pal. Think of it as an adventure, new lands, new deals to be made.¡± Al tried to placate the demon with minimal success.

    ¡°Last time you said that, I almost got eaten by a dragon.¡±

    ¡°You''re a demon Mal. You would just reform in the inferno.¡±

    "That¡¯s not the point. I don¡¯t want a pissed off and wounded dragon to eat me!"

    ¡°Come on, Emberix was cool. He only tried to nip you. I mean, you jabbed him with a big ass needle.¡±

    "That needle was expensive and contained a glorious concoction of my design. Perfectly made to assist in the digestion of undead fecal matter."

    Raising his hands in a placating gesture, Al expressed his deepest apologies.

    ¡°Alright, I am sorry for that. Still, you owe me, and I would like to collect.¡± He added unashamedly.

    Maligore shook his head, realising once again who he was talking to. Accepting his fate as the natural order of things, he turned to his summoner.

    ¡°Normally, I would require payment and a proper deal. But this was one will be free. Now, where is the patient?¡±

    Jasmine turned to the prone form of Peter. This act signalled the demonic surgeon to act. Reaching out, he pulled a doctor''s bag from thin air. It was black instead of white and appeared far more gothic. Stepping out of the of diagram, he arrived at his patient. Seating himself, a chair manifested below him. All ignored as a matter of course, all these feats of magic attending.

    ¡°Let¡¯s have some privacy, shall we?¡± He fluttered his fingers, casting a silence spell.

    Maligore, the sinister healer, loomed over with an air of calculated anticipation. With a gesture of his hand, he summoned a swirling vortex of black and crimson energy. It danced around the patient''s form, akin to the festive fae. As the energies intertwined, the patient''s screams intensified, merging with the unnerving chorus of whispering voices that echoed through the room. Maligore''s eyes gleamed with an eerie intensity, chanting spells in a language long forgotten by mortals. Al stopped Jasmine from intervening by placing a hand on her arm.

    Slowly, the patient''s convulsions subsided, replaced by a ghastly stillness. With a final crescendo of power, Maligore thrust his hands into the vortex, causing it to surge into the patient''s body. A sickly light enveloped the patient as the air crackled with malevolent energy. The light faded; the patient''s features had changed.

    Their once pale skin now bore intricate patterns of dark veins, pulsating with the essence of the demonic energy that now coursed through them. Maligore stepped back, his eyes filled with a perverse satisfaction. The patient''s agonised expression had transformed into one of euphoric relief, a twisted smile curling their lips.

    "You are healed, but forever changed," Maligore hissed, his voice a haunting undertone.

    "The devil''s blood within you now dances with the fire of the abyss. Embrace your newfound vitality, for you are bound to the darkness that has made you whole once more."

    Peter who had just come out of the abyss of sleep. Fluttered his eyelids, his body felt light, and the pain had gone. Before he could get his bearings, a strange sense came into focus. A presence he felt only once before was soon to arrive. Maligore, who was standing above him, sensed this presence as well.

    ¡°That¡¯s my cue to leave.¡± With those words, he vanished in a puff of smoke.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure he heals the other guy. You can consider us even.¡± Al added, before he vanished as well.

    Only Jasmine and Peter remained. She was concerned, while he was thoroughly confused. Rising to a seated position, his gaze fell upon Jasmine.

    ¡°Jazz, what''s going on?¡± He weakly asked. Despite the treatment, he still didn¡¯t have all his strength back.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Rest for now. I will deal with whatever is going to happen.¡± She replied reassuringly.

    The patron spirit of water materialised her form, shimmering like liquid moonlight. The long, flowing hair cascades down like streams of silvery water. Her eyes, the colour of the deep ocean depths, radiate a fierce determination. With every movement, droplets of water seem to dance around her, creating an aura of fluid grace.

    Her presence is charged with anger and resentment, as if the very essence of the room shrinks back from the memory of the demon that once tainted it. The water spirit''s ethereal voice resonates, carrying the weight of countless whispered currents, as she vocalises her indignation at the former malevolent inhabitant. Each word she utters forms ripples in the air, a visual representation of her emotional turmoil.

    She floated above the ground, her movements mirror the ebb and flow of the tides, a reminder of her natural dominion over water. Her anger transformed the room into a battleground of conflicting energies. The echoes of her oceanic wrath clashed with the lingering traces of the demonic presence. And in that moment, her determination to cleanse and purify the space became a powerful testament to the potency of her elemental rage.

    ¡°What have you done?!¡± the spirit forcefully questioned.

    ¡°I did what I had to do.¡± The hero of earth answered simply.

    Aquara traced her watery eyes around the room. Her sight ended upon Peter. The boy whom she named champion of the ocean. When the demonic poison struck him down. She wept, knowing he would fall. He would not be the first to be slain in such a way. Yet even with passaging so much time, she hadn''t cured this affliction.

    Demonic forces were anathema to her very being and even the magic of this world. Only truly archaic methods used by wizards could even touch the infernal realm. Unknown to most, the wizards were fools. Their powers did not drag the damned creatures from their home. It merely constructed a doorway so they can pass through and infect the world.

    This act was heresy, not by her own temple. Her brother Pyrus, of the eternal flame, saw demons as the highest of heretical beings. They polluted the power of fire with their sickly energy. Therefore, he despised them most of all. Aquara, she cared little for demons. While her prejudice was not as great as her brothers. She would not hesitate to destroy such beings.

    ¡°You summoned a demon into this world. That is heresy, especially performed by a champion of the spirits.¡± Lecturing the mortal, she seemed more disappointed than angry, fearful rather than furious.

    ¡°He was dying, you two-bit water god!¡± Jasmine shot back, far angrier than she had ever been.

    ¡°I did what had to be done. You and your spiritual trinity had no solution. So, I did some out of the box thinking. As you can see, he lives.¡± Gesturing to the confused Peter, she unveils the fruits of her action.

    Aquara wanted to shoot back, to give into the rising anger. But something kept in her check. It wasn¡¯t the words of this mortal, neither her own self-control. It was fear, a kind of fear that even someone as powerful as she could feel. Deciding, our hand outstretched towards Peter. With the flick of her watery wrist, Peter glowed. The young man responded by muttering coolly under his breath.

    ¡°This act does not leave this room. Do you understand me?¡±

    Jasmine, picking up on the cues, realised what the water spirit was getting at. She nodded in affirmation, just as her gaze shifted to the glowing Peter. Noticing the gaze, Aquara quickly explained.

    ¡°The taint of the infernal is being smothered by my grace. Not even my siblings will sense it. Ensure they don¡¯t.¡±

    Agreeing to those terms, Jasmine didn¡¯t want to further upset the angry water spirit. Still, she needed her help for another bit of subterfuge.

    ¡°Can you do that again with Lord Anthos?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you sent that wretched demon to the bedside of the warden?¡± She asked, exhausted and thoroughly annoyed.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± She answered with a single word.

    It was a yes, and prompted Aquara to sigh heavily.

    ¡°I will be back, my dear Peter. Rest easy, okay?¡± She said with words far kinder than before.

    ¡°Sure thing, my watery goddess.¡±

    With that, Aquara faded away, sinking into the floor. Now only two left in the room, Jasmine turned to Peter.

    ¡°Okay, here is the situation. Heretical methods healed you, so we are going to have to lie to many people.¡±

    Tilting his head, he pondered for a moment before shrugging.

    ¡°Sure thing, boss lady.¡± Giving a salute, he accepted the situation as it was.

    ¡°Do you know where my game is?¡±

    The question just came out, but Jasmine sighed at the personality of this youngster. Sometimes she noticed how immature people were, even though they were closer in age.

    ¡°A demon brought you back from near death and your priority is your game?¡± she asked, less a question and more an accusation.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t choose the gamers'' life; the life chose me.¡± His answer was the same as always.

    ¡°Wait a second, brought back from near death by a demon. Does that mean a demon cursed me with its dark powers? Is my path as a dark hero all but assured.¡± Emphasizing his words with a flamboyant flourish of his hands.

    Jasmine¡¯s face fell into her own, embarrassed by this boy. Despite that, a faint trace of a smile lingered only for a moment.

 Chapter 40 - Times Are Changing

    In a grand hall adorned with opulent tapestries and intricate chandeliers, nobles in resplendent attire converse with wizards wearing robes adorned with strange symbols. Merchants, easily distinguished by their sumptuous fabrics, engage in hushed discussions, forming a tapestry of power and influence.

    The air is thick with tension, the weight of the kingdom''s uncertain future is palpable. A large, ornate table lies at the head of the chamber, displaying maps and documents that determine Helgos'' fate. The flicker of candlelight dances across concerned faces as they debate the fate of the kingdom.

    ¡°This cannot stand. We must have a response!¡± An elderly noble complained to the assembled lords and pillars of the community.

    ¡°Lord Corlis, contain yourself. We will not have this council devolve into a verbal spat.¡± A woman answered, chastising the steaming noble.

    ¡°Fine, Lady Janis, but you all see the dire state we are in. Unknown terrorists ravage our capital. Citizens in the street and what makes this worse. The Empire didn¡¯t do a blood thing to stop it.¡± Despite his tone lessening in volume, his anti-imperial sentiment remained.

    ¡°To blame everything on the Empire is a bit much, Hector. I mean, the attack decimated many of their institutions.¡±

    The trio were an odd pairing. An elderly noble with greying hair and the lines of age. Despite the advanced age, he carried himself like a bear, ready for a fight. The woman was much younger but looked in her forties. Her face permanently set as unemotional as humanly possible.

    The third noble was young, looking to be in his late twenties. He had the vigour of youth, sharp eyes and a gleam in his eyes that desired everything he could get.

    ¡°That just proves the fact. The Empire, despite lording themselves over us, couldn¡¯t even defend themselves.¡± Spewing his venomous words, straight upon the Empire. Several attendees of this council nodded, while others remained silent.

    ¡°The Empire dispatched their champions. I even heard the hero of fire single handedly quelled a blaze in the upper district.¡± One merchant added in defence of the Empire.

    Lord Corlis scowled at the one who spoke, so named Master Samhan. The disdain was obvious and with no intention of concealing. Samhan winced, but stood his ground. He was a pillar of the community and the guild master of the Merchant Alliance. The alliance loosely associated with the Guild collective, but not yet fully integrated.

    ¡°The Guild Master has a point; we have the trinity in our city now. It would be unwise to provoke the Empire.¡± Another voice spoke, a stocky and well-built man.

    He was the master of the Mercenary Guild and a fabled warrior in his younger days. Still young by earth standards, his half a century of life has yet to claim his strength.

    ¡°Master Gerris is right, the heroic trinity is within our borders. They are the physical manifestation of the empire''s power.¡± Guild Master Samhan exclaimed.

    ¡°Perhaps we should wait until Warden Anthos recovers before making any drastic action.¡± Lady Janis spoke, her attempt to quell the treasonous direction.

    ¡°Anthos is all but dead. My aids have informed me he is poisoned with devil''s blood. Like the champion of Aquara, they are both dead.¡± Corlis sneered. To all in attendance, he seemed to enjoy that very reality.

    ¡°That is blasphemy Corlis, you must repent.¡± The representative of the temples rose from his seat and chastised the noble.

    To everyone, the robed and elderly man in his late seventies had no faith behind his words. The entire council knew he had lost his faith. He spent most of his time just repeating the sermons and posing as a holy man. For many years now, the Temple''s power and popularity had waned. The spirits could not find many followers in Helgos and thus their outreach programs were subpar.

    People widely considered the Guild Collective, possessing immeasurable wealth and support, the true church in a kingdom of atheists. Nothing was better represented than High Priest Negan. A holy man on the outside, but a sniveling snake on the inside.

    Amid the fervent debate, a figure in rich, opulent attire rises from his seat. Mr. Stillson, a shrewd and wealthy merchant, exudes an aura of cold calculation. His piercing eyes sweep across the room as he clears his throat, demanding attention. Just as he speaks, a discreet man leans in to whisper urgent news.

    Despite the aid''s pale face and strained whispering, Stillson¡¯s expression remains the same. Once done, he nods to his aid and the man quickly vacates. Shifting his attention back to the assembled council. He noticed each of them had ceased all debate and had their full attention on him.

    "Assembled councilors, I think it would be far more prudent to decide once we have all the facts."

    ¡°What is it Jonathan? Do you have something to say?¡± Samhan inquired, a slight note of displeasure in his voice.

    Stillson ignored the impolite use of his first name, instead he continued. ¡°I have just heard a report of a Lankosian invasion force crossing the border. The army will reach Aresla in a matter of days.¡± He delivered the news so calmly; anyone would think he was describing the weather.

    Suddenly, the council erupted into a panic. Lords, ladies, merchants and guild masters, each expressing the fear those words had incited. The notion of war was something everyone had suspected. But the cold, hard reality pounded them. This war could plunge the continent into the largest conflict in human history.

    ¡°It is only a Lankosian army, perhaps this will just be a border dispute with Tarkon.¡± Lord Corlis lackey spoke up, trying to inject hope into a desolate room.

    ¡°The invasion force is much too large for a simple border dispute. Tarkon will have to field an equal number, unless they want to seed Aresla to Lankos.¡± Shooting down the lackey, the room quickly returns to the tense atmosphere.

    ¡°The King of Tarkon would never seed land to savages. It would consign his people to slave labour and that¡¯s the kinder fate.¡± Another noble added.

    Beside him, his attendant, dressed in extravagant attire, passionately addresses the gathering, "Esteemed council, it is my solemn belief that the Demi-humans of Lankos exist in a state of sheer savagery, devoid of the refinement that graces our own society. We must rally our troops and stand united with the noble kingdom of Tarkon. If we deploy our own forces to rescue Aresla. The King of Tarkon will be in our debt." Explaining his reasoning, the obvious disdain for the nun-humans was clear.

    ¡°That action is far too hasty. Our kingdom has yet to recover from this tragedy. Besides, I have met Lankosians personally. They were quite amicable during my dealings in Teskamir.¡± Stillson interjected. His words seemed on the surface to be in defence of a species.  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    To the untrained eye, he appeared to reject the image of Demi-humans as savages. But a closer inspection would reveal he was only providing the cold, hard facts. Stillson had travelled across the border into the federation several times. While the relationship between the Empire and the Federation was poor, there was still trade.

    Most of his trips were to the Trade City of Teskamir. Teskamir, nestled within the United Realms of Lankos, is a remarkable semi-independent city-state with a vibrant history and diverse population. Originally established as a trading town amidst the turmoil of the repeated war between Tarkon and Lankos.

    It evolved slowly into a bustling city. Refugees from various backgrounds sought solace within its walls. The heart of Teskamir beats with a multicultural rhythm, inhabited by Demi-humans such as beast men, demons, and a small human minority. The city''s unique makeup enriches its culture, architecture, and daily life. Its streets are lively tapestries of language, tradition, and customs. A testament to the coexistence of different races.

    Having risen from its humble origins, Teskamir has grown into an economic player on the board. Its bustling bazaars are renowned across the region. The city''s strategic location has made it a hub for commerce and trade between the vassals of the Empire and Teskamir itself.

    Teskamir''s journey to independence and its eventual membership in the Federation revealed the city''s determination to carve its own destiny. Its status, comparable to that of the esteemed Wizard State of Ikarus, reflected its political importance and contribution to the greater realm. Teskamir is more than just a city; it''s a testament to the potential of cooperation and understanding among diverse groups. The thriving centre of trade and culture,

    ¡°To deal with savages, I don¡¯t know how you do it, Jonathan.¡± Someone rudely interjected.

    ¡°Savagery is a matter of perspective. If they know the simple principles of trade, we can profit.¡±

    ¡°Spoken like a true profiteer. I guess that¡¯s why you are the wealthiest man in the room.¡± Lord Corlis smiled; his words prompted nods of approval from a disturbing majority.

    The anti-demihuman sentiment dropped rather quickly after that. With everyone''s attention, Stillson enacted the second part of his plan. Everything he had been working for hinged on this moment. Inhaling a quick breath and plastering on a smile, that didn¡¯t quite meet his eyes.

    ¡°Members of the council, I stand before you with a proposal that calls for a radical change in our kingdom''s course. It is a proposition rooted in practicality and an eye for the future. As we all are aware, the Empire''s ongoing conflict with the Federation threatens not only the stability of our nation but also the very fabric of our society.¡± He paused, letting those words sink in.

    Casting his gaze across the assembled council, he noted several figures nodding. He knew bribes swayed some, but others shared his perspective, making coercion unnecessary.

    ¡°I have always been a proponent of pragmatic decisions. Faced with blatant warfare, we find ourselves at a crossroads. It is time for Helgos to take control of our own fate and secure the future for our citizens. I propose Helgos reform itself into a council of state, governed by a body of representatives chosen from our most capable and influential minds. This structure will grant us the autonomy we need to protect our interests. We shall secede from the Empire, free ourselves from the clutches of a larger conflict, and finally focus on our own prosperity.¡±

    His proposition was treason, yet despite those words being uttered in the presence of imperial citizens. Not even one of them frowned or opposed those words. Despite the time, they laboured as a vassal state. None of them forget they were the conquered and freedom was a sweet fruit, just out of sight.

    ¡°But a mere council state will not safeguard our realm. We must be prepared to defend our sovereignty. I suggest we use the forces at our disposal, the Mercenary Guild. Their well-trained and discipline along with being quite inexpensive.¡± His quip conferred a few chuckles from the wealthier in attendance.

    Despite nodding heads and an agreeable atmosphere, one person in attendance clearly felt disturbed. Emitting his displeasure, he rose from his seat in protest.

    ¡°This is treason!¡± The noble bellowed. His fury was genuine and no trace of doubt lingered.

    The man was a Helgosian noble, once a lowly house. His fortunes rose when the Empire conquered the kingdom. Thus, he became incredibly loyal to the emperor. The man was a minority, yet he still fervently opposed what he saw as treason.

    ¡°We are subjects of his imperial majesty! If the war with the Federation has begun, we must devote ourselves to defending imperial land.¡± He continued extolling the virtues of the Empire and adamantly opposing any notion of seceding.

    Clearly, he could not read the room, as most, if not all, in attendance were against the Empire. The council cultivated its members over many years, making sure that anti-imperialists would attain positions of authority. Of course, this plan was not without some flaws. Despite the raging noble, claiming the assembled would feel the emperor¡¯s justice. Stillson remained calm, his gaze firmly fixed to the balcony behind the red-faced man.

    ¡°Justice, you say.¡± A calm voice intoned.

    The noble still hopped up on imperial fervour, turned around without thought. This proved foolish as strong, rough hands clutched around his neck. The noble rose in the air and came face to face with a man he didn¡¯t recognise. Of course, everyone in Helgos knew him, commoner and noble alike. That this pro-imperial didn¡¯t was a testament to how out of touch he was.

    ¡°There is no justice, except mine.¡± Leaning close, the face of the Blue Dragon came into focus.

    The last thing the noble saw was the bright blue flash in the centre of his maw. The heat vaporised half of the man¡¯s face. Normally, it would cauterise the wound, but in this case, he kept the heat down. The noble''s head fell off into a pile of blood and gore. Once the deed was done, the Blue Dragon turned his gaze to the assembled, watching them coldly.

    ¡°I think that settles the matter. Next, I would like to propose the formation of a new Guild. We shall call it the Heroic Guild; the Blue Dragon will be its first member.¡± Segueing to a new topic, Stillson ignored the fearful gazes of the less courage.

    Meanwhile, in the wardens¡¯ chambers. The Lord regent of Helgos lay prone and dying on his lavish bed. Clutched in his hands is the Katana he most cherished. Despite the weakness of his body, his will remained strong. Any other man in the same circumstance would completely miss an invisible being.

    Unseen to the naked eye was Maligore, the accursed healer. Preparing his tools to heal the man, he didn¡¯t notice the slight twinge of wakefulness. Before he knew it, a Katana was at his neck.

    Lord Anthos could not see the intruder, but sensed their general presence. So he placed the weapon at hand, to where the enemy''s neck might be.

    ¡°Who are you, intruder?¡± Coughing at a question, his eyes fixed on the space.

    The demon chuckled, finding all this amusing. The act seemed, from his perspective, a child waving a stick. Despite that, he did sense power from the mortal. He knew this human could best him. Of course, only if he was healed and at his peak could he win.

    "I heal you, my child. Normally, I would ask for payment, but the tab is already paid in full."

    ¡°Why would a supposed healer conceal himself from his patient?¡±

    "For the same of your sanity, many have found my visage frightening. So, in my benevolent wisdom, I sometimes seek to spare my patients of any fear."

    ¡°Becoming invisible is a poor method, at least.¡± Rebuking the unseen being, Anthos tensed his muscles.

    ¡°Yes, you have a point there. Perhaps it is best to sedate you.¡±

    Before he could react, a wave of fatigue accosted Anthos. His reflexes took over, his arm guiding the Katana to cleave the being''s head. A faint clang, like two swords meeting, stopped his Katana.

    Maligore, in fact, raised a clawed hand and blocked the weapon. With the strike intercepted, the Lord of Helgos fell into a deep slumber. The demon then caught the weapon and carefully placed it on a stand. He figured that was the weapon''s resting place.

    Once done, his preparations could now begin in earnest. Performing the same procedure, infusing the patient with demonic energy to counteract the poison. Sighing, the demon found the lack of screaming truly a pity. Despite his entire job being about healing the sick and wounded, he could not deny a fondness for the wails of the dying.

    Of course, being a professional, he would never intentionally harm his patient. It was a strange contradiction in his nature. A mixture of professionalism and sadism.

    With the procedure complete, he could finally feel the glorious sensation of healing. He was truly a skilled physician, master of his work. Pride swelling in his chest, he almost missed the sounds of footsteps. Abruptly, the door was flung open and soldiers flooded the room. They were not the house guards.

    ¡°What an interesting turn of events,¡± Maligore muttered under his breath.

    ¡°Take him.¡± One of them said two words, and the rest were called into action.

    Approaching the slumbering man, it was clear they planned to interrupt Maligores'' procedure. As a physician, he couldn''t allow this.

    ¡°I took an oath to heal the sick and injured. To do no harm and give life when fading.¡± An invisible figure spoke to the assembled men.

    ¡°Who said that?¡± the leader spoke, his head twisting from side to side.

    ¡°If you do not seek to harm my patient and interrupt my procedure. Please vacate this room, doctors'' orders.¡±

 Chapter 41 - Secession

    Jasmine sat, contemplating her decisions and future. The act to save her companion was the right one, but to do so, she used heretical methods. It was not as though she viewed them as heretical. She must consider public opinion. Despite all this, she acted in the best interest of saving his life.

    Glancing at the young man obliviously playing his game console. She found his visage a stark contrast to the strange new world. She would never admit it, but his cavalier and childlike attitude grounded her. This fantastical world, reminiscent of the European Middle Ages, with magic thrown in for good measure, confounded her.

    Peter had been a grounding force, a person she could glance at for a moment. He was truly of earth, the typical youngster, obsessed with video games and pop culture. A true patron of earth, in contrast to the new world.

    Moving away from this nonsense, she shifted her focus to more pressing concerns. The existence of a fourth hero complicated matters. Their brief conversation revealed that he was not summoned as a secret fourth elemental hero.

    Based on his statements, he possessed magic well before his arrival in this world. This could only mean there could be other practitioners of magic back on earth. Leaving that notion for another day, she shifted to even more pressing issues. The demonic physician had just left to perform the same procedure on the kingdom''s warden.

    Right on cue, the physician returned, emerging from inky darkness. Only this time, he was not alone. He carried two men, each in one hand. Dragging them unceremoniously across the floor.

    ¡°Greetings, my dear. There has been a little snag.¡± The demon remarked before dumping his baggage.

    ¡°What do you mean, and who are they?¡± Jasmine inquired, stunned.

    Peter looked up from his game, muttered the word cool before lowering his head.

    ¡°Tell the lovely lady what you told me, swine.¡± Thrusting one of the still living men, he prompted him to talk.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt me.¡± The man begged, frightened out of his wits.

    ¡°That is not what I asked. Do you want me to administer some more treatment?¡±

    Reaching into his cloak, Maligore felt around for the proper instrument. The sight caused the captive¡¯s eyes to widen in terror and he quickly poured his heart out. He explained the council had ordered him to seize the warden and his family. He also said that others had been sent to surround the villa and capture the three heroes.

    ¡°This sounds like a coup. Rather bold of them to act immediately after a devastating riot.¡± Jasmine muttered, trying to identify their motive.

    ¡°Peter, we need to leave.¡± She commanded, bringing the boy out of his gaming session.

    ¡°Why?¡± He asked, oblivious to the situation.

    ¡°Because this kingdom is rebelling against the Empire.¡±

    ¡°Really, that¡¯s cool, but why are we leaving? We can fight these dudes?¡± Tilting his head, he shot back a question.

    ¡°Because they have a man that can fly, breath fire and destroy buildings with a punch.¡± Explaining the situation slowly as if to a child, Peter¡¯s eyes widened in realisation.

    ¡°But isn''t he a superhero?¡±

    ¡°Do superheroes burn innocent civilians?¡±

    ¡°Nope, that is supervillain territory.¡± Answering the question, the correct answer dawned on him a second later.

    ¡°We got to bail, don¡¯t we?¡±

    Jasmine nodded, then turned to the demon and inquired if it would help in their escape.

    ¡°I will assist all my patients in reaching a safe place in which they can recover.¡± The demon answered proudly.

    Jasmine nodded and was about to get ready to vacate. Turning back to the demon, who was now leaving through the portal.

    ¡°What about the warden''s family? Can you get them to me?¡±

    Maligore stopped in his tracks, the groaning soldiers clutched in his claws. Twisting his head rather unnaturally, he smiled and nodded.

    ¡°It is a matter of course that a patient''s family visits their ailing family member.¡± With that line, he exited through the portal.

    As the demon exited, she pondered if it was wise to send a demon to kidnap a family. But considering the situation, it seemed the best measure they had available. With her thoughts in order, she told Peter to remain here and wait for the demon to return. The boy saluted sloppily in affirmation with a bright smile.

    Peter watched as Jasmine left, explaining she was gathering the others. Her plan was to make their way as a group to the portal room. He understood and watched her leave. The door shut behind and faint footsteps ebbed away in the distance.

    Sitting back on the couch, he wondered if he should play his game while he waited. He had recently captured a wyvern type and was in the process of levelling him to at least fifty. That was a necessity when challenging the elite six. He could not have a single weak link in his team. Game console in hand, he pondered his options.

    Shaking his head, he put the game away. He was ignoring the situation, playing casually to keep the mounting stress at bay. Trying to act cool when the mere thought of the past sent chills down his spine. His fantastical journey, wielding magic and preparing to be a hero, nearly ended with a single slice of his neck.

    Thankfully, the memories were blurry, but the pain that accompanied them had etched itself into his memory. He shivered, his once quiet emotions charging up for another climax. Playing his game helped, the focus on a single task allowed him to ignore. But with the changing circumstances, he could no longer ignore.

    Seated, he gripped the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric. Body shaking, eyes blinking furiously, still unknown to himself, his pupils widened, turning crimson red. A deadly chill emerged from his fingertips, freezing everything it touched. Over time, the couch froze over, transforming from an ornate place to sit to a throne of ice.

    Calming his racing heart, he leaned back, oddly enjoying the chill feeling. His eyes faded to their normal colour and his back relaxed into the frozen seat. Finally, his calm heart descended to a level he could endure. The serenity was short-lived with the sound of vague voices. Oddly enough, he could hear them as if they were just beside him. Two men whispered through the door, himself the topic of discussion.

    ¡°Come on, the girl has left. This is our chance.¡± A gruff voice intoned.

    ¡°But they are the literal heroes of the empire. Beside they told us to just watch them.¡± Another younger voice answered, pleading with the first.

    ¡°I know, but one of them is on the edge of death. All we need to do is grab the passed-out kid, and I''m sure our superiors will reward us greatly.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It seems risky.¡±

    ¡°Do you want to be a grunt all your life?¡± The older man questioned.

    ¡°No.¡± the younger replied, audibly deflating.

    ¡°Then stop being coward and let''s get in there.¡±

    The finality in the older man''s voice spurned them on. He could hear them reach for the doorhandle. Despite being locked, they opened it with a key. The older man entered first, appearing to a be gruff older guard. Dressed in gambeson, chain mail, and wielded a short sword. His companion, similarly dressed, entered behind him.

    Confused at first, the elder looked at the empty bed. The truth soon dawned on him once he shifted his perceptions to the periphery. A glare shot back at him from the young man seated on a couch encased in ice. The eyes were red and did not seem human at all.

    ¡°Hydro Blast!¡± The boy yelled, raising his palm.

    Instead of the expected gout of pressurised water. A sharp icicle manifested, firing off like a bullet from a gun. Instead of blasting him against the wall with a rush of water. The icicle impaled the man to the wall, puncturing his chest and pinning him down. The clean strike penetrated his heart, ending his life almost immediately.

    The act lasted for only a second, but it felt like an eternity. Peter, who had never killed or even threw a successful punch, just killed his first man. His mind reeling, he barely had time to recognise the act before instinct kicked in. Shifting his gaze to the younger man, he saw he was about to run.

    ¡°No, stop!¡± He commanded, reaching his head out.

    What spewed forth was a spray of ice-cold air, freezing the man like a sculpture. Encased in ice, stuck in a pose of fleeing. His face now permanently displayed his fear and confusion. Not knowing what to do, Peter panicked, shutting the door and slowly pacing back.

    Looking down at his trembling hands, he tried desperately to rationalise what he did. Killing two men, at least by accident. He wondered if that was what he intended. Parsing those thoughts felt unfamiliar and dangerous.

    The sound of tearing broke him out if it is thoughts. Drawing his gaze to the corner, he noted the swirling blackness. The tear in shadow and reality that spoke of a demon''s advent. In truth, it was just Maligore returning. Instead of carrying some soldiers, he arrived with two figures in hand. Both women, one older, blonde-haired and likely in her mid-thirties. The other also blonde seemed to be in her teens.

    Behind him entered a hospital gurney with the recovering warden. Peter, for a moment, wondered where the demon got such an article. It seemed in stark contrast to the medieval world. The demon shambled into the room; the gurney following him. Placing the two women gently to the side, both shoulder to shoulder and sleeping soundly.

    Once his task was complete, he turned to Peter. The pitch-black eyeballs scanned the room. Once his gaze reached the impaled man and his accompanying ice sculpture. The demon smiled, assessing the tableau as if it was art.

    "Love what you have done with the place. Is it a piece of art?" Maligore inquired.

    ¡°What did you do to me?¡± Peter shakily questioned, ignoring whatever the demon had previously uttered.

    ¡°What I did, I administered your treatment.¡± He answered simply, with a light shrug.

    Peter¡¯s shoulders shook, emotion welling up inside as he glared at his own palms. Suddenly, turned away, his glowing red eyes glaring at the demon.

    ¡°What have you done!?¡± He roared indigently, his voice distorting.

    Now face to face with the red-eyed boy, comprehension dawned on the demon. Instead of shying away, he leaned forward, observing every facet. Peter, still fuming, felt an incomprehensible sensation not to attack. It was nothing that could prevent his actions, merely a sense of familiarity.

    Maligore smiled cheekily, manifesting a monocle in one hand. Peering through the ornate eye piece, he seemed to study the boy.

    ¡°Truly fascinating.¡± He muttered.

    ¡°I had known there were side effects to the treatment. But they were always so negligible it didn¡¯t really matter. The patient survived, and that¡¯s all that matter to them. Sure, a few had some mutations, but nothing as obvious as this.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°What side effects?¡± Peter asked, somehow calming himself.

    ¡°The procedure adapts the mortal form to the infernal. Injecting the body, a diluted form of infernal energy. You can consider it a vaccine of sorts, but to a higher yield. It does not remove the disease, merely allows you to endure it.¡±

    His explanation seemed like gibberish to Peter. Harping on about vaccines and infernal energy, he wanted the demon to speak plainly. Before he can chastise the demonic Riddler, the demon spoke again.

    ¡°I can see that you don¡¯t understand. That¡¯s fine, honestly this is a surprise to me. But in simple terms, you have somehow gained an equilibrium with the spirit and the infernal. I suspect it is likely because of your unique situation as a summoned being, imbued with spiritual might and tainted with devil''s blood.¡±

    Putting away the monocle, the demon folded his arms and waited.

    ¡°Are you saying I''m part demon now?¡± The question came out calmer than he would have expected.

    Peter found the situation strange, if he was honest. He once thought of gaining demonic powers as being cool. Yet the reality only left him afraid and uncertain. Fantasy should never be reality, despite how much an immature mind craves it. That thought ran through his head, but the reality was something he needed to face.

    ¡°Part demon is not entirely accurate. You are no cambion of birth. But I''d say you are very close to that description.¡± The demon explained, tilting his head.

    The concept slowly dawned on him. He was part demon, no matter what video game or novel he read. This was usually not a good thing. Either by demons being evil or simply viewed as evil by everyone else.

    ¡°Will I turn evil or grow horns?¡± He asked in desperation.

    ¡°I can''t say whether you will grow horns. But evil, such morality doesn¡¯t apply to us internals. We reject such labels.¡±

    The demon looked affronted by the question. It made Peter feel slightly bad about suggesting it. Concepts of good and evil were far too arbitrary for real life. Such black and white notions existed only in fantastical stories that required a clear definition of protagonists and antagonists. Peter honestly preferred stories that broke the mould.

    ¡°Sorry, mister demon, I didn''t mean to suggest all demons are evil. I just want to know what will happen to me, that¡¯s all.¡± He remarked sincerely.

    Maligore nodded in understanding, not that he was unaware of his people¡¯s infernal reputation. Very few dimensions looked kindly on them.

    ¡°Please call me Maligore or Mal for short. I understand your concern. We demons have a poor reputation, mainly because of the demon lords that invade the mortal realms.¡±

    ¡°Demon Lords?¡± Peter asked, noting the familiar term.

    Stories used the term to refer to a demon who was part of a kingdom''s aristocracy. Or the more common setup was the convenient enemy of a fantasy world, bent to destroying or conquering.

    ¡°A bunch of ruffian warlords and invaders. They are of low birth and seek fame, fortune or land upon the mortal realms.¡± His explanation denoted a slight disdain for such demons.

    ¡°But despite my dislike of the practice, they certainly are my best clients and patients.¡± Ending his words with a deeply unsettling, cackling laugh.

    The demon in that moment reminded Peter of the wicked witch, only far more terrifying.

    ¡°Let me get these straight. Demon lords are basically demonic Vikings that invade. Wait, a second, what are the mortal realms exactly?¡±

    ¡°Seriously, you mortals are so uneducated. Though I¡¯ve never heard of the term viking. The demon lords are essentially war band invaders for plunder and land. The mortal realms are the various universes where mortals live.¡±

    His words, heavy with meaning, crashed down. The multiverse was a real thing. The concept of that was staggering and should have been obvious. Peter understood that someone had summoned him to a fantasy world. But to think more universes existed.

    Stuck in his pondering, he nearly forgot about his act of murder. Turning back to the sight of his sin. He was aghast with the sudden absence of corpses. Not a trace if their bodies remained.

    Looking back at the demon, Maligore shrugged with a cheeky smile.

    ¡°I saw the bodies were disturbing you. So I got rid of them. Us internals should stick together, hey brother.¡± Maligore spoke reassuringly, placing a clawed arm on Peter''s shoulder.

    The young man was nowhere near reassured, but still tried to claim a strong face. Yet he found the lack of fear around such a terrifying demon quite disturbing. It felt like all his expected instincts when face to face with a literal demon, where gone.

    The clawed monstrosity was oddly pleasant to converse with. He was not sure if it was the demon''s manner of speech or the change within him.

    Before he could go deeper into this strange situation. The door abruptly opened. Wincing at the entry, Peter swiftly turned, expecting an enemy. His hands emitted chilled air, ready to unleash another blast of cold.

    Upon witnessing who was entering, he dropped his guard. It was Jasmine accompanied by Lucy and the others. The moment they entered, only Jasmine and Lucy reacted to a demon. Jasmine merely turned back to reassure the imperials. Each of them grew stiff, their eyes fixed on the aloof being of pure evil. Their hands glided slowly to their respective weapons. Long sword, rapier and wand were all within reach. Lucy had the oddest of reactions.

    ¡°Pretty,¡± she squeaked, pointing at the demon.

    The rest looked down at the excited girl, every single one of them thoroughly confused. In fact, all of them were stunned by the silence. It was the demon, however, that ended such a situation.

    ¡°Why thank you a little one. I have always taken pride in my appearance.¡± He said with a theatrical flourish of his claws.

    ¡°The fire around you, such a pretty colour.¡± Lucy added.

    The rest looked even more perplexed. Suddenly, the demon''s presence wasn¡¯t important. Now they were trying to fathom what the little girl was saying.

    ¡°Oh, you can see the Flames of Infernum, I am impressed little one. Most mortals could barely pierce the veil of our true nature.¡±

    Unknown to the rest, Lucy could, in fact, see all forms of heat and fire. Even the flames of the soul or whatever the demon had instead. To her, most people had an aura of around them. Some brighter, some dimmer. But every single one had similar colours ranging from yellow to red. Yet this demon¡¯s inner fire was maroon, a favourite of Lucy¡¯s.

    The little girl''s childlike statement cast a bucket of water on this tense moment. The lull allowed Jasmine to cut in before anything untoward occurred.

    ¡°This is Maligore and yes, he is a demon. I summoned him and I shall take responsibility should he harm anyone.¡± She stated her position firmly, with a stiff upper lip and serious composure.

    The three turned their gazes away from the demon and looked even more perplexed at Jasmine. She stared them down, not for a second breaking eye contact. Eventually, one opted out of the staring contest, shaking her head.

    ¡°To summon a demon is dangerous. Not only is it against imperial law, but the Temple of Fire. considers it heresy.¡± Elisara firmly stated, crossing her arms and staring her down sternly.

    "Peter was dying, and I chose the practical option. Besides, I''m not an Empire citizen, and from another perspective, they''d consider me a kidnapping victim." Jasmine shot back.

    The witch cringed at the rebuke, turning down her gaze in shame. She herself was involved in the ritual to summon the heroic trinity. She thought it an honour, but this young girl made her see it in a different light. If it wasn¡¯t for Jasmine¡¯s cooperation, the Empire would be kidnappers holding the citizen of another realm hostage.

    ¡°But demons are dangerous, irrelevant to whatever the fire worshippers say.¡± Halmar cut in, keeping his eye on the demon.

    ¡°This situation is irrelevant; we need to leave this city. Helgos is rebelling. We can either stay and become a political hostage or escape back to imperial lands.¡± Shutting down her guardian, she stated the situation bluntly.

    Her words became a sobering thought, and they settled the matter about the demon for now. Huddling together, they mapped out the plan to escape. With the incapacitated members, such as the warden and his family. Frederik would carry them the strongest here. The warden would stay on his gurney, Maligore agreed to loan it for the time being.

    The demon would accompany but leave once they entered the portal. Seeing no other option but to let the demon loose, considering no one wanted a battle to break out with an unknown threat. The plan took form and was relatively simple. They would quickly make their way to the portal room, eliminate all obstacles and vacate to the Empire.

    Elisara pulled Jasmine aside. The rest of the group readied themselves to leave, huddled together to go over the plan.

    ¡°How did you summon a demon? Such methods are unknown to me.¡±

    ¡°I have my ways.¡± She answered, setting up a silence that broached no further questions.

    ¡°Fine, keep your secrets. But we will have to talk later, when we''re back in Judica.¡±

    The two parted, casting suspicious glances at each other. The two regrouped with the rest before heading out and making their way to the portal room. Passing down several corridors, they could avoid the patrols with Halmar¡¯s familiar. The wind spirit scouting every route and reporting back to his partner.

    ¡°Two guards posted at the door.¡± Halmar explained, his head titled at an angle. For the magically inclined, they could see a faint trace of unnatural wind hovering over his ear.

    ¡°So, few guards, that¡¯s strange.¡± Frederik wondered.

    ¡°It¡¯s possible they haven''t got full control over their forces.¡± Elisara added.

    Watching the guards from the corner, the notice one of them tilt his head to the side. It was an act like Halmar listening to his familiar. After a few seconds, the guards turned to glare down the corridor. Spotting their group and revealing they were not just simple guards. Brandishing staves, they revealed themselves as battle wizards, a class of magic casters tailored for combat.

    One of them thrust forth his staff. What emerged was a maelstrom of force. As the kinetic energy travelled down and impacted Halmar, the corridor shook. The force sent the fencer flying into the nearby wall. Standing shoulder to shoulder, the two battle wizards guarded the corridor. The other one that had yet to act raised his staff, casting a barrier.

    A shimmering force field sprang into existence, blocking the entrance. The group, stunned at this show of power, didn¡¯t realise Peter breaking away. Jumping out into the corridor, he glared down at the two wizards. The sight of a young boy opposing them caused them to chuckle with laughter. Clearly not seeing him as a threat, despite knowing his identity.

    Thrusting his palms out, Peter aimed them at the floor and sprayed the ground with sub-zero temperatures. The ground froze over, bypassing the wizard''s shield. Once the frozen land made its way to them, the two comically slipped and fell.

    Dropping their staves and losing their focus. The shield winked out of existence. Peter launched into action, guided by pure impulse. Every step turned the ice into a water vapour. Reaching his foes, he froze them to the ground, trapping their limbs and keeping their staves out of reach.

    Towering above them, the young man morphed into the eyes of his victims. With their wizard''s sight, they saw considerably more than any mortal man. It wasn¡¯t the gleam in his shining red eyes nor the overwhelming aura of his patron spirit. It was the faint traces of the infernal that caused such fear.

    Every Helgosian wizard feared the infernal. Despite the practice being common in the past. Demons were still fearsome beings of fire and wrath. Only the bravest and wisest of practitioners could contend with them.

    These two wizards were not ignorant of the ways of diabolists. In fact, they had summoned minor demons in the past, flouting imperial law. But despite their experience, they were terrified by the sight of a being possessed by both the holy spirit and the devil''s touch.

    The two wailed and screamed as if Peter was the devil in human form. Disturbed by their act of pure terror, Peter stepped back. His face stretched into a wild and fearful expression. Despite this, he still had the mental fortitude to notice the shadow slip by his periphery.

    Maligore manifested beside the two wailing men. Like an angel of death, he slipped a syringe into each of their necks. The two fell limp after only a few seconds.

    ¡°You killed them!¡± The voice of Frederik rebounded from behind.

    The demon turned to the knight, affronted by the insinuation. Placing the syringes in his lapel, he vanished, only to appear in front of the knight. Frederik reacted by reaching for his sword, but stayed his hand.

    ¡°I did no such thing. I am a doctor. These two men are merely sleeping. They were in distress and required a skilled medical professional.¡± The devilish physician explained.

    ¡°I shall suggest some bed rest and a psychological evaluation.¡± He stated with finality, as if the patients could listen.

    Jasmine decided at that point to cut in, printing the group to continue. They did so and soon entered the portal room. Within the faintly humming arch was, of course, absent the imperial guards. The patches of blood painting the walls explained precisely why they were absent.

    The group ignored the obvious bloodshed. Instead, Elisara went to work activating the portal. The thrumming grew louder and arcane symbols lit up. It was only a matter of time before the portal will open. Heavy footsteps approaching the door dashed their hopes.

    ¡°The Blue Dragon, save us!¡± one guard pleaded.

    He received no response. Only Jasmine and her group shivered in fear. They didn¡¯t have time to be afraid as the sound of wood bending inwards and the sensation of heat quickly arrived. Someone was twisting the door into blackened and charred bits.

    Jumping into action, still pumped up from the adrenaline surge, Peter approached the door. Raising his palms, he encased the entire entrance to ice. This barely halted the progressive obliteration of the door. Despite that, he continued to release sub-zero temperatures. The heat was overwhelming, and the signs of fatigue were clear as Peter strained to keep up his defence.

    Elisara kept to her task, trying to navigate the complex spell work normally performed by several wizards. When it was clear, they would likely not hold out. The rest setup a defensive line, just in case the enemy broke through. From what they learned about this foe, they weren''t confident of victory. The memories of how he shrugged off Jasmine¡¯s enhanced punch were fresh in her mind.

    On the other side of the door was the dragon himself, slowly getting frustrated. He had ignored the whining insect below his feet and was intent on rendering the door to cinders. Despite his best efforts, someone was resisting. The faint traces of glacial formations told him that likely the champion of water was resisting. The tiny lump of a boy wielding such power surprised him. Increasing the intensity of heat, his fire breath went from yellow to light blue. The plasma slowly eroded the pathetic excuse of an ice wall.

    Finally giving up, he was at his limit of patience. Closing his mouth, he angrily approached the ice wall. Raising his fist, he pulled his arm back and readied to obliterate the makeshift barricade. The blow landed and impacted with explosive power, shattering the ice effortlessly. The debris fell upon the two guards, splattering their exposed heads.

    Ignoring the deaths, he nonchalantly walked into the portal room. Instead of finding his quarry, he found an empty room and the arch powering down after use. Grinding his teeth, he stamped down the impulse to destroy the offending construct.

    Almost an hour later, people cleared the portal room and new figures filled the space. Mr Stillson, who was now known as Chancellor Stillson, stood with his arms behind his back, gazing at the arch. The portal was being tended to by a legion of wizards. They poked and prodded the artefact, attempting to disable it.

    A figure moved up beside the chancellor and spoke.

    ¡°The empire''s champions have escaped to the imperial capital.¡±

    Stillson barely budged from his position as he replied.

    ¡°I am aware, but it¡¯s not much of a loss. Having hostages gives us a slight edge in negotiation. But keeping such volatile assets in the city would prove hazardous.¡±

    ¡°But what of the council? Many were expecting us to have cards to play in the secession.¡±

    ¡°They will have it; they need only make a request of the guild.¡± Stillson stated with finality.

    The adjutant nodded in understanding.

    ¡°I shall make the preparations for the request. There are a few documents you must sign, but the formal establishment of the Heroic Guild is near completion.¡±

    ¡°Good. Oh, by the way, did the council decide what they are calling this new nation of theirs?¡± Stillson asked.

    ¡°They did indeed, sir. The Helgosian Council State.¡±

 Chapter 42 - Shifting Tides of War

    Far from the domain of Helgos, across the border into hostile lands, lies the realm of the beastmen. The United Realms of Lankos, a Confederacy of several beastmen realms. Initially, they were a squabbling domain of Demi-humans divided by racial differences.

    It wasn¡¯t until the great war against the advancing holy empire if Judica, did the disparate Nation states unite. R social boundaries fell as a far greater threat emerged. Humanity was the great expansionist that sought to claim the sacred lands of their ancestors.

    The greedy race sought to defile the land with their spirit faith. The corrupting force that was the spirits was antithetical to their way of life. For beings not of this world to twist the fabric of nature. It was the greatest of sins.

    This could have been forgiven, since the beastmen had forged peace with creatures from other worlds. The demons of Demonus were one such extra-dimensions species they had come to an understanding with.

    This understanding was more akin to mutual respect. The beastmen before unification had a primitive cultural mindset. At least, that''s how an outsider would view it. They believed in the principles of social Darwinism: the strong thrive while the weak perish.

    Naturally, this perspective evolved post-unification. But the basic tenets were still there. Demons in fact believed in a similar viewpoint with one minor difference. They saw other races as part of a grand scheme of life and all should serve in their own way. The strong should flourish while the weak serve.

    This perspective existed rather counter to their cooperative ideology that made up the federation. Yet despite their ruthless viewpoints, the Federation of Demonus grew to become a major nation weaved together by a myriad of complex treaties.

    The ways of the demon meant little to the Lankosians. Only the respect Demonus had for their ways led to their membership status. The unified nation of beastmen became a valued member of the Federation. Becoming a buffer state against the predations of the Empire. The general view of imperials was rather poor, yet the beastmen held no major prejudice against humans. Most humans would largely disregard an odd turn of events.

    Imperials held nothing but animosity towards the beastmen, and in return, they received hostility. Yet a contradiction held with Lankos'' amicable relationship with the Wizard State of Ikarus. The wizardly realm held the largest population of humans in the eastern lands. Despite this lack of xenophobia amongst the citizens of Lankos. They still held an aversion to the ways of humanity and their desires to force their so-called civilised realm upon them.

    It was this crux that led to the decades long hostility that was now coming to a head. Reports of instability in the Empire, emboldening the Lankosian warlords, had finally encouraged them to stake a claim on their ancestral lands. The beastmen sent the claim in their typical way. The beastmen sent an emissary force to the border with all pomp and ceremony to deliver the ultimatum.

    Standing at the border of the western lands. A small force of beastmen made camp. The species that comprised the camp were of many types. Post unification saw the integration of complimentary species into a standing army.

    The combination of various races saw the development of new tactics in warfare. Yet despite the integration, their military leaned into infantry. Further developments were ongoing, but for now, they were better suited for this.

    ¡°Is this not unwise, my general?¡± A lupine beastmen asked.

    People knew the being as a wolf-kin, a descendant of a proud and powerful race known only as the Children of the Moon. It is said their ancestors could become monstrously powerful when the moon was full. Lankosian soldiers outfitted the lupine soldier with the typical Lankosian military garb.

    Gone were the days of animal hides and fur armour. Now the Lankosian military wore a leather gambeson with a steel plate. The investment of the Federation afforded such luxury. It took a while for the beastmen to get accustomed to the restricting armour. They made many modifications, but ultimately transformed the beastmen into a fearsome force.

    The wolf-kin didn¡¯t receive a reply from his superior and so he remained in silence. It was their typical interactions. His General went into deep thought. The being that stood at the head of the camp was massive, casting his piercing gaze at the human fortifications.

    He was not of the wolf-kin. In fact, he was from an obscure species that existed far south. They resembled bipedal boars and were violent and hostile to outsiders. Territorial by nature, something the wolf-kin could understand and respect. They were the last species to join the united realms. Mainly because they didn¡¯t even understand the concept of surrender.

    In fact, his species known as the realms did not subjugate Boar-kin. They instead joined after fathoming the heights their people would rise. That was years ago and so they had become effective soldiers in the united army. Contrary to their martial skills, this Boar-kin excelled in feats of the mind.

    ¡°War is always unwise, but if it has to be done, we must ensure we do it right.¡±

    The wolf-kin had been his adjutant for three years and he always found his superior''s perspective on war rather strange. He figured it was because of his species. They were defensive by nature and were skilled at defending against enemy sieges.

    ¡°But the last battle with the Empire left many dead, and the lands scorched by magic.¡±

    ¡°We always address that distinction, Lieutenant Sigyn, not their magic.¡±

    Sigyn pondered the words. Yet all he could come up with were the horrific memories of past battles. The humans, known as the paladins of fire, burning whole cohorts to cinders. Being a survivor of such a battle and claiming a few kills had led to his promotion. He never understood why the mighty General Grey-Tusk would take him under his wing.

    ¡°But they can throw fire just as easily as a volley of arrows.¡±

    ¡°There is a difference between having power and wielding it. You should have read the reports I gave you.¡±

    The General''s word sounded like admonishment, but thinking it over, it held the scent of a teacher. Grey-Tusk all thought hailed from a clan of primitives, by the standard of the realms. He still rose to prominence for his intellect despite those that looked down on their race.

    ¡°You know I¡¯m no good at all that reading and analysing.¡±

    ¡°It is not a matter of skill; it is a matter of discipline.¡± Grey-Tusk added sternly.

    ¡°But I prefer it when you explain. You are so much better at words.¡±

    ¡°Fine then, let us start with the magic of the Empire. We have time until the emissaries return.¡± He said, shifting to face the young lieutenant.

    ¡°Yes General.¡± Sigyn saluted.

    ¡°What you call Paladins are, in fact, humans that borrow the power of the spirits. They are akin to the warlocks of old, that summoned demons to bargain with.¡± Grey-Tusk explained.

    ¡°Warlocks, I have not heard of such a thing.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, before your time, young one. They were community humans and beastmen that worshipped demons, doing their bidding for power.¡±

    The General scratched his whiskers while the young officers were deep in thought. His tusks required some maintenance, and he wondered if the enemy would draw out the negotiations.

    ¡°Does that mean the spirits and demons are similar?¡± Sigyn asked casually.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t let the diabolists hear you say that. But you are on the right track.¡± A faint smile crossed the boar man.

    "The similarities are obvious when you think about it. Both demons and the spirits interact with us lowly mortals the same way. They both promote dependance on their power and animosity against the other. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they started this war."Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Surely you jest. This is a righteous war to reclaim the fatherland.¡± He added with the fervour of a staunch believer.

    ¡°The fatherland, you say, while I agree, we can trace the origins of several species to the western plains. Many of the united realms originated elsewhere. In fact, I would wager a set of mithril armour that the humans will claim ancestry from the plains as well.¡± The General explained with a smirk.

    The young lieutenant frowned. The desire to strike back against that statement warred with his respect for the General. It was difficult for the young lupine to hear these words. The united realms raised the young lieutenant, along with many other young beastmen and women. Their ideology instilled in them a belief in the importance of land, ancestry, and respect for the traditions of its diverse races.

    The Boar-kin were, of course, practical creatures and dealt with situations without pomp and ceremony. It made most of the other races look down on them. How can you respect a race without tradition, honour or a sense of duty? That was one of the many questions posed against their admittance. Yet, the realms still accepted them and granted them full citizenship.

    "You don¡¯t have to think too hard on the issue, young one. If you take away all the politicking and face the facts. It becomes less about who hailed from where. You should know that in war, what matters most is what can be held and what can be lost."

    Sigyn calmed his nerves, trying to digest the words of the man he respected. It was difficult, but he could understand the practicality behind it.

    ¡°Think of my words when you have the time. Perhaps they shall put things into perspective.¡± He gestured to calm his anxious subordinate.

    ¡°We have other matters to consider.¡±

    Turning away, he cast his gaze upon the table before them. It was a simple wooden table with a map, blocks of wood spread across the field, and a strange dagger made of glass. Picking up the weapon, he gestured its figure to Sigyn.

    ¡°What do you make of this weapon?¡± He asked, presenting the pristine blade.

    ¡°It looks fragile, like it could break easily.¡±

    Someone abruptly placed the blade in the young man''s hand. Gripping it tightly, the soldiers'' eyes widened. The reaction seemed like what the General would have expected. He had the same reaction when he first wielded the weapon. Despite its glass life visage, it had the weight and durability of steel.

    Their benefactor gifted them the weapons. The northern nation is strange. The Wizard State of Ikarus. Something about the shipment struck the General as odd. The wizard nation had always been neutral in this conflict. But they had put their support forward.

    ¡°These weapons are from Ikarus. Apparently, they can contend with the spirits.¡± He explained.

    His subordinate''s face, slowly registering awe, revealed the significance of such a weapon. People considered the spirits to be the greatest enemies of all beastmen. The corruptive force would infiltrate all facets of the natural world, bending it to the will of humanity.

    Many druids and rangers saw this as heresy, while the typical beastmen recalled how they had torched their brothers with fireballs. The negative opinions surrounding the spirits made them seem suspicious on this side of the border. The discovery of weapons that could fight these monstrous beings was a boon to the army.

    ¡°We''ve distributed the shipment. We have large stores of arrows, short swords, and daggers.¡± He explained.

    His adjutant nodded, pleased at the support the army had gained. It was quite the boon for the forces and he couldn¡¯t wait for the Empire to feel their wrath. Grey-Tusk saw the gleam in his subordinate eyes. The craving for blood and battle was typical for their people. So he didn¡¯t admonish the boy, still he found the concept irritating.

    ¡°Is this all we are?¡± He whispered to himself.

    The silent question claimed no answer, only the sound of soldiers marching and the anticipation of battle.

    Far from the borderlands, in the royal capital of the Tarkonian Kingdom. A stone-faced sovereign sat upon a gilded throne, receiving news from his vassals. Wine goblet in hand, his queen at his side. The monarch exuded wealth and prestige in everything he did. Despite all that, the clear rippling muscle and militaristic attire showcased him as a martial king.

    Being around forty years old, dark brown hair and a chiselled square-jawed face. He appeared what you would expect to be a warrior king. His light blue eyes seemed vibrant and confused by everyone that met the man. They appeared to be kind, beautiful eyes, while the rest of him looked to be the personification of violence.

    The queen beside him was not beautiful by the typical measure. She appeared far more conservative, with little interest in flaunting fashion or beauty. Dressed in a simple violet gown, she sat upon her throne with a meek smile, the blonde curls of her hair cascading down. Her dark green eyes cast upon the procession, analysing everything she saw.

    The two figures were the prospective monarchs of the Tarkonian royal family. Absolute sovereigns over the Great Kingdom of Tarkon. At least that¡¯s how they styled themselves to the masses. To be fair, the kingdom had endured far longer than most civilisations, predating the Empire by a century. It was a true oddity for a land so steeped in magic, for a nation of martial prowess to prosper.

    The kingdom had reigned in the western lands for over six hundred years. Founded after the fall of the vampire overlords. This martial kingdom claimed the southwestern lands of Hestia. Its cities and fortresses were unique, as they had kept much of the structures built by vampiric hands. A thousand years ago, vampire lords ruled the land. The night masters raised powerful fortresses made from mysterious stone resistant to heat and siege weaponry.

    These impregnable lands became the base for the kingdom''s power. Despite the defensive capabilities of the nation, they were not an all-powerful country. They lacked an effective industry for magic in civilian and military use. The martial nature leaned most towards the way of the sword. Wizards were a rarity and realms imported magic, such as Helgos.

    Another major facet of the realm was the staunch embrace of religion. The kingdom recognised and respected the Paladins of Pyrus as a pillar. Temples of fire and earth dotted the realm. The worship of the fire spirit was the largest contingent of faithful. While artisans to the earth, the spirit became the bulk of industrial workers.

    The spread of the temple''s influence was largely because of the king''s devout fervour. The man was a loyal follower of Pyrus and a veteran paladin of the order. Nobles of the past opposed their king''s induction into the temples. Such voices of dissonance were easily silenced.

    ¡°Your majesty, reports have come in.¡± A well-dressed advisor approached the throne, clipboard in hand.

    ¡°Speak.¡± The king replied with a single word.

    ¡°Lankosian emissaries have delivered the declaration of war. Their casus belli are the claims over the eastern plains. We have delivered your refusal, and they have acted as expected.¡±

    ¡°So, it is to be war, then.¡± The king stated with a smile.

    Rising from his throne, sword once leaning to the side, now clutched in waiting hands. He stood regal and powerfully built. Casting his gaze over the assembled nobility, each of them were border noble. The court highly respected militaristic families. War and conflict were so common that peaceful rulers were a hindrance.

    ¡°Do you really have to go, dear husband? Can¡¯t you send one of your General¡¯s?¡± The queen inquired, her prim and proper manner stressed her noble birth.

    ¡°How many are the enemy?¡± The king asked his advisor.

    ¡°We have sent ten legions, twice as many as last time.¡±

    The king nodded, turning back to his queen, giving her a knowing smile.

    ¡°Does that answer your question?¡±

    Shaking her head as the facts were irrefutable, she leaned back in tired acceptance.

    ¡°Fine then, just don¡¯t get yourself killed. Being a widow would be tiresome.¡±

    ¡°You will do fine without me. I''m sure you will find some strapping young lad to twist around your exquisite finger.¡± The king added with a smirk.

    ¡°My dear Andrei, I wouldn¡¯t dare replace you with some young fop.¡±

    ¡°I know, but select someone appropriate, just not my brother. Anyone but him, my darling.¡± He stated firmly.

    ¡°Why not darling, it would be appropriate to keep the royal line intact.¡±

    "Out of the question, besides we don¡¯t even know where that boy is. Last I heard, that mercenary crew was gallivanting with him."

    Even though the reigning monarch, King Andrei Tarkon spoke of his younger brother with disdain. The thought of the open road, sword at his side, and adventure always made him smile. It was something his little brother could indulge in, but not himself. He had the responsibility of the kingship and the duty to defend the land from savages.

    Just as he was about to lead on and take to the field of battle, a figure entered the throne room. Normally, this would be the height of disrespect, but the man''s countenance revealed him to be an emissary of the crown. The emperor''s messenger had the authority to interrupt the court of his kingly vassals. The well-dressed fop entered, bowed to the king and handed a scroll to his advisor.

    With no pomp or ceremony, the messenger left. Andrei knows what this meant. The emperor only sent messengers for two reasons. When the Empire was under threat, or his majesty was sending an imperial order. The advisor opened the scroll, read its contents, and paled.

    "Well, what is it?" demanded the king.

    ¡°The Kingdom of Helgos has rebelled and declared independence from the Empire.¡± Those weighty words set the entire court to silence.

    Only the king remained immune, his chuckling laughter bellowed throughout the throne room. The king jovially laughed, as if the notion of a war on two fronts was the funniest thing he has ever heard.

    ¡°Helgos, I didn¡¯t think they would have the balls.¡±

    Disturbed, the rest of the room didn¡¯t share in the king''s joy. He didn¡¯t care, they rarely understood his humour. Still, he understood the stakes and with the invasion and now a rebellion. The situation was getting very interesting.

    ¡°I assume his majesty has sent summons?¡±

    The messages nodded and directed the monarch to the palace portal. King Andrei kissed his queen and left for the portal room. The network of magical gates that linked capitols of each kingdom was a peculiar thing. History records the ancient realm of Upire as having built it.

    The nation that once spanned the entire continent and brought all races to heel. The ruler of the vampire overlords was a time when humanity was on its knees. But no longer, humanity had grown strong under the benevolent guidance of the spirits.

    The Temples had been a pillar of strength and unity in the empire. The emperors of old knew this, heeded their wisdom and humanity prospered. As of late, the spirit faith and become less involved in secular matters. Past emperors would have considered these unions heresy, and they have thinned the imperial bloodline. The more the empire tried to compromise, the more they strayed from the faith.

    "Savages at our doorsteps heathens out our backs. I foresee a great resurgence of the faith. We shall inscribe lessons learned in blood."

 Chapter 43 - War and Heresy

    The soft thrum of the portal slowly wound down. The King of Tarkon exited the arch with his knights in toe. It was a familiar sight, the portal of the palace. The portal system spanned the breadth of the Empire and was under the direct administration of his imperial majesty. Every corner of the Empire was within reach and Andrei¡¯s own kingdom was no exception.

    The monarch made his way to the throne room, palming off several soft handed imperial functionaries. Most realised the martial king was not a fan of the imperial capital. Warfare raised his family, and even the royal family had to learn combat. The difference between the rest of the Empire and Tarkon was how the king lead.

    The martial king led from the front, while the others lead from the back. Not that he didn¡¯t understand their perspective. The life of a ruler was paramount, but how could want many remain loyal when their sovereign was safe and cosy in his palace?

    This difference led to a vast difference in culture between Tarkon and the rest of the Empire. While Tarkon was less efficient regarding administrative work, their military was far superior. The nobles also received far greater loyalty from the populace. Some have said that their loyalty lies with the king, rather than the emperor. Of course, fools spoke these sentiments in private or openly.

    Arriving in the throne room, Andrei barely acknowledged the rest of the court and simply knelt to his liege. His own knights did so as well, waiting for the emperor to grant them leave to rise. He did so, and the Tarkonian king took the assembled room into view.

    The sight of the Emperor, seated upon his throne, regal as ever. To his left and right were the respective imperial court members. The Imperial Court Wizard and strangely the Grandmaster of the Paladin Order of Pyrus. He respected the warrior, but rarely saw him at court.

    The man was tall, broad shouldered and had an air of a seasoned warrior. The grey hair and lines on his face showcased the wear and tear of time. Despite all that, his calm, predatory brown eyes quietly observed the world. He was a veteran of many battles against heretics, monsters, and demonic forces. Lord Pyrus''s favour blessed the Paladin, making him the best of the best.

    Casting his gaze around, he noticed another set of people that caused his heart to skip a beat. The three youngsters, barely out of their teens, stood to the side. They didn¡¯t seem like much to the untrained eye. But to those of the faith, he could sense the immense power invested within them. It made him shiver to be in their presence and envious of the grace given upon them.

    ¡°King Tarkon.¡± The emperor greeted with a slight bow.

    ¡°Blessed Emperor,¡± Andrei replied with a slightly lower bow.

    ¡°Have you heard the reports?¡± The emperor asked.

    ¡°Yes, your majesty, the Lankosians are on our border and diplomacy has failed. I was planning the defence when word of the rebellion came to me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, dire news on two fronts.¡±

    While the solemn atmosphere descended, a paladin stepped forward. Knelt to the emperor, waiting on leave to rise. The monarch gestured for him to do so, and the stern face of a holy warrior met his liege.

    ¡°Blessed Emperor, if I am might add. The circumstances of these two threats are suspect. It is likely the Lankosian invaders are colluding with the Helgosian heretics.¡± While making his accusation, the paladin glanced at the imperial court wizard.

    Anyone with any sense knew of the rivalry between the two factions. The Paladin order had always kept the faith and expounded on the purity of spirit magic. Many saw wizardry as unclean, despite the emperor''s legalization with many restrictions.

    Andrei had no prejudice against wizards. Sure, they had colluded with the unclean in the past. But that was the heretics. Being a wizard doesn¡¯t make you a heretic. Turning from the faith was the true heresy. In fact, he had a few wizards of the faith in his kingdom.

    The rebellion of Helgos was lamentable but expected. They were far too divergent from imperial culture. Despite the emperor''s attempts to integrate them and the general acceptance of wizards in his own kingdom. The Helgosians would never truly kneel.

    He could understand that being the former scions of a great and powerful wizard kingdom. Being denigrated to a mere vassal likely hurt their pride. The contradiction in his own thoughts aside, since he himself bowed to imperial might.

    His satisfaction depended on the Empire''s continued loyalty. That was the crux of the situation. Over the years, the emperor was turning from the patron spirits. Allowing secular policies to overrule the wisdom of superior beings.

    ¡°We do not know that for certain. It would be best if we approached the situation diplomatically.¡± The emperor added, trying to maintain a stern expression.

    ¡°If I might add, your majesty, perhaps a show of strength is preferable. The Paladin order mobilising would send a simple message.¡± Andrei interjected.

    Seemingly in response to his words, the paladin''s pride swelled. The emperor took a moment to mull over his words. The suggestion made sense, and he had not overtly impressed the might of the Empire on Helgos in his entire reign. He wanted his rule to be far more peaceful than the chaos bearing down on him.

    Shifting his gaze to the heroic trinity, the emperor recalled their report. He was not ignorant to dangerous being known only as the Blue Dragon. But surely one man could not contend with an entire paladin legion.

    ¡°I understand and agree. Send the paladin legion to impress upon Helgos the folly of rebellion.¡± Rising to his feet, he let loose his imperial command.

    In emperor''s past, this was an absolute order that all would obey. To the king of Tarkon, it sounded more like a suggestion. Regardless of his own feelings, the paladin jumped on the chance to burn heretics. His faith was strong, a little too strong in Andrei¡¯s opinion.

    The patron spirits had the use of the exceptional, but it always confounded him why Pyrus allowed sycophants. He supposed zealots had their uses. He wondered if this was the last he would ever see that smug face again.

    ¡°About the Lankosian¡¯s?¡± Andrei shifted the topic just as the paladin bowed and left the throne room.

    The paladin left like he was a man on a mission. He supposed he was nothing better for a man''s pride than to kill his enemies. Whether they are his enemies seems like a secondary thought.

    ¡°Yes, the defence is important. But with this state of affairs, it is best to maintain defensive lines. Overextending our military with a potential enemy to the north is unwise.¡± The emperor explained.

    He was not wrong, that much Andrei understood. It was best not to commit too much to one enemy when another lingers. Fighting on two fronts is never a sound strategy. Of course, explaining this to the men would be difficult. They would only see the emperor cleaving them from the herd.

    ¡°How long must we remain on the defensive?¡± Andrei asked, a slight tinge of anger seeping into his voice.

    It was uncertain if the emperor noticed his vassal¡¯s displeasure. Andrei had always been a stoic man, never letting his feelings breach the surface.

    ¡°Until we neutralize the rebellion and send relief forces from the capital.¡±

    In truth, his decision was sound. Sending forces from the imperial interior would diminish the defensive strength of the lands directly administered by the emperor. If this rebellion escalated, they would see armies of wizards descending to the capital.

    The power Helgos wielded had not diminished enough for the Empire to relax. Despite decades of portraying itself as a loyal vassal state. Many at court believed the many factions within the former wizard kingdom were accruing power.

    In a sense, this was true, but on the surface, it was the guilds growing in power, not the nation itself. They were a national institution legitimised by the emperor. Some claim this was foolish, and they were about to be made correct.

    ¡°I understand, blessed one and will carry out the defence with the forces at my disposal.¡±

    ¡°That is well and good. Now let us turn to the matter of reports.¡± The emperor shifted his gaze to the court wizard, dismissing the kneeling king.

    Andrei rose to his full height and took position at the right beside his loyal men.

    ¡°I have received a memoriam from one of our scouts.¡± The wizard answered, pulling a crystalline orb from his robe.

    Wizards knew the orb was a memoriam vessel and used it to store memories for later perusing. The magic was in the old days, rare and considered dangerous. But the imperial court wizard had developed a treasured tool of the Empire.

    This artefact could be bound to a wizard and feed a record of memories, turning the wizard into a recording device over a long distance. It could only work with skilled wizards that could maintain the spell connection. The orb glowed in his hand, while his other hovered above. Then, with a quick inhale, he began the magical invocation.  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°From the depths of the mind to the forefront of reality. I command the orb of Memoria; show me the past I desire.¡± After his long-winded spell, the orb flashed disjointed images.

    With a flick of his wrist, he projected the image above the assembled court. The projection displayed a first-person perspective of events. It appeared to be a man crouching behind some bushes, observing a small town. The wooden thatched roofs and dirt pathways revealed it to be a poor backwater settlement.

    However, its economic status was not the feature that locked everyone''s gazes. It was the fact it was on fire and the screams of the dying hung in the air. Villages wielding pitchforks and hoes fought off a swarm of humanoid beast.

    The attack was savage, yet the beasts were well armed and armoured. They appeared to be a genuine army, laying siege to their enemy. Yet what horrified the assembled was the glee in their eyes. At least that¡¯s how they saw it. Humanoid hyenas, tigers and leopards were not the most expressive of human standards.

    What really assured their viewpoint was how they efficiently slaughtered villages like cattle. Swords, claws, and spears were the weapons of choice. Death was on the menu, and everyone could see the enemy partaking vigorously. Suddenly, the projection ended, leaving everyone to release a gasp of air. Mant held their breath, while others visibly raged at their fellow humans'' deaths.

    ¡°Savages, they are inhuman!¡± One noble announced.

    Andrei looked at the man, incredulous at the audacity of these imperials had. The sight hadn¡¯t affected him. Why would it? He had seen it all before. In fact, he had conducted similar raids himself.

    War was neither a pretty sight nor a noble venture. No matter what the bards say, nor the high nobles claim. War is a blood sport where slaughter, rape and pillaging is an occupational hazard.

    ¡°As you can see, the enemy executes themselves with barbaric war practices. So, we must resolve the Helgos matter quickly, so we may repel the invaders.¡± The emperor proclaimed, receiving praises from his sycophants.

    ¡°I will go as well.¡± The voice of a young man interjected.

    Everyone turned to the stern face of Peter, the young champion of Aquara. The teenager emerged from the side, ignoring the harsh glare of Jasmine. Determination filled his eyes. It was clear why.

    The horror that crossed his expression as he took in the barbarism slaughter of civilians. The three heroes each had different reactions. Jasmine remained calm. Young Lucy covered her face. But it was Peter that seethed with indignant rage.

    Andrei could respect that the boy had a fire in him. Despite being a champion of a water deity. The concept of the great spirit of the ocean as a deity unnerved him. While he worshipped Pyrus, the fire spirit never claimed to be a god. Not like the vampire overlords of long past. The very self proclaimed Twilight gods that built the foundations of his own kingdom.

    Demon hands stained the notion that irritated him. He held no real prejudice; rather, his ancestors had appropriated existing structures. They had created nothing new. That in itself was practical. The fortress walls of Tarkon were a sight to behold. He wondered how the barbarians would fare, trying to breach walls that have stood for centuries.

    The emperor nodded, giving leave for the young hero. Andrei suspected that the little song and dance galvanised the young man. The slaughter of innocents is an excellent motivator for the young and na?ve. He had seen it all before, young soldiers running into battle for justice or vengeance. They learned quick or die, a less he wondered if the junior champion would learn.

    We left the throne room soon after. The rest of the emperor''s ramblings with his retainers were too dull to warrant attention. The king wanted more from his liege, but to have three heroes was not half bad. He was not aware of the full scope of their powers beyond the legends. But if the spirits anointed them, they were likely a force to be reckoned with.

    Though he had heard the champion of fire was a timid girl. Not exactly fighting material, despite the obvious power invested in her. If he was honest, he didn¡¯t want to put a little girl on the front lines to burn his enemies by the thousands. There are limits in war and sending children seems dishonourable. War is an adults game, much like the acts in the bedroom. Not for the eyes and minds of the children.

    The King of Tarkon. His knights and the three heroes passed through the portal. Emerging on the other side in the capital city of Skellig. It was not a large city, nothing to boast of when compared to the holy land. The vampires of old made with practicality in mind it. According to the legend, the twilight gods desired servants amongst the mortals.

    Humanity was one such client race, slaves from a certain perspective. An ancient warrior, who proved himself in battle, inherited the Kingdom of Tarkon. The strength of his arm and the bravery of his heart saw his house rise. Many like to tell this tale, but more than likely, he was just a useful slave that hit things better than the next guy.

    These thoughts raced through his mind. Despite appearances, the king had a mind that thought beyond where the pointy steel goes. He just kept up the rouse to ensure everyone underestimated him. For now, it was time to assign jobs to the youngster heroes. Best to get the most use out of them, before the emperor recalls them.

    ¡°Your majesty.¡± The guardian of the portal knelt, following Andrei¡¯s exit.

    "Assign tasks to the heroes. I believe the young Lucy is best suited to boost the morale of the men. Make sure people see and hear her."

    Turning back to the assembled heroes and their escorts. He nodded to the eldest, the uncommonly mature champion of Terranuk. The young lady nodded, accepting the assigned role.

    "The two of you will accompany me to the war room. We have much to discuss."

    Allowing no further debate, he headed towards the very location where they would plan the upcoming defence. Saying their farewells to the youngest, the two heroes followed along. Most historians considered the palace a fortress. The kings of old Tarkon refused to add any trappings of wealth and so the palace remained as it is.

    Arriving at a large room with a round table, his generals greeted Andrei. The three veteran leaders of many battles saluted as the king entered. It was a privilege only afforded to military figures of significant rank.

    The Tarkonian king is both monarch and marshal, thus generals directly below him salute instead of kneeling. The three stood around the wide wooden table, inspecting the giant map. Their attendants stationed themselves behind them, ready to act when called.

    ¡°General Thrahg, how goes the reports from the eastern borderlands?¡± The king inquired.

    The still saluting general was over six feet tall, slim for a soldier. He had a lean build, clean-shaved face and intelligent amber eyes. He was the youngest of the three, being in his mid-thirties. General Orson Thrahg, commander of the eastern army that patrolled the border. This man was the first to raise the alarm when his forces encountered a scouting party.

    ¡°I have a report from castle Ithgar. The Lankosians apparently sent a delegation with demands to vacate from the eastern plains. Naturally, the castle commander refused and is now under siege as we speak.¡± Orson explained plainly and to the point.

    ¡°How long will Ithgar last and do we have a count of the enemy forces?¡±

    ¡°If the count is accurate, Ithgar will fall in a matter of days.¡± Orson answered, setting a grim atmosphere.

    ¡°Explain?¡± The king questioned, steel entering his voice.

    ¡°The reports beggar belief, sire. They claim an army over two hundred thousand strong descends upon us.¡± The second man spoke, interceding on behalf of Orson.

    The man was the visible opposite of Orson, a large slab of muscle. People would have considered him a bodybuilder had he lived on Earth. His shaved head and stern brown eyes surveyed everything, assessing whether they could be crushed in his powerful hands.

    The king did not mind his intercession, the three could speak plainly in his presence. Besides, the number was a staggering amount. Tarkon could field an army of eighty thousand men. This figure was without the garrisons of each fortress, if emptied, they would put the total army at one hundred and fifty thousand.

    ¡°I wonder how they can maintain such a force?¡± He wondered.

    ¡°It is a point of interest, my liege. Our scouts have returned with reports of a multitude of races amongst the army. Rumours of a unification in Lankos were not mere rumours, as it seems.¡± The third general added.

    ¡°Agreed, but with such an army, only recently unified under one leader. They are likely not battle tested.¡± Andrei stated, taking a bit of pride in his own more modest army.

    The third man was so named General Elrik Gorgson, a stout man of around late forties with short sandy brown hair and a square jaw. All three wore matching military uniforms in the Tarkonian style. Formal, form fitting grey suits with decorative insignias on their wrists that signify their rank. Each symbol etched in the fabric represents a mastery of a skill. Sword for skill in combat, hammer, skill in forging, and fist for leadership. The decorations around the insignias determine the level of skill and thus rank. All three generals have the full six chevrons around their individual fist insignias.

    The room quickly descended into discussions on siege defence, troop movements, supplies and sending out a general alert to all villages and towns. The Lankosian forces are many and will probably take time to reach the interior kingdom. Tarkon had the benefit of superior defences with their castles and fortress cities.

    The main issue was the subjects who could not hide behind walls and soldiers. Someone would have to move them to fortified locations to prevent the Lankosians from slaughtering them during their bloody march. Everyone knew the beast-kin took no prisoners except for martial slaves. Andrei thought on all these subjects as his generals debated.

    Another concept wormed its way into his mind. The heroes stood behind him, each of them silent and respectful. He wondered how best to use them. He had thoroughly researched their capabilities. The updates he received from the holy lands were extensive. He recently noticed a key factor¡ªthe addition of ice-based abilities.

    Historically, there have been some water magi that could command the frost. But they were rare even amongst the champions of legend. This Peter would be most useful in siege defence. Freezing potential ascenders as they tried to hook ladders on the wall.

    With this in mind, he kept both Peter and Jasmine in Kalden Keep. They will plan this war in Kalden Keep, their current fortress. The true border fortress, Castle Melkan, will be the first to face a siege. Any army worth its salt will need it a forward base. Melkan along with castle Hemian are the two fortifications that keep the eastern plains under Tarkonian control.

    The plains are a valuable resource for the kingdom. The beast-kin that once lived there woefully underutilised the amount of land. Andrei¡¯s grandfather purged these lands and claimed it over a century ago. Currently, the twin castles were a beacon of safety for all the farming towns that dotted the landscape.

    Melkan will fall as they will concentrate their forces and overwhelm the defences. What happens to the farming towns and their citizens if they cannot reach the interior? The Emperor''s pet wizards are stationed throughout the Empire. Andrei didn¡¯t realise he had some in the eastern plains.

    Regardless, the Generals made their plans, and the king approved it, with a few alterations here and there. They would keep the heroes in reserve. Evacuation of the plains is necessary. He knew that was an inaccurate description. Based on reports over the years, Lankos has unified into a semblance of an army. Their infantry is most impressive, and their archers are darn near accurate as a hawk.

    He suspected they had segregated the different races with capabilities. The races with enhanced senses and mobility ended up in the archers. Those with superior physical attributes and experience in war ended up in the infantry. They had no cavalry to speak of, likely because of his grandfather''s zealous purge of the plains.

    His father had a particular disdain for the now near extinct Centaurs. Apparently, one had raped his daughter at least according to the rumour. From then on, he made it his kingly prerogative to wipe the species from the face of the plains.

    But all of that is the past, now we are in the present. Conflict is upon us. War shall rage in the east, heresy in the north. He wondered what would become of the Empire when the dust settles. If there is even an empire left.

 Chapter 44 - Faith

    Atop the fortifications of the castle, Hemian soldiers scurried about, acting on the orders of their respective superiors. The reports they had received cast a dim light on their future. An army of such immeasurable numbers was bearing down upon them. The United Realms of Lankos had built a unified force of two hundred thousand.

    Riders had come in with reports of auxiliary towns and villages pillaged, their populace cut down or fled in terror. The army flooded across the plains like a swarm, annihilating all on their path.

    The next stop was the border fortress. Only hours away would the army be at their doorstep, ready to siege and capture. Their modest force of ten thousand was sufficient for a general defence. But such a large force would overwhelm them in time.

    They requested reinforcements, but doubted their timely arrival. The castle had grown lax in their defence of the border. Many years had passed without a major invasion. Border raids and minor skirmishes aside. This attack truly blindsided them.

    If they had been more vigilant, perhaps they could have been better prepared. But for now, fear set in. Many a soldier wanted to retreat. To abandon their sacred oath to defend the realms of men. It would be treason and to the more religious, heresy.

    Within the castle, away from the endless stream of soldiers, was a small chapel. It was a simple thing, merely a stone room with a modest selection of seats and a raised dais. It was the local temple dedicated to Pyrus. This temple, unlike typical ones, did not host a paladin chapter.

    The order barely recognised it and largely acted as a civilian subsect of the temple. Built only a decade earlier, it had seen wear and tear over the years. Established as a place of worship by an elderly spirit magi.

    The man was in his late fifties and been part of the temples most of his life. Being an orphan left on the steps and raised in one of the many orphanages. He was a very short man, with brown short hair, asymmetrical face most would find unappealing. The light of faith burned within his dull brown eyes.

    Wearing the traditional robes of a priest, they were shabby at best, patched in some places. The only part of his attire with any value was the amulet around his neck. It was the symbol of his faith and the channel for which his patrons would avail itself.

    ¡°You should leave holy one, escape to castle Melkan.¡± A young soldier pleaded.

    The young man, dressed in chain mail and leather armour, stood before the priest and begged. They had known each other for years; himself taking solace in his sermons. The Temple of Pyrus was a militant faith, but it had evolved a culture of its own.

    ¡°My place is here; the men need the temple more than ever. Place your faith in the Lord of Fire. Salvation will be at hand.¡± The priest evoked his god, despite the spirit never claiming deification.

    Those of the faithful had deified Pyrus as the divine Lord of the Flame. The concept of gods existed in history; many beings of power had claimed such a title. Yet Pyrus never assumed the throne of godhood, for it was his faithful who placed him upon it.

    This priest of the flame was one of the more religious sects of the temple. He has come to this borderland to preach, but found many followers amongst the soldiers. Being so closed to the heathens across the plains had kindled a spark in their breasts.

    Several of them even gained favour with his patron. Becoming fire adepts, a step below a priest. They were more akin to a lower militant order under a priest or Paladin.

    ¡°If you say so, Master Gregori, I shall keep faith. May Pyrus flame protect the faithful and strike down the heathen.¡± The soldier prayed, gripping his pendant.

    The pendant was a lesser amulet and could only channel a small amount of power. When used, it could render the wearer immune to cold and imbued them with a strong vitality. Gregori had observed several of his faithful summon incredible feats of stamina. The flame of their god burned bright within them.

    The time was soon upon them, the army of heathens would soon arrive to trample upon the holy land. After he had sent the young soldier to his duties. Priest Gregori turned to the dais; the small tome lay on the pedestal. He knelt in supplication. The words contained within those pages were holy.

    ¡°I know I am unworthy, but I beseech you, oh vassal of the flame. The heathens are at our doorstep. They come to take that which was granted to us by your grace. Please, I know it is not my place. But I beg for your aid in the coming battle.¡± Following his heartfelt prayer, the unlit candle next to the tome spontaneously lit.

    The room seemed to grow brighter, banishing the darkness. The small candle somehow illuminated the entire chapel. He saw this as a sign from his god, a sign that his prayers had been heard. Still kneeling, Gregori gazed into the flickering flame. For a moment it was merely just fire, but slowly the fire grew and suddenly he knew. Crimson eyes looked back at him through the flame.

    His god did not say a word, merely convened a transcendent feeling to the man. Without words, the priest knew what his god wanted. The feeling said it all and so he rose to his feet, prepared to give his all.

    Hours later, a horn resounded throughout the castle. Every man within this bastion of defence knew what that meant. The enemy was upon them, and it was time to stage a desperate defence. They needed to last until their reinforcements arrived, which was a day or so. The men were adamant they could hold out, despite the enemies'' numbers.

    Atop the battlements, soldiers stood vigil, their gazes cast down to the flood of beast-kin. The castle rested on an elevated plain. Forest stood before them, with some hills and a further mountain range. Behind them was the access pass to the eastern plains. The castle was the guardian of his majesty''s realm. Every soldier knew that.

    Looking down at the encroaching army, Gregori recalled memories he had long since cast aside. A past long turned to dust in the ever march of time. The faces of his parents blurred and indistinct. Yet the sight of a wolf-kin disembowelling them was very much clear. It disturbed him that the face of the thing that killed his parents was so clear. While his parents may as well be strangers.

    Other moments flooded in, being taken as a war slave. The very wolf-kin that murdered his parents suggested it when the twelve-year-old Gregori hit him over the head with a bit of wood. From then on, it was nothing but slavery, travelling with a mercenary band. He had tried to escape several times but gave up after the seventh beating. Despite the harsh times, they remembered to feed him. The training was the worse, the way they fought was not honourable. Since the twelve-year-old lacked claws, they taught him to use a dagger.

    A year he spent with them; never once did he stop hating them. No, that was not right. There was one for which his ire did not fall. His name was Rikal. He was the lowest of the war band. Apparently back then the united realms were not so united. Racial divisions bred a sort of caste system. He remembered the man clearly, some sort of feline species.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Rikal was one of the few that showed any genuine concern for him. Gregori asked him once why he would care for a lowly human. Rikal explained that he had lost his litter and left it at that. He never learned more about him, before Rikal took a spear to the chest. The feline-kin were the only beast man Gregori ever mourned.

    Once the slaughter had ended, the Tarkonian legion dumped him on the local priest. A stern man by the name of Ivan. He was a priest, albeit not a very devout one. Distasteful would be the best description of him. Young Gregori wondered if he was worse than the beast-kin. The way he used the faith as an excuse to beat the word of Pyrus into him.

    Then, a decade later, he took an arrow in the eye during one of the many sieges. There was a moment where Gregori would have left it all. Taken the chapels'' funds and left for places unknown. Instead, he stayed the moment he saw the look on the soldiers'' faces. The lack of faith and the notion they would die in the next attack.

    So, over the years, he became at least what he saw as a true priest of the faith. He tried to become the best of them. Ignoring a potential career amongst the interior temples and staying with the garrison. He even convinced a wandering spirit to become his patron. The chapel at least became an ordained temple through the modest blessing.

    So many years went by, many deaths, many prayers. Now they were at the precipice of genuine change. The war had truly begun. No longer was this a gauntlet of defence, death and defence again. This battle would decide the fate of the realm. Only the faith kept him standing, a lesser man would have fled, he did not.

    ¡°If old fire breath is worried, that doesn¡¯t bode well for us.¡± A voice said from the side.

    Gregori turned to its origin, finding the figure of Oron. He was a short man, roughly five and a half feet tall. Being in his early twenties, the ginger haired youth attempted a smile. The elderly priest smiled back, an attempt to keep the humour going.

    The moniker of old fire breath was a nickname the soldiers gave him. The story behind it was simple, dating back a few years. Following his ascension to a spirit channeler, Gregori would find fewer formal uses for his new powers. One was to entertain the children that visited their fathers. He would hide his amulet beside his face, produce a gout of flame, and pretend to be a dragon. The soldiers would joke that the old man was a quarter dragon himself and soon dubbed him an old fire breath.

    ¡°It will be alright son; you must have faith.¡± Gregori said reassuringly, trying to hide his own doubts.

    The soldier immediately brightened. That was not just from his words. Gregori had noticed a visible effect he had on others. A trading of vitality that revitalises those around him. After inquiring with his patron, he learned this was common for fire spirits. Some sort of leakage occurs from the amulet in his possession. This is one reason he feels strong and fit despite being in his late fifties.

    The two stood there for a while, taking in the future laid before them. The enemy was setting up their camp, siege engines were being setup. Something he had not expected. The beast-kin had always been the claw and sword type. All the previous sieges were volleys of arrows and siege ladders. Easy to repel if you had enough men and resources manning the place.

    But this time they had a large army, with as many soldiers as the eyes could see. They were far more organised than the war bands he was used to. It gave those on this side of the continent a limited outlook on them. Many forget they come from an actual civilisation.

    The camp took nearly an hour to set up, with both sides trading arrows every once in a while. Useless gestures, meant to harass each other. It felt more spiteful than strategic, or perhaps he just didn¡¯t understand war.

    While pondering this, he noticed several of the men tense. Looking down at the enemy, it was clear why. The attackers were making ready their siege engines. He could see trebuchets, onagers and battering rams. Beast-kin have not wielded such weapons for decades. Most dismissed them as savages, that only knew how to raid and terrorise.

    This contained completely inaccurate information. What surprised Gregori more than the siege engines was the diversity of races. He could spot wolf, feline, lion, boar, bear and reptile-kin. He didn¡¯t know their specific racial names. Humans referred to them as the animals they shared kinship with.

    The only place he ever saw such a collection of races was Teskamir, the trade city. The southeastern city was the only place beast-kin and humans co-existed. although co-existence was a bit of an overstatement. There was still more conflict. The only thing that kept it from spilling over was the local constabulary.

    Last time he was there was for a holy pilgrimage. He had found no end of heretical practices. The citizenries accepted shamans, warlocks, and demon summoners. He spoke to a warlock once. The heresy that came forth would shake anyone''s belief. Comparing holy patronage to the spirits was no different to the submission to a demonic master.

    Shaking his head from the heresy that inspires doubt, he turned back to the invading army. The collection of bestial races wears gearing up for an assault. He heard someone yell and immediately ducked behind the battlement. The next thing to occur was several massive rocks slammed into the wall. Crushing, cracking and the screams of men.

    The besieging army pelted the wall with everything they had. The castle hadn''t the resources to return the favour. Time and a lack of understanding eroded the defenders. All they could do was duck, hide and hope their lives wouldn¡¯t end from a massive rock. Eventually, the attackers ended their assault after inflicting significant damage and killing many defenders.

    The invaders lined up and sent the battering ram, surrounded by a column of soldiers. They all had shields and established a wall of defenders. The castle soldiers drew back their bows and sent volley after volley, to eliminate as many as they could. Arrows fell upon the shields, embedding in the thick wooden slabs.

    No matter how many they sent, the ram kept on its course. Something needed to be done. Gregori knew this. Approaching the commander, he tapped his shoulder. The gruff and scowling soldier turned to him with angry eyes. They softened slightly for a moment, Gregori gesturing to his amulet. It was a gesture he recalled from the past and so nodded.

    Arriving at the edge, the priest peered down at the oncoming ram. Several soldiers arrived beside him, raising shields in his defence. The trio waited for the right moment, and it came a few minutes later. Ordering the soldiers to withdraw their protection, Gregori thrust his amulet forward. A surge of power flooded into him; it was his patron. Filling every facet of his being with divine fire.

    Calling upon the power, he commanded the symbol of his faith to spew forth vengeance. In response, a gout of fire, enough to make young dragons envious, erupted. It poured down upon the attackers, cruelty made manifest. Despite his faith, the sight of even beast-kin burning made him feel shame.

    But the potential deaths of his comrades, weighed against the enemy, kept his resolve. By pure will, the fire descended, decimating the shield wall and setting the ram ablaze. The attackers screamed and howled as the fire consumed them. The advance stopped shortly after. Beast-kin ran screaming back to their camp, leaving the fiery wreck.

    Breathing heavily, the priest sighed. That was a lot of power to channel, but not enough to bring him to his knees. The soldiers beside him glanced a worried look.

    ¡°Holy one, do you need help?¡± One of the shield bearers asked.

    Gregori took the man''s profile in, recognising him as a convert. The fire of Pyrus dwelled within him, granting greater vitality than mortal men.

    ¡°It is fine, no need to worry yourself dear adept.¡±

    ¡°But holy one, you channelled much divine power. Should you not rest?¡± The soldier pressed.

    The priest found the concern and compassion a warm gesture, but inappropriate considering the siege. Gregori ordered him to focus on the enemy and quickly limped over to a crate. In truth, he was tired and needed to sit down. Spirit Channelers were akin to mortal men that had attained favour, rather than a kinship. The true spirit magi bonded with their patron, becoming intrinsically tied.

    They could call upon the power of their spirit companion. While channelers could only request the power, channelled through an artefact. What rendered most channelers exhausted was bearing the weight of said power. Merely touching an amulet and calling on the power leaked into the user. It was up to the strength of the body and the power of their faith to endure.

    A lull in the battle occurred, thankful the enemy were not war loving savages. No matter the propaganda against them, they cared for their fellow soldiers. They didn¡¯t run screaming at the enemy, spending lives like droplets of water.

 Chapter 45 - Siege

    Gregori looked around. The carnage was extensive. Hard blows hit the battlements, injuring many and killing some. Many more would die. That was something he knew was a certainty. But if he could delay their ascent to the afterlife, at least for a moment. Then it would have been a good life lived.

    Rising from the crate, he shook off the dust from his weary bones. Amulet in hand, he made ready his power to be used to attack and defend. Saddling up to the battlements, he inspected the enemy. They were making ready for another attack. The scorched battering ram was no major loss. It was now time for a major assault.

    Ladders were being prepped, and enemy soldiers were making ready. He could see them lining up and lifting the massive metal constructions. The ladders were tall and no doubt they would reach. They had hooks on the end, likely to grip or impale anyone that tried to stop them.

    The attack soon arrived, ferocious and wild. The enemy threw themselves at the wall. Ladders ascended, latching on the walls, ferrying beasts to the realm of men. Archers loosed arrows; others returned fire. The bloodshed was horrific as the enemy decided on a brutal wave tactic.

    Gregori unleashed a gout of fire, burning several ascenders. His efforts kept the amount of enemies that reached the top to a minimum. But with every expenditure of his amulet, he felt the weakening of his spirit.

    ¡°Hold the line!¡± The fortress commander ordered.

    His soldiers pressed forward, shields pressing against the never ending tide. They held the wall as well as they could. But the casualties slowly rose, with each assault repelled. At least one man died.

    The garrison was not used to this level of warfare. They had not experienced the struggle against a truly overwhelming force.

    ¡°Steady men, keep a tight formation.¡± The commander again ordered.

    Just as the men found courage to endure, a wet sound, followed by a thud, echoed. The men turned to glance back at the now silent commander. What they found was a headless corpse. The declared face staring back at them, while a strange shimmer moved away.

    Right there and then, the moral the men had accumulated abruptly dropped. Some fought on and died, while others fled through the access door, deeper into the keep. The battlement was quickly overwhelmed and taken.

    Gregori, realising the futility of the defence, defended the doorway as soldiers flooded in. After the remaining garrison soldiers entered, he faced the approaching beast-kin.

    The Lankosians covered the army in blood. Lankosians did not have a reputation for clean killings. Some say it was their savage nature coming to the forefront. Others said it was a fear tactic, to strike terror in the survivors. Gregori knew it was both a channelling of savagery towards a strategic end. He saw glimpses of it amongst the mercenaries that once held his chains. Now a great army of Lankos made it manifest.

    Quickly, he ferried the men down the narrow path. He did not count how many had survived and didn¡¯t want to. The enemy had taken the battlements; they swarmed over like locust. Raising the amulet, he burned anyone foolish enough to approach. They got the message and gave the priest a wide berth.

    ¡°Do you really think you can stop us all, shaman?¡± A wolf-kin draped in chain mail and wielding an axe spoke sinisterly.

    Referring to a priest of the flame as a mere shaman was a slight to most of the faith. To Gregori, he knew it was just their term for them. The Lankosians had no formal religions nor any concept of a priest. They had shamans that bound spirits and warlocks that served demons.

    ¡°I cannot. I am merely a man. However, your death is certain. For you march on the holy land, protected by the sacred flame.¡± The priest replied, presenting his amulet.

    In truth, he was buying time. He had exhausted much of his strength and needed time. The wolf-kin chuckled before swaying back and forth as if searching for something. He grinned before palming his axe, slick with blood.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see your precious flame here to defend you.¡±

    ¡°The sacred flame is within us all. You will see it when it is time. It is unlikely you will enjoy it.¡± Gregori retorted, smiling back.

    The wolf-kin chuffed a puff of air, clearly fed up with this discourse. He then ordered his men to attack, they did so with minor reluctance. Descending upon the lonely priest, instead of heroism, he shut the door and slid the bolt. What proceeded was a lot of banging and shouting. With his amulet raised, he looked back at several soldiers descending the stairs and called out to them.

    ¡°Do we have any artisans of earth?¡± He queried frantically, his eyes never leaving the door.

    Several men approached. In the most limited sense: They qualified as soldiers. They wore armour, but lacked the formal attire of the Tarkonian military. The garrison employed artisans. They were also devotees to the spirit of earth, Terranuk.

    ¡°Can you collapse this hallway?¡± He asked.

    ¡°We can try, holy one.¡± One of them answered.

    ¡°Then do so.¡±

    They immediately went to work, withdrawing hammers. While the temple of Pyrus distributed amulets to its priests. The artisans of Terranuk got blessed hammers or tools. With these artefacts, they could shape and control the earth elements. With a strike upon metal, the material will yield. Here, the artisans thrust their hammers forth.

    The hallway rumbled with each impact upon the floor or walls. It took five hits before the walls and roof cracked and fell. Burying the door under rubble and preventing access. With their work done, Gregori lead the surviving men through the interior. Many civilians joined along the way as they gathered provisions and resources.

    They headed towards the back entrance to the plains and hoped to the spirits they would be in time. Having unbarred the door, the group went outside. They exited to an open area of grassland; a short pathway led to the wide plains. Although not secret, the entrance was hidden from casual observation.

    The group made no bother with ceremony and fled as fast as they could. To reach the nearest fortification, one could walk several hours to the nearest outpost, which offered access to horses. Fewer than one hundred people, many wounded, comprised the group.

    Gregori lead them out and sent them to flee as fast as they could. There was pleading from the most faithful for himself to flee as well. The priest accepted their desires as earnest and affectionate, but still told them to flee.

    ¡°Holy one, you must flee as well. We will carry you if need be.¡± One soldier pleaded.

    ¡°No, my son, I would only slow you down. I will remain and hold off the enemy.¡± Gregori stated firmly, his resolve shining through.

    The soldiers that remained with him were all the faith. Each of them possessing their own minor blessings. They had attended to him for many years. They were his flock, akin to the children he wishes he had. So much he sacrificed in his pursuit of his faith. He did all this to ensure a peaceful land for others to flourish upon.  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°I wish I had the time to tell you everything I want to say. But know this, I am very proud of you all.¡± He said, as heartfelt as his failing heart could be.

    He didn¡¯t want to tell them this, that he was nearing the end of his mortal life. Even with the blessings of Pyrus, his life was nearing its end. What followed was much internal conflict, pleading and tears. But in the end, they fled with the group, promising to defend them. The priest watched them leave and sighed with a small smile.

    ¡°Is this my time I wonder?¡± He mused, casting his gaze to the heavens.

    Standing his ground, he watched as beast-kin poured out of the fortress exit. He wondered how they broke through the collapsed stairwell. But that didn¡¯t seem like a priority now.

    Grabbing hold of his amulet, empowering his feeble arms with strength and snapping the chain around his neck. Now free from its leash, he raised it up to the heavens. Cupping the object of his faith with both hands as if presenting it to his patron.

    The amulet glowed a dull red before the priest drew it down and presented it to the oncoming storm. The beasts didn¡¯t relent. Assured of their victory, they charged the lone priest.

    "I am a servant of the holy fire, wielder of the flame of Pyrus. Your faithless ways will not protect you from his judgement." The priest declared with every fibre of his faith.

    The feeling of his patron was profound as the flames of judgement enveloped him. The power was overwhelming and sublime. This calling of favour was the most dangerous of acts. To take in the patron and allow them to work their will amongst fragile flesh.

    His eyes blazed the fury of the spirits, and with a gesture, flames rose from the ground. The advancing enemy halted in their tracks, but an eagre few found themselves destroyed by the flames of judgement. The priest would weep over such senseless death, yet the power rendered all ethical concerns mute.

    ¡°You will advance no further!¡± He commanded as if they would obey.

    Amulet in hand, the fires blazed, holding back the tide of beasts. Some tried to circumvent, manoeuvring around the blaze and aiming their bows. Arrows loosed and another flame wall intercepted them. The priest was spending power wholesale. His body, although intact on the surface, was burning from within.

    He sent blasts of inferno, setting the land ablaze and any who dare come close. The Lankosians fell back, ceasing their advance in favour of life. The priest stood vigil, a burning vanguard to the realms of men.

    Soon after, a group of well-equipped archers arrived, mocked strange glass arrows. Taking aim, they loosed the flying weapons of death. Instead of vaporizing upon contact with the flame wall. They passed through undamaged, piercing the defensive magic and reaching the intended target.

    The arrows hit their target dead centre, three of them slammed into his chest with dull thuds. With the power coursing through him, only barely registered the attack. Staggering, he nearly fell to his knees. His elderly legs buckled, but they did not bend.

    Instead, he drew more power into his body. His blood started to boil and skin melted. He ignored the pain, instead sending blasts of heat to annihilate everything everything in his path. Many beast-kin died that day, burned to a crisp. Only for it all to end with the final arrow, felling him.

    Someone loosed another arrow, piercing his heart, already damaged beyond repair. No longer able to stand, the aged priest, Gregori the slave, old fire breath, fell to his knees and left this world.

    With the battle over and the fortress secure. The Lankosians cheered their victory over the humans and the first successful battle in a much larger campaign. The individual legion commanders extolled to the men their skill at arms and their bravery.

    While they celebrated, General Grey-Tusk stood in the fortress chapel, his gaze transfixed upon the mural that decorated the wall. It depicted a fiery humanoid, arms outstretched, distributing tiny fires to the kneeling masses.

    Examining the decor intently, he barely noticed the hooded figure strolling up beside him. The being that arrived was certainly not a beast-kin, not a native of Lankos. The shape was, of course, humanoid, but that was where the similarities ended.

    Beneath the cowl lay a reptilian form, akin to an upright lizard. The differences lay in the horn-like extensions from the left and right side of its head. The slitted eyes cast a curious glare upon its environment. Back and forth behind it,: The scaled tail wiped.

    ¡°What do you make of this?¡± The General inquired.

    ¡°Beautiful reverence to a false idol. It pleads to be profaned.¡± The reptilian being replied.

    The General didn¡¯t react, beyond tilting his head in thought. He knew whom this being was and why he was here. He had orders to ensure every courtesy was given.

    ¡°So, demons seek to corrupt places of worship.¡±

    ¡°True enough, but that is just my opinion. Such acts are far behind us, considered uncivilised and poor diplomacy.¡± The demon explained.

    The General was thoughtful. He had learned much during his more studious days. Demon culture from the far east was a minor subject of study.

    ¡°I can see how many cultures would view that as religious intolerance.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps it is. Demon society was once such a simplistic and primitive way to live. But as we spread across the mortal realms, we have become more than what we were.¡± Tilting its head, the demon has a toothy grin.

    ¡°Well, I hope you won¡¯t have an issue with my intention of preserving this monument to a worthy adversary.¡± He stated in less of a suggestion, but a statement of fact.

    ¡°A worthy adversary?¡± The demon probed.

    ¡°The priest that slew dozens of my men with fires brought up from the internal realms themselves.¡±

    ¡°That piddling excuse for fire is a lesser breed. I am offended by the insinuation mortals could command such things without us.¡± The demon cursed oddly with a smile.

    "It is what the men say. Still, he fought well and died in glory. His people will grant him death honours, according to their customs."

    ¡°How respectful Va-General.¡± The demon stated, using the old Demonusian suffix to denote a war leader of another race.

    ¡°Indeed, I have heard from the captives that burning on a pyre seems appropriate.¡±

    The two agree and turn to face each other. Regarding one another, the boar-kin and demon appear to assess some unknown criteria.

    ¡°I have been told the Federation is offering logistical aid. Some new communications system, is that correct?¡± He inquired.

    ¡°You are correct, the Federation council is eagre to see this war resolved. In the spirit of this understanding, they have sent myself to act as chief communications officer for the duration of the campaign.¡±

    "I am quite interested in learning the specifics of this method. The member states widely reject Demonusian techniques."

    ¡°It is true our ways are difficult for most mortals to accept; I think it''s all the blood sacrifices. Why mortals would be so squeamish is beyond me. They kill, carve up and eat animals regularly. Throwing away all that useful blood, so very wasteful.¡± The demon borderline ranted, shaking his head futile.

    ¡°Anyway, you were about to explain the process?¡± The General chimed in, pulling the conversation back.

    ¡°Ah yes, Va-General, the process. The technique is relatively simple. I have quite several imps in my service. They are all currently in the infernal realm, awaiting to be summoned. These imps will ferry messages between your officers through myself as the central operator.¡±

    ¡°How will they accomplish this?¡± The General asked.

    ¡°Through the use of demonic summoning. We have streamlined the process. It requires very little blood, preferably virgin and far more simplified ritual.¡± Following his explanation, he withdrew a small booklet, handing it over.

    Opening the book, reading the contents, he noted each page contained an arcane diagram of summoning, along with a simple step-by-step process to summon and dismiss the demon. Flicking through the pages, he noted each had a slightly different diagram. The pages also had a numbered code above them, denoting different demonic recipients.

    ¡°If I am reading this correctly, this is an instruction manual to summon and dismiss a variety of lesser demons?¡±

    ¡°Exactly. We will assign each demon to a communications officer. With regular check-ins and some cases of emergency. The divisions will summon their assigned demon, hand them reports and dismiss them. Once dismissed, myself will summon them, with the communique intact.¡±

    ¡°I can definitely see the benefit of this, compared to the typical methods. But I have one question before we start.¡± The General asked.

    The demon nodded for him to continue.

    ¡°Why virgin blood?¡± He asked, genuinely perplexed.

    ¡°That is quite a hotly debated topic. I can explain the theory, or I can dig through some of my old textbooks.¡±

    ¡°Brief explanation, please.¡±

    ¡°As you wish Va-General. Several theories explain why, in the old days, most of demondom believed it was related to purity. Later scholars suggested it had no real significance and was largely a cultural motivation. To defile the pure and pious, back when they conflicted with certain... Religions. The most widespread theory, however, is the concept that intercourse is a metaphysical act of surrender to another being. The absence of virgin blood in this surrender makes it more valuable. People still debate whether it affects the efficiency of spells. Regardless, it is still a standard.¡± Finishing his long winded but supposedly short explanation, the demon awaited a response.

    ¡°Interesting.¡± The General stated simply, while his internal thoughts were vastly different.

 Chapter 46 - Detours On The Road To Aresla

    In the dead of the night, a solitary figure slowly descended from the clouds over a quaint little inn. The man appeared to be standing in the air itself. Slowly descending to a nearby window, he peered in. Within were two familiar figures resting on a single bed. Only one of them, the female, appeared to be hovering slightly in the air, while the younger male slept soundly.

    The figure outside frowned, withdrawing a worn journal from thin air. He flicked through the pages, settling on one titled skin rune experiments. Only a few paragraphs and two sketched diagrams sparsely covered the page. Withdrawing a ballpoint pen, he jotted down a few notes while mumbling the words.

    ¡°Need to account for trace mana infusion, triggering the activation procedure. The mana-enriched environment can trigger dormant runes without the users'' notice.¡±

    Closing the book, the implements soon vanished, leaving the figure empty handed. Once done, the figure dropped his cowl, revealing himself to be Al. Exposing his right forearm, he began caressing a glowing tattoo. Moving it like a volume dial, the floating girl, revealed to be Joan, slowly descended.

    Nodding, he cast his gaze across the room and noted something was amiss. A third figure was absent. His undead test subject was gone. He wondered if someone sent him to scout the area, but considering the abundance of walking jolly meals, he doubted that.

    Thinking it over, he pondered his next move. They needed to leave as soon as possible. Aresla was the next stop, and they could meet up with their former companions. Assuming James and Sally were still alive. But leaving a roaming Nosferatu running around was not wise. Deciding, he descended to the ground and made his way into the inn.

    After an exchange of some stolen coins, the greedy receptionist let me pass. Someone can likely buy his blindness to certain criminal activities. Al thought of cursing the man but recalled his unstable magic and suspected any curse he performed might make him implode. Since he didn¡¯t deserve to expand like a balloon, he left the man alone. Perhaps he will piss someone off and get a knife in the shoulder.

    Making his way inside, he ascended the stairs and passed several rooms, reaching a select one. Knocking on the door with two stiff taps, he waited for a response. The sound of grunts and someone falling off the bed soon followed. Footsteps proceeded, the door being opened a crack and the face of Joan came into view. She was tired, with sleep in her eyes, and lethargic.

    ¡°You look like crap,¡± Al commented.

    ¡°I feel like crap. I have never felt this before.¡± Jo replied, rubbing her eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s normal, those runes require a lot of energy to power and using them freely is quite an expenditure on the body.¡±

    ¡°I wish you would have told me that before.¡± She harrumphed, letting him inside the room.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask.¡±

    Upon entering, the door shut behind him and the appearance of a rousing teenager vampire was slowly sitting up. Al examined the room, waiting for either of them to figure it out. Despite the silence and the two being wide awake, they hadn''t commented on a certain absence.

    ¡°Missing something?¡± Al prodded.

    The two looked perplexed before Felix rubbed his eyes, taking the room into focus. His eyes bulged upon the pure realisation.

    ¡°Alek is missing!¡± He all but yelled.

    ¡°Ding, ding, ding give the man a million dollars.¡±

    The pair turned to him, confused and not getting the reference.

    ¡°Ignore that. We need to go. This place is shady as hell. We are behind schedule and a vampire is on the loose.¡± He said finally, wiping the siblings into gear.

    What followed was a frantic gathering of their meagre possessions and the elder sister helping the younger brother get his shirt on. Once ready, the trio escaped the confines of the inn and made their way outside. The sun had yet to rise, and it was still quite dark. They moved through the town, past the domestic district, and into the market area. It was early and everyone was setting up shops.

    Folded tables and barrels displayed various items across the scenery. Merchants sold wine, textiles, and magic items at hopefully reasonable prices. Al wanted to browse these items, but a particular merchant was what he searched for. The sight of several leashed horses was the sight he wanted to see.

    ¡°Hail traveller, do you wish to peruse my humble wares?¡± The merchant emphasised. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The man was in his late thirties and wore something similar to a burqa, except without a face concealed. The attire was an odd one. Al had not seen it like in this world. A cursory glance around, he noticed only a few had such attire. Perhaps they were fellow associates or foreigners from some arid domain.

    ¡°Hail, a fine day it is to do so. But first, I must compliment you on your attire. It is quite exotic.¡± Al spoke with a joyful tone and a positive attitude.

    "You have refined tastes in clothing. My homeland, known for fine textiles, produces this pure Teskarmirian silk."

    ¡°And what fine cloth, indeed. I have heard of your homeland. Is it true those not of human blood dwell there?¡± Al asked in a hushed whisper.

    The merchant frowned. His expression cycled through several degrees of worry, before adjusting himself. Giving a wide brim smile, meant to put all at ease.

    ¡°That is true. Teskamir accepts all within its walls, man and beast alike.¡±

    ¡°How progressive. I admit I lack such a worldly experience. Never left the Empire. Would you tell me of your home while I peruse your stock?¡±

    ¡°Of course, mister?¡± Smiling, he inquired about his customer''s name.

    ¡°My name is Al; this is Felix and his sister Joan.¡± He introduced.

    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you both.¡± He nodded, directing the trio.

    He spoke at length about his homeland. The city-state of Teskamir was located to the southeast of Tarkon. Independent from both the kingdom and the federation. They maintained nominally friendly relations with both sides. Trade was their value and two nations hostile to each other needed their goods.

    Because of this cooperative attitude, they had a diverse population. Composed of immigrant humans and several beast-kin races. As expected, they built their city in a desert and he wore standard attire. They called it the Hanzi. The female equivalent was the Hanzinesh, which was considerably more decorative.

    It was not uncommon for men and women to decorate their Hanzina, with the colours of their clan. His decorations were plain stripes in the blue and grey. This denoted clan fewer individuals, most of such peoples were nomads or refugees.

    Despite how interesting this was, the two had other pressing concerns. They haggled for a good ten minutes before they settled on thirty silvers for three horses. They weren''t fine specimens but would do for the journey. The three mounted their horses, Al on one and the siblings on the other two. Because Felix had little riding experience, his sister leashed his horse to hers.

    They left the town soon after, following Felix''s direction. The young vampire claimed he could sense his progeny. It was not perfect, merely a direction and a vague notion of distance. They followed behind their little bloodhound as he led them further from civilisation. Down a dirt road, into a spacious woodland and through a concealed path. It didn¡¯t take long for them to find the most likely location of their wayward vampire. And in typical fashion, akin to Dracula, they found a decrepit castle.

    ¡°Did we step out of high fantasy and enter the horror genre?¡± Al commented, one brow raised.

    ¡°Genre?¡± Felix asked, perplexed.

    ¡°Never mind, but looks like your progeny is going full, Dracula. Perhaps we should call him Aleksander Tepes.¡±

    The siblings just looked at each other, trying to discern from each other the nonsense he had spouted. They had long since ignored the strange words he uttered. None of it made sense, even when he explained it. His words raised more questions than they answered.

    Al noticed this and promptly shut up. He had other interests currently, mostly in the giant Transylvanian castle before them. The place was modestly large and haunting to anyone that viewed it. The castle possessed a gothic structure, featuring imposing architecture such as pointed arches and ancient black stone walls. He had expected towering spires, but there was still a layer of practicality. Having a general vampiric theme, it was still had battlements and crenelations atop the wall. Though not too difficult to climb with a ladder.

    ¡°Cheery place. Are you sure he is in here? It¡¯s stereotypical for a vampire to just find some dark castle.¡±

    ¡°Yes, he is in there. I can feel him, if that makes sense.¡± Felix tried to explain, frowning.

    "Far be it from me to deny your psychic progeny connection."

    ¡°Do we knock?¡± Joan interjected, eyeing the giant wooden gate.

    ¡°Why not, its polite.¡± Al answered.

    Deciding on the next course of action, they approached cautiously. The three stood before the gate, and Al was the first to knock. He hit the wood as hard as he could, trying to send the sound as far out as possible. He wasn¡¯t sure if there were folks whose job was door minding.

    They waited for a few minutes and were just about to knock again when the gate opened slightly. It creaked loudly just as a face appeared. It was gaunt and pale, looking to be a dead man that got up and answered the door. Ignoring his obviously dead-like appearance, he seemed to be a young man wearing gambeson armour. He looked to be a young bandit or a wide-eyed soldier, ready to have his smile wiped away by the horrors of war.

    Instead of words or a simple who are you, the dead man grunted. He looked entirely perplexed, not just with the visitors, but also with what to do now. The shuffling prompted the dead doorman to glance back.

    ¡°Belus, you stupid oaf, stop scaring potential guests. Shoo, away with you.¡± The voice of a woman intoned.

    Following her chastising, the undead fellow vacated with a grunt and a few slow steps. What replaced him was a middle-aged woman in a grey dress. She had tanned skin and brown hair; she seemed like the typical village woman, at odds with the whole castle situation.

    ¡°Greetings, welcome to castle Valkenhan. If you were just wandering by, we can accommodate weary travellers. If you are bandits looking to raid, I would suggest fleeing for your lives.¡± She paused for a moment, letting the threat hang in the air.

    "We are not bandits. We are here to see a friend who is about this tall, has pale skin, and might be covered in red, but I can assure you that''s just paint."

    The woman squinted her eyes, not really getting the stranger''s humour. Suspicion and caution were at the top of her emotional pyramid. She was likely weighing the efficacy of slamming the gate on them. But in the end, she let the trio in, likely because it was freezing outside. She seemed to have a soft spot for the two minors.

    ¡°Come on in, it''s freezing outside. But you, I will be watching you.¡± She stated firmly, her finger planted directly at the object of her caution.

 Chapter 47 - Castle Valkenhan

    Al shrugged, his hands up and at his sides as he stepped through the door. Entering, they found themselves in a small courtyard after exiting the battlements. The area was sparse, with several figures moving around. Four women were leading around two pale figures as their personal labour force. The men seemed like walking corpses, slow but strong enough to haul giant crates. Wearing brown tunics, they looked like prisoners raised from the dead by a necromancer.

    ¡°How is the inventory going Lucinda?¡± their guide asked the redhead.

    ¡°Not great. These idiots seem to have prioritised booze over basic provisions.¡±

    ¡°Why am I not surprised? Still, get it all catalogued. Perhaps we can sell them?¡±

    The two women seemed exasperated, as if this was a common occurrence. The trio continued, passing by the undead workers and their female overlords. Passing through the courtyard, they entered an internal building, then proceeded down a stone hallway into a throne room. The place was a mess. Someone with no artistic talent painted the room red.

    The castle''s occupants were cleaning up the mess. The occupants saw traces of bloodstains spanning the entire room. Streaks of blood being slowly washed with damp clothes and buckets of water. Two women and four men were cleaning from the centre outwards. With ease, two pale figures moved the massive table aside.

    ¡°It looks like your kid has multiplied.¡± Al commented, lifting his chin to the three pales figures.

    They were clearly vampires and had that same dull look on their faces. They appeared just like Alek was, having no memory or will of their own. This was the same for them all, except for one. A familiar vampire was on his hands and knees, cleaning a corner of the room. Prompted by Al¡¯s voice, his head perked up.

    Gesturing to one of his fellow undead, he passed the cleaning duties off. Turning to face the trio, he slightly startled them. Aleksander, named by them and reborn into a state akin to an adult toddler, was strutting confidently towards them. The gleam of intelligence was in his eye, along with a slight smile. Arriving before them, his gaze cast between them, settling on Felix. He bowed deeply to the young man, flustering the teenager to no end.

    ¡°Father, it is good to see you.¡± He said, confounding their guide.

    The woman shifted back and forth between the young man and the adult. Her mind churning to figure out precisely how a younger man could be an elder''s father. Alek noted this and quickly interjected.

    ¡°I know it¡¯s confusing, Sandra.¡± Alek stated.

    ¡°It''s a bit of a long story. I will go into it later. For now, I will receive our guests in the office room.¡±

    Sandra wanted to inquire further; curiosity was obvious to anyone with sense. Instead, she nodded and lead them quietly out of the throne room, down a hall and into a new room. It was obviously some sort of study, likely used by someone of high station. On the opposite side was a wooden desk and chair, in the centre two lounges set across from each other.

    The four seated themselves, the siblings on the left lounge, Alek and Al on the right. Silence descended for a moment before Sandra spoke up.

    ¡°Would any of you like some tea?¡±

    The siblings shook their head in the negative, Al graciously accepted the offer. Alek, however, frowned, clearly perplexed about something.

    ¡°Where did we get tea? Last I checked, the inventory was mostly rations and alcohol.¡± He asked.

    ¡°Some girls went foraging this morning. Samantha is quite knowledge on the subject.¡± She answered with a demure smile.

    Nodding, she left the room to give the foursome privacy. Silence descended again before Felix spoke up. Alek, who tried speaking as well, leading to a back and forth of pleasantries, stopped him. In the end, Alek began, looking far too nervous for a middle-aged man to be.

    ¡°I just want to say that I am sorry for attacking you. Currently, I''m still figuring out who I am now, as I wasn''t a good man back then. I just wanted to get that out before anything else.¡± He paused after pouting out his heart, glancing from side to side, gauging their response.

    Al and Joan were frowning, both for indiscernible reasons. Felix, however, was visibly nervous; his hands were fidgeting.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Alek. I know you are sorry. I can''t explain how, but I feel you are sincere.¡± Felix reassured the man, trying for a smile and not quite getting it.

    His words made Alek brighten; He deflated soon after, inspecting the two others in the room. Specifically, Joan, the sister of the boy he tried to kill. He could sense that the apology barely moved her and would always suspect him.

    ¡°You remember who you are?¡± Al interjected, eager to learn for a very different reason.

    ¡°Yes, I remember, but honestly, I would prefer to forget. But that would be cowardice. A man shouldn¡¯t hide from the truth.¡±

    ¡°You''re talking much better now. That¡¯s great. I was worried you would be stuck unable to communicate. I don¡¯t know what I would do if that happened,¡± Felix added, deflating slightly. The notion was something he feared for a while.

    The two vampires smiled solemnly as an unspoken connection kept them from tumbling into despair from all the what ifs.

    ¡°Why did you leave?¡± Joan interjected rather forcefully.

    The three turned to regard her, noting she was not exactly angry. She was concerned, or perhaps a little hurt. Despite seeing Alek as a threat, she could not deny the attachment of her brother had to him. Alek paused, gathering his thoughts, and began recounting last night''s events.

    He explained how he encountered members of his old gang. They took him to this fortification, assuming he had fled a failed bounty. To cheer him up, they brought him to the dungeons, where he encountered the imprisoned women. Knowing this was wrong, he tried to rescue them. In the ensuing struggle, he bit and killed a few of his former gang.

    His captors soon captured, tortured, and interrogated him. He escaped, but only when the dead rose. The men he had sunk his fangs in, rose from their graves as Nosferatu. They started attacking the other bandits, killing and turning as they went. This ended with a tumultuous battle with his former leader, a turncoat paladin with a captured fire spirit.

    His defeat left them with a few undead residents. Most of them were scum, sadistic killers that raided and pillaged. Four of them were not so much. They had risen as vampires, but they were logistical staff. Managing a bandit group of this size required those in less combat roles. The freed women largely spared these four because they fulfilled these purposes.

    One of them was barely a man, being only seventeen of age and a slave. Despite the Empire''s anti-slavery laws, criminals still practiced slavery. They sold Kal to the group only a month ago, and he was always kind to the women, never harming them. He would sneak them extra food or water, trying to do something good when surrounded by atrocities.

    The other three were bandits, two of them were no good with a sword. Acting as managers of the equipment or cleaners. Thes two were former slaves, Ivar and Galik. The last, Tobias, was the bastard son of a rival gang. All three were in their early twenties and each ended up in the gang against their will.

    Ivar and Galik were good men and kept their head down. Tobias was a bit more complicated. Initially, they wanted to kill him as they heard he raped one woman. He revealed he had claimed her to protect her from the others. The two were in love and had planned to flee whenever they got the chance.

    Her name was Isla, and she broke down in tears, explaining this. Desperately trying to coax her deceased lover to remembrance. Tobias, like the other vampires, was completely absent of thought. They acted only on instinct or instructions from their creator. Alek tried to reassure the distraught Isla that her lover may yet return to her.

    The story of how Tobias served the gang for the sake of Isla. Her protection was paramount to him and for her, he stained his hands with blood. He did not take part in every raid, but he was useful in keeping the absorbed bandits in check. The bandit group was once two rivals, Tobias was born of rape by the rival gang''s leader. They killed his father by burning him alive, and they absorbed the survivors into a larger group. They kept Tobias as their spiritual leader.

    ¡°We kept the others in prison cells. Bleeding them to keep them weak, it seems to work in the event my control over them lessens. Getting the four blood has been tricky. We have determined that animal blood works. The women are working to set up this castle as a home for now. Most have nothing to return to. But a few will leave in a few days to find their old homes.¡± He explained after delivering quite the tale. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Are you okay, Alek?¡± Felix asked, visibly disturbed by the story.

    ¡°I''m alright, you needn¡¯t worry. I just wanted to ask.¡± He pauses, trying to summon up the courage to make a request of his creator.

    ¡°I will understand if you want me to return to your side. But I beg you to give me leave to stay and help these people.¡±

    Felix was flabbergasted when he received the heartfelt request. Intellectually, he understood the value of his creation and deep down; he longed for him to return to his side. Still, he could see that the first vampire he created had a desire that would take him away.

    ¡°You should stay. These people need your help.¡± He agreed with some reluctance.

    ¡°Thank you. You don¡¯t know what this means to me.¡±

    The two agreed, both not really acting their ages. It was an odd sight for the two. Joan wanted to say something, but knew this was between her brother and the vampire he created. It was a bond she couldn¡¯t wrap her head around. Still, she accepted it as a fact of life. Al really wanted some popcorn. This reminded him of a soap opera. Only the ages of the characters were reversed.

    While watching the entertaining back and forth, Al¡¯s eye caught on a peculiar set of armour. A stand held the strange gear, with a sword on a nearby rack. What drew his gaze was the faint pulse of magic. Of course, magic was everywhere in this world, but it was far too scattered for any old wizard to always see. It required tools and spells to truly see magic in all its intricate details.

    This piece of attire radiated magic, but it wasn¡¯t the typical. Magic, particularly high magic zones, were chaotic forces. Enchanted items had a faint trace of magic, only ancient artefacts of immense power were noticeable. All these instances had traces of chaotic forces. Someone refined this armour; it was orderly and a work of art, if not for its origins. He tried to think of a word and only came up with industrial.

    ¡°I''m sorry to interrupt, but may I have looked at that armour and sword?¡± Al inquired.

    ¡°Of course you can. It¡¯s not actually mine. But since you asked, would you be able to help a friend of mine with a magic problem in exchange?¡±

    Al nodded, accepting that a little too quickly. The armour captured solely his attention. Felix and Alek promptly left the room, the latter suggesting they walk and talk, touring the castle. Al ignored them and hurried over to inspect his fresh interest. He hadn''t noticed the tea arriving and being set on the table, nor the fact Joan was still in the room.

    Pulling out his glasses, he examined the armour in more detail. What followed was his journal and a pen being pulled out of thin air and a lot of writing. Joan didn¡¯t interrupt, which he appreciated, but her patience waned after two paragraphs.

    ¡°Can we talk about these tattoos?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Runes, not tattoos.¡± He answered, not lifting his head.

    ¡°Runes, whatever, we need to talk about them.¡±

    Al paused his work, turned around to notice the utterly serious look on her face. Closing his journal, he rose to meet her. Noting the smoking tea on the table, he gestured her to sit. Once seated, he took a whiff and liked the aroma. It smelled like chamomile.

    ¡°Alright then, what''s on your mind?¡±

    ¡°These runes are amazing. Is it possible to get more?¡± She said, switching from serious to giddy excitement.

    While getting excited over magical abilities was not something he hadn''t expected, her explosive joy was odd. Examining her with his magically inclined glasses, he figured out the problem. The healing rune was a changed version of his own. Normally, the original gathered power over time until it reached a threshold. Stored the magical energy to be used later.

    An analogy for this was slowly filling a barrel of water with a valve on the end. Once full, you can open the valve and release the water at your leisure. But in this high magic environment, the valve can¡¯t take the water pressure and bursts under the slightest release. To counter this, he devised a changed rune that would slowly release the pressure.

    It would be highly inefficient on low magic worlds, but here it was a necessity. Several valves enabled the rune''s use, without overloading the spell, releasing magical pressure. The side effect he hadn''t expected was the effect of leakage. The slow release of mana attuned to healing energy had an ongoing effect on the body.

    It was a positive effect in a way, likely Joan would be the healthiest human right now. She wouldn¡¯t have an exceptional healing factor, but she would be darn hard to kill. But as with life absent moderation, there are problems with too much of a good thing. Healing mana leaking at a constant rate conferred boundless energy upon her, like consistent doses of cocaine.

    She stood waiting for Al to answer, like an addict jonesing for a fix. She hid it well when around her brother. But now it was on display for all to see. He wondered briefly if that would happen to him. He had been marking himself with rune magic for years now. Perhaps this high-magic environment had already addicted him.

    ¡°Hold up Jojo, two is enough. Adding a third to the mix could burn you out.¡±

    ¡°Aw come on, just one more. Can I shoot fireballs or lightning from my hands?¡± she asked excitedly asked.

    ¡°Those are some runes that can do that, but they are pretty advanced and liable to set you on fire or electrocute you to death.¡±

    She visibly deflated at the answer, half disappointed, half worried. It doesn¡¯t matter how good magic feels, the concept of death can hamper anyone''s buzz.

    ¡°But come on, Jo, you already have cool rune powers. You can heal yourself and manipulate gravity.¡± He tried to reassure, sitting himself beside her.

    ¡°Yeah, but all I can do is heal scratches and levitate. What good is that?¡±

    Tilting his head, Al realised he had made a mistake. In his defence, he lacked the time to properly educate her because he was in a hurry. Still, he should of at least given her a manual. He made a mental note to write up a manual on the rune operation.

    ¡°You haven''t experimented with your rune¡¯s?¡± He asked.

    ¡°What do you mean, experimented?¡±

    ¡°The runes are not one-trick spells; they are quite versatile, and their designers intended them to produce guided magical effects.¡±

    Al neglected to mention they were prototypes, designed specifically to work in this world. Granting finer control over mana flow and the magical effects could cause problems. Thus, why he added the healing rune, just in case? His original design ran in low power worlds. Matesh was rather barren for magic, but it was there. So, he created runes that sucked up every scrap of power it could get its grubby hands on.

    This was a major issue in high magic worlds such as this one. This new version didn¡¯t grab every scrap of magic to power the spell. It only grabbed enough to facilitate the effect. Of course, this was not perfect and there was some leakage. It was terribly wasteful, in his opinion, but when magic was in abundance, he could afford it.

    ¡°Sit down with me and I will take you through a few visualisation techniques.¡±

    She did so, and the two spoke for nearly an hour. He showed her methods to clear her mind, focus on singular tasks. A few breathing techniques and a general understanding of magic. She could at least increase and decrease the size of the gravity field.

    While sitting in the lotus position, the two levitated. Al was using his wind magic while Joan produced a gravity field around her. Her rune was glowing brightly and slowly she increased the radius. Other items around them slowly ascended, orbiting the star that was Joan. The serene situation didn¡¯t last. The objects soon started to vibrate and fling themselves in opposite directions. Al could guide them away from major bodily appendages, and the two stopped their training.

    ¡°Keep practising. You will be amazed at what you can do.¡± He said, leaving that farewell.

    Quickly he returned to the armour, studying it more closely. He noted Joan leaving the room, likely to look for her brother. He was okay with it; Looking over his notes, refreshing his memory on what he had discovered.

    So far, the armour seems to be composed of a very unfamiliar complex alloy. It could be of magical construction, except it seemed far too fine to be a custom job. It reminded him of a production line churning these things out by the thousands. What exactly that suggested was a far more advanced manufacturing facility.

    It was possible that some far off advanced magocracy could have made it. But considering the downright medieval societies so far, that was unlikely. It was more than likely a culture that had a well-developed scientific and magical background constructed this. The hypothesis of an advanced vampiric society might ring true.

    This discovery reaffirmed his resolve to continue. The ruins of the ancient upire will need to be studied. If the answer he seeks does not lay within that ancient tomb. He will continue to the Wizard State of Ikarus.

    But for now, he has some strange technology to study. Spending nearly another hour on the armour and sword, filling several pages of notes. He closed his book, noticed his tea was empty, and recalled the request made by Alek. Not wanting to keep him waiting, he left the room. Passing through the hallway, politely waving at the women walking by.

    His thought turned to the skewed gender population of this castle. Recalling why they were originally here, he understood why. Distasteful was saying it mildly. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out why the bandits chose them.

    Eventually he found Alek and Felix, after getting directions from a nice girl named Angela. The pair were standing upon the battlements, their gazes set to the forest and the rising sun. They looked like a father and son duo, except they regarded each other in the reverse. Al wondered how that dynamic will go as time goes on. Will they become brothers, blood brothers, so to speak? Or will the elder always look down at the younger and see their creator? Questions for a later date.

    ¡°I hope I''m not interrupting.¡± Al interrupted.

    ¡°Not at all. We were just chatting.¡± Alek answered politely.

    Al nodded, waiting for a few seconds before speaking again.

    ¡°You had a magical problem you wanted me to look into?¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, it is quite a sensitive matter, but I hope you can help.¡±

    Al agreed, very curious what this sensitive matter was and so followed the pair. Felix left halfway, waiting to tour the castle and find his sister. Alek was glad of it, since his destination was the dungeon. The two descended into the bowls of the castle. They passed several iron cells. Al, being the curious sort, snuck a peek. What lay within were several moaning vampires, sprawled on the floor, wrapped in chains, and appeared to have lost a lot of blood.

    ¡°Friends of yours?¡± Al inquired.

    ¡°Former friends, they were beasts in life and keep that in death. We had to chain them down and bleed them. Less they ravaged the castle again.¡±

    ¡°Why not kill them?¡± He asked.

    ¡°I ask myself that very question. I have yet to find an answer.¡±

    With that, the subject died down to an awkward silence. The pair moved past the tableau and came upon a dead end. Initially confused, Al came to realisation when the vampire opened a secret entrance. A partition of the wall slid open, revealing a hidden room. The two entered, and the first thing Al noticed were the torture devices. Hung up on the side were whips, chains and all the odd accoutrements of a deranges mind. Closer inspection revealed their true purpose.

    ¡°I''m flattered, dude, but I don¡¯t swing that way.¡± He declared sarcastically.

    Discount Dracula stopped in his tracks, turning to his associate with a perplexed expression. Al gestured his chin towards the dungeon paraphernalia. Alek noted this and sighed softly, an act Al thought the undead couldn¡¯t perform.

    ¡°Yes, this place is a torture chamber. I have been meaning to clear it out.¡±

    Al chuckled softly, pointing at one whip and explained.

    ¡°This is a sex dungeon.¡±

    Upon that explanation, Alek¡¯s eyes widened, the realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes moved back and forth between the chains and the strange spears that were far too dull at the point.

    ¡°By the spirits, I need to apologise to Sara.¡± He blurted out, his eyes shifting to the inner room.

    ¡°Who¡¯s Sara.¡± Al asked, receiving no reply.

 Chapter 48 - The Doctor Is In

    Upon realisation of a certain room''s true purpose, a frantic vampire moved deeper into its bowels and profusely apologised to the single occupant. The single occupant met his sincere explanation and apology with flaming rage. This was not a metaphor, the lone figure, a woman, and likely the one known as Sara.

    She sat in the centre of the room, her body steaming and her surroundings properly scorched. She was pretty, at least from Al¡¯s perspective; it made her literally fiery temper appealing. If you were attracted to a Pyro whose frown could set you aflame. Her displeasure at the vampire''s interruption caused her to expel a gout of fire.

    Alek dodged it while Al just stood there, his eyes transfixed by the woman. What he was seeing was beyond the flesh. Without his magic glasses, he could still see magical forces with the naked eye. It was just harder to notice and required concentration. He didn''t need the glasses with her. Her body radiated energy, far more than humans should naturally possess.

    He could identify the energy pattern; it was spiritual. It reminded him of the fire worshippers, although they were candles compared to the volcano before him. The subject''s fire originated internally, not externally. The Order of Pyrus used a patron to mortal relationship to funnel power. This woman had an actual spirit within their body. Possession seemed like an excellent description.

    She shivered in place, shaking her head every so often. Muttering and blinking rapidly, she appeared very incoherent. Al stepped forward, keeping his distance. The surrounding radius, roughly a metre in diameter, was hot to the touch. He noted that the floor remained oddly impervious to the heat. There was magic all over this room. He would have liked to observe, but had other priorities.

    ¡°Can you help her?¡± Alek asked, almost pleaded.

    ¡°Possibly, but I will need some time.¡±

    ¡°Take all you need.¡±

    The two nodded, and Al went to work. With a cursory examination with magical sight, augmented by his glasses. He could infer the issue based on what he could see. Two vital forces existed within the same body. Every being has a magical signature. With his enchanted glasses, he could even tell people apart. Shifting to Alek, the black lines running through his body told the story of his nature. He was not alive, but animated, kept active by a type of magic that resembled necrotic energy.

    Two separate energies, fighting for control, composed the woman. They appeared to be gorging fires trying to consume each other. Possession was not his area of expertise, but he knew someone learned in these manners.

    ¡°I have to make a call. Will you watch over her?¡±

    The vampire titled his head, uncertain what he meant by making a call. Eventually, he nodded, accepting it as something related to magic. Al left the room, turning down the hallway towards a dead end. Activating his spell of communication, an ethereal figure appeared before him. It was Jasmine with her back to him. Her shoulders rose, and she spun around, acknowledging the presence.

    ¡°Mr Klark, what do I owe the pleasure of your call?¡±

    ¡°Please Jazz, call me Al or Alistair.¡±

    ¡°Mr Klark is sufficient.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself, but this isn''t a social call. I need to speak with Maligore. I would summon him, but he might be busy with his work.¡± He made air quotes to emphasise the point.

    ¡°The demon, I have not seen him lately. But he has been hanging around Peter. I would have to ask him.¡± She said, turning her head to acknowledge someone else''s presence.

    ¡°Who are you talking to?¡± A young boy''s voice asked.

    ¡°Speak of the devil, Peter. Do you know where that demon is? Maligore was his name.¡± She inquired, trying to ignore the question.

    ¡°Maligore is around. I can call him for you. But first things first, what is that?¡± Peter pointed at the strange shimmer next to her.

    Al regarded the unknown figure, entering the radius of the spell. It was indeed Peter, and he was clearly pointing at him. For a moment, he wondered how the boy could see him. He hadn''t studied the heroic trinity, as they were called. They were clearly a different order of summoned. Classifying the different types will come later. But one major difference is that they don¡¯t use magic. Peter is a spirit user, so he shouldn¡¯t be able to use or even detect magic.

    ¡°That¡¯s magic Jazz, at least I think it is. Has Elisara been teaching you stuff? If so, how are you ahead of me?¡± Peter asked, a little annoyed.

    The apparition nodded, which Peter recognised as a strange, magical blob. Al was smiling. Of course, just because they were blessed by the great spirits, doesn¡¯t mean they can''t learn some magic. One of the first lessons you learn is to perceive magical forces. If that is the case, Peter is on his way to becoming a wizard.

    Deciding it was time to lay his cards down, he tweaked the spell. The strange blob formed into a discernible figure. Peter¡¯s eyes widened at the sudden appearance of a ghostly figure. His first thought was holy crap, its Obi Wan, but he didn¡¯t say it out loud. He had been trying to keep his inner nerd from coming out. But being in a literal fantasy world, it was quite the chore. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Who¡¯s the ghost?¡± He barked.

    ¡°Not dead yet, dude. Names Alistair Klark, you can call me Al.¡± The apparition waved.

    ¡°So, who is this not-ghost named Al exactly?¡±

    ¡°That''s a long story, kid.¡± He sighed, recalling how long of a story it truly was.

    ¡°I''m not a kid.¡± Peter replied indignantly

    Both Jasmine and Al looked back at him dubiously. The teen shrunk back from the glare.

    ¡°Ok maybe I am a kid, but it feels reductive when adults say it.¡±

    ¡°Reductive, quite the vocabulary for a kid.¡±

    ¡°I read a lot. Now, is someone going to explain what''s going on with the Obi Wan wannabe?¡±

    ¡°OG Star Wars fan, have you seen the new movies?¡± Al asked, his eyes a light.

    ¡°Of course, dude, I was there in the cinema the first day. Heir to the Empire was epic.¡±

    ¡°Dude, live action Thrawn was the best. I know he is technically the bad guy. But I totally want him to win.¡±

    ¡°I know right.¡±

    The two then went on geeking out over Star Wars for a full ten minutes, discussing how Thrawn could effectively rule the galaxy. Jasmine stopped them, clearing her throat and glaring at them like they were wayward cats in need of herding.

    ¡°Children, the adults are talking.¡± Jasmine cut in, talking down to both a younger and an elder.

    ¡°Terribly sorry Mistress, young Master Peter and I were only chewing the fat.¡± He smiled cheekily.

    ¡°Chewing the fat?¡± Peter asked, perplexed.

    ¡°Old English idiom.¡± Al answered.

    ¡°Can we please move on?¡±

    The two chuckled, agreeing with smiles. Jasmine then explained who Al was, regularly checking with him to correct any misunderstanding.

    ¡°So let me get this straight. This guy is also a summoned hero, summoned to another world, not this one. He completed his heroic duties there and then returned to our world. Stuck around there for a few months and when it was our turn, he hitched a ride?¡± He explained, eyeing the two for confirmation.

    ¡°That''s pretty much it.¡± Al added.

    ¡°Does this mean there was magic back on earth?¡± Peter asked.

    ¡°That''s a good question, their might have been in the past. But currently there is no detectable magical field. The magic I brought over was all I could scrounge up for the trip. Like taking your GameBro charger and finding there are no outlets. So, you must run everything on battery and hope you don¡¯t run out.¡±

    ¡°That sucks.¡±

    ¡°You do not know, but all this is not what I came to discuss.¡± He turned to Jasmine and regarded her.

    ¡°I need to talk to Maligore. I can let you know how to summon him.¡±

    Nonchalantly requesting a demon, he waited for Jasmine¡¯s reply. She didn¡¯t even bat an eye, which he found comforting. Anything demonic terrified most people he met, especially on Matesh. Certain regions and nations had more tolerant views about them. But the consensus was disgust or fear.

    ¡°I can attempt such a procedure.¡± Shifting her gaze to Peter, she inquired about the demon''s position.

    ¡°Mal, oh, he left to go tend to the wounded. Not sure what wounded he was talking about. Maybe the wounded in the war.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what war?¡± He asked, deeply concerned.

    ¡°The invasion of the eastern plains by the United Realms of Lankos. Have you been living under a rock?¡± She explained, tilting her head in puzzlement.

    His hand slammed to his forehead and shook his head from side to side. The information he just received appalled and irritated him.

    ¡°Bloody damn medieval primitives. Can''t they not try to slaughter each other long enough for me to cross the border?¡± Shaking his head, he sighed.

    ¡°Fine, it''s okay. Ventus will be annoyed, but I can manage him. How is the war going, by the way?¡±

    The pair looked at each other for a moment before Jasmine explained. From Al''s perspective, Ventus'' worries did not involve a world war-type scenario. The Federation and the Empire were not actively at war. The vassal kingdom of Tarkon was being invaded by the United Realms of Lankos. It was a simple invasion to claim apparent ancestral territory.

    The war had started with an expected victory on the Lankosian¡¯s side. A large and formidable Lankosian army besieged and claimed the border forts. They were now supposedly planning a full-scale invasion of the eastern plains. Aresla was one of the several targets they expected to get hit. The Empire''s forces remain difficult to deploy until Helgos rejoins the Empire.

    ¡°Wait a second, Helgos seceded from the Empire. Rather ballsy of them.¡± Al added with a grin.

    ¡°Yeah, we had to jet before the stormtroopers could get us. Bailed through a portal and everything.¡±

    The two smiled, with Al humming the imperial march, Peter joining in a second later. Jasmine rolled her eyes, surrounded by nerds. It was something she had never considered being her future. After their geeking out calmed down, Al shifted back to the topic of Maligore.

    ¡°I can call for him. He said all I need to do is call his name and he will pop up like a genie.¡± Peter added.

    Al looked back at him, dubious. He recalled his past dealings with the demon. Never had he been so accommodating. He felt a tinge of jealousy, which was highly irrational.

    ¡°You can just call him up, just like that?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, he said I was his patient, and he wanted to check in.¡±

    ¡°Well, cool. Can you call him now? It''s kind of urgent.¡±

    Peter thought about it, nodding his head a second later. Calling out the demon''s name, a figure seemed to walk out from the space behind the boy. The teenager''s size concealed the figure, though it was much taller.

    ¡°Peter, my favourite patient. Have you reconsidered my offer to attach demonic horns surgically to your head?¡± The demon offered with a slick voice, tempting for anyone with a weak will.

    ¡°I think I will pass.¡± He answered.

    ¡°Oh come now, I can sweeten the deal, perhaps a prehensile tail or bat-like wings?¡±

    For a second, the young man seriously considered it, but quickly rejected. The demon shrugged before taking in his new environment. His demonic eyes affixed to the apparition. Grinning from ear to ear, as if his face would part.

    ¡°Al, what a pleasant surprise to see you, not so in the flesh.¡±

    ¡°Hey Maligore, I would love to go over the demonic pleasantries. But I got a medical mystery for you.¡±

    The demon''s eyes grew wide, his grin oddly wider. The look he gave Al made him shiver.

    ¡°Oh, Al, you offer the most intriguing of things. Tell me of this mystery.¡±

    ¡°But first, can you head over? You need to see it for yourself.¡±

    Maligore nodded, and the pair said goodbye to the heroes. It only took a little time for the demon to teleport over. The communication spell Al used gave him the perfect highway to travel. Appearing in the dungeon, the pair greeted each other in the flesh.

 Chapter 49 - Medical Mystery

    ¡°I have missed you, old friend.¡± He said, embracing the demon in a big hug.

    ¡°And I you, now show me this mystery.¡±

    The two pulled away and entered the secret room. Alek sat to the side, looking down at the muttering woman, concern etched on his face. His glance shifted to the demon, and for a moment, he was worried. Al assured him it was safe with a simple hand gesture, and he visibly calmed down.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± Al asked.

    Maligore thought for a moment, his eyes blazing with fire. The phenomena drew the attention of Alek, but Al had no issue. The staring went on for a few minutes before the fire died down. Turning to his friend, the demon pronounced his initial findings.

    "Something other than a resident of the Infernum possesses that human. I would have noticed that. It appears to be spiritual and quite similar to fire elementals I have encountered."

    ¡°Fire elemental, so they are struggling to claim the host body?¡± Al questioned.

    "Not exactly. Something damaged both life forces, preventing either from taking over or achieving equilibrium."

    ¡°So that means we have to either set them up as equals or purge one of them?¡±

    That idea caused Alek to tense. Al reassured him, stating they would only do that as a last resort. While the three discussed, Sara rose to her feet, screamed at the top of her lungs, and set the room on fire.

    Al and Alek fled to a safe distance, while Maligore seemed unbothered by the flames. Although the flames blistered and burned his body. Instead of screaming his lungs out, he seemed to find the sensation pleasurable. The fire went out, leaving the demon frowning. The fire scorched half his body, leaving his clothes and tools in tatters. Snapping his fingers, his apparel reformed, and a needle manifested in the raised palm. Injecting himself, the burnt skin rapidly healed to pristine skin.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since the fire burnt me. These spirits are curious creatures. I would love to take one apart to see how they tick.¡± The demon cackled.

    Waving his hand, a spell diagram glowed into existence beneath the woman. The fire rose again, breaking against the barrier. Suitably trapped, the demon began his work. Pulling a gnarled doctor''s bag from thin air. He reached his hand within, burying his arm all the way to the shoulder. Withdrawing several instruments and laying them neatly next to each other.

    Side by side, neatly aligned, was an eyeglass, stethoscope, bandages, blood pressure monitor, and a single thermometer. They appeared to be the typical instruments of a medical practitioner. Of course, that was only skin deep. In truth, they radiated infernal energies. The sickening aura was obvious to both the wizard and the vampire in attendance. The last piece of equipment he withdrew was a clipboard and pen.

    ¡°Under my oath as an infernal practitioner of the medicinal arts. I would like for you to agree to the appropriate medical treatment.¡± He waited a moment and received only grunts and screams.

    ¡°I shall take that as an agreement under the provisional rule for treatment administration, in the event of diminished mental faculties.¡± He explained, jotting down a few notes.

    What proceeded was the strangest medical examination, ever seen by mortal eyes. Alek, who lived in a medieval society all his life, saw it all as strange magic, beyond his comprehension. Al, however, noted it was a mixture of modern medical practises with weird demon magic he had a hard time figuring out. He used the instruments the way a typical doctor would. Only they somehow worked from a distance. He thought it was all for show until he noticed the infernal emissions.

    Once the procedure was complete, Maligore returned to the pair. Directing them outside for a private chat. Sara just remained in a daze, seated inside the diagram.

    ¡°Looks like a possession. Both spirits are damaged. So, neither can fully assume control of the body. The simple solution would be to expel one of them.¡± He suggested, thinking over the potential options.

    ¡°What if, instead of expelling one of them, we establish an equilibrium?¡± Al added, turning to Alek.

    ¡°You mentioned that the spirit was a weakened and formerly imprisoned fire elemental?¡±

    Alek nodded in confirmation.

    ¡°If that is the case, it could be possible to guide a union between the two spirits.¡± He suggested, concealing the gleam of curiosity.

    The idea was less for her benefit and more for his own interest. Of course, he cared for her wellbeing and believed this option was sound. But he couldn¡¯t deny the pull of experimentation.

    ¡°This could work. It would require strengthening the vessel. The two occupants would then need to come to an understanding. I could construct a runic diagram for vitality strengthening, telepathic communication and a basic protection spell.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Is this one of your flesh runes you harp on about?¡± Maligore asked.

    ¡°Rune Tattoos.¡± Al corrected.

    ¡°Will this help her?¡± Alek asked, worried.

    ¡°It is a sound plan, but it would also be a long-term process. You will need to tend to her. The change period should take a while.¡± The demon explained.

    With the trio in agreement, the demon and the wizard set about their tasks. Maligore stayed with both Alek and his patient. Monitoring her vitals and maintaining the barrier spell. Al left the sub level and re-entered the castle''s office room. Upon entering, he encountered the siblings floating above, simulating zero gravity on a world with definite gravity. They were hanging off each other in mid-air. The brother and sister were clasping hands as they levitated.

    ¡°I see you guys are having fun,¡± Al muttered, ignoring them and going straight for the desk.

    ¡°Look Al, I extended the magic to another. All I need to do is touch them and concentrate.¡± Jo explained excitedly.

    ¡°Congrats, just make sure you keep focus or...¡± Someone interrupted him as the two dropped with a dull thud.

    ¡°Ow my but,¡± Jo groaned in pain.

    ¡°Need that focus or you will drop like a sack of bricks. Now you guys play elsewhere. I have work to do.¡±

    The two nodded sheepishly before excitedly rising and exiting the room. No doubt they would levitate all over the castle. They would be the problem of the occupants and not his problem, at least for now. Withdrawing his journal, he sifted through the pages. Noting several rune diagrams, he started working on a composite rune.

    It took over an hour to etch out a prototype. It was some of his best work and should do the job. Being a composite diagram, it held similarities with other Runecraft spells. Vitality strengthening was a simple rune and used widely by Mateshian mages. They etched them on belts or rings. Their purpose was to provide an extra dose of stamina and strength. With certain kingdoms, they were standard issue amongst soldiers, allowing them to fight for longer than normal.

    A second addition was a protection charm, meant to defend against general influence by magical forces. The composite couldn¡¯t take anything more powerful, but if needed, they could inscribe a second rune of protection. The third addition was a rather complex rune of mind speak. They heavily altered it to allow spiritual communication. Its original purpose was mind-to-mind communication for physical beings.

    His study of the connection between himself and his spirit patron established the framework for the new spell. Once done, after a few hours of work put in, he headed back to his associates. Entering the secret room a few minutes later.

    ¡°Mal, look at this diagram.¡± He offered the torn page to the demon.

    Looking over the arcane working, the demon grinned far larger than humanly possible. Cackling madly, he caressed the paper with a mad glint in his eye.

    ¡°Good, this shall do nicely; it will be a lengthy process for the patient. I will supervise the procedure, if you will have mem vampire lord.¡± Directing his words towards Alek, the vampire was initially confused.

    ¡°Of course, Sir Maligore, you may stay as long as you need.¡± The flustered vampire replied.

    ¡°It¡¯s just Maligore, no need for the honorifics, besides my correct titles are too long for pleasant conversation.¡±

    Alek nodded, accepting the request to be informal. The trio cast their gazes at the sleeping women. It seemed she had fallen into slumber. Laying on the ground in the fetal position, scorched surroundings, she slept soundly.

    ¡°You should know my method of etching; I would suggest imprinting the diagram on her back. With time and therapy, she should recover enough to contact her passenger. Once that is done, I would suggest making some sort of deal. Considering the situation, it is likely the spirit will accept. If that doesn¡¯t work, Mal here will perform an exorcism as a last resort.¡±

    ¡°Oh, the irony.¡± The demon chuckled.

    ¡°I know it would be weird, but hopefully, the first method works. And with that, I bid you both a good day.¡± He turned to leave, waving to Alek.

    ¡°You should see us off. Felix will want to say goodbye.¡± He suggested.

    The two left the dungeon and headed towards the surface. After some searching and querying two women, they found the siblings in the courtyard, walking on air. Upon seeing Al, they quickly descended, far more fluidly than before.

    ¡°It¡¯s time we leave. I have just learned that a war is going on and if we don¡¯t make it to Aresla. We will instead come upon a city occupied.¡± Al explained, deadpan.

    ¡°What do you mean, a war?¡± Jo asked, visibly disturbed.

    ¡°The Empire is at war with Lankos and as a cherry on top, Helgos rebelled.¡±

    The siblings'' eyes widened, not expecting the news, set upon such a grand scale. The chaos they imagined as war descended upon the land made them quiver. Al wasn¡¯t blind to the effect of his words and so tried to placate.

    "It¡¯s not as bad as it sounds. From what I heard, Helgos is in an excellent position to secede relatively easily. Lankos are mostly invading to reclaim territory. I''m sure the three nations will resolve this all with a meeting and a peace agreement."

    ¡°Now say your goodbyes. We need to head towards Aresla immediately.¡±

    With his ultimatum, Jo hugged her brother and went to gather the horses. Alek had his people hand over extra provisions for the trip. Half an hour later, they were outside, saddled and ready to go. Before they left, Felix stood before his creation, like a child looking up at an adult. Feeling awkward, Alek lowered himself to eye level. It took a little. Felix was small for his age, but not tiny.

    "It seems we are to part ways. I just wanted to say thank you for this second chance. I doubt that my former self deserved anything more than a sword in the gut and being dumped into a pit."

    ¡°That¡¯s who you were, not who you are now.¡± Felix stated firmly.

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty mature for a kid.¡± Alek chuckled soft heartedly.

    ¡°I''ve had to grow up, never had time to be a kid.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, me too, but I hope you make time for it. Just because the world wants us to mature far earlier than a kinder one. Doesn¡¯t mean we should forsake it. Make time and be a kid. That¡¯s all this vampire can ask for.¡±

    The young vampire nodded, smiling. He felt a tug in his chest, not quite sadness but a sense of impending loss. But the boy knew that his creation needed to leave him. He had his own life to lead and promises to keep. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around the man, gripping him.

    Initially flustered, Alek hesitated, unsure if he should reciprocate. He thought back to the man he was before and all the things he had done. Those memories had haunted him the moment they came pouring out of the dark abyss that was his soul. He wondered if he even had one, now that he was dead. Despite that, the warmth of this boy''s acceptance made him think there was still light in this world. That no matter what he had become, if his creator cared for him, he would carry on. Be the man he should have been, now that he has eternity to achieve.

 Chapter 50 - Aresla

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    The trio left the castle and spent several days on the road. Calling it an actual road was an overstatement, more akin to a well-travelled dirt path. The travel was long and arduous. It gave Al some memories he would prefer to forget. He longed for earth and all the technological amenities. But he was not on that planet and had to slog through the medieval society.

    ¡°They have literal magic, yet they neglect to build better roads.¡±

    The city was smaller than he expected. Apparently, it was a fortress city, which made sense since it bordered Lankos. Being in Tarkonian land, it served as a garrison point for soldiers. Located south of the mountain range of Nosfera and north of the eastern plains. It would be a prime target for capture. Any opposing force with this city in hand will have a useful beach head for invasion.

    Of course, any idiot warlord can take a city. If these Lankosians were smart, they would take the city, enslave or coerce the populace to keep production going. With the city, they could supply any army crossing into the plains. With the rebellion of Helgos, Tarkon will probably not have as much help from the Empire. So Aresla will be on its own, especially since the Lankosian invasion force is so large.

    These thoughts crossed the mad wizard''s mind as they entered the city. Despite the potential threat, commerce was still in effect. Al and the siblings could enter through the western gate. Using his guild identity as part of the Wizarding Union. He knew that would come in handy and smirked as the guards let them in without a fuss.

    Thankfully, the city wasn¡¯t under siege yet and they likely still had time. But considering the state of the war, the Lankosians will get to the city in due time.

    ¡°We should head straight to Guild, assuming they haven''t left already.¡± Al suggested.

    The two nodded, and after a full hour of getting crappy directions from three separate people. They made their way into the Guild district. Unlike Helgos, whom had the various guilds scattered throughout the city. Aresla had all its guild buildings in one central location. The proximity of several cooperative organisations built up quite the surrounding economy.

    The Guild district was more akin to a merchant market, then a business district. Turning a corner, they found themselves in a courtyard. Surrounding an ornate fountain was a mess of merchant tents and customers. The fountain was interesting, a mermaid statue pouring water from a jar. He hadn''t encountered mermaids in Matesh and wondered if he could have the time to study one here.

    Eyeing the statue, he noted the typical form of a mermaid. Beautiful female form with a fish half at the bottom. He always wondered why people sexualised mermaids, considering sex would be next to impossible. Unless they dropped their paints and fertilised some eggs. He wondered if that''s how people created half-mermaids. Not exactly a romantic outing.

    Passing through the merchant area, the siblings were astonished. They hadn''t the time to check out the markets on Helgos. But the sight of so many people and vendors was a marvel to them. They spent most of their lives in the slums of the empire. They had vague memories of marketplaces but had never gone to one. This place put the previous town market to shame.

    The two turned to Al with puppy dog eyes. Both of them casting a cuteness spell right at him. Unfortunately, it was more effective than he expected. Nodding, he let them explore. It wasn¡¯t a bad idea, since he planned to visit the Explorer¡¯s Collective. Ensuring his participation in the exploration mission would guarantee safe travel north.

    Casting his gaze across the cacophony of voices and mercantile interests. He spotted the Explorers building; the sign had a rolled-up scroll gripped by a hand. Beneath the sign, someone had written "Explorers Collective." He still marvelled at how he could read the language. The summoning ritual seemed to have downloaded the local language into his brain.

    It was way better than the Mateshian ritual. He had to learn the language. Took two months to read, write and converse naturally. Shaking his head, he went straight for the door. Before he could lay hands on the door, it opened abruptly. Moving back a step, a towering figure emerged. Flanked by a familiar woman, the pair stared, dumbfounded, at Al.

    ¡°James?¡± Al spoke suddenly.

    ¡°By the spirits, is that you Al?¡± His former companion asked, equally surprised.

    The three were stunned, which set them to blocking the door. Only pulled out of the stunned silence when another person cleared their throat. Realising they were holding up traffic, the three entered the guild hall. The Explorer¡¯s Collective was a typical wooden building, with several receptionist desks and various tables scattered about. On the walls were massive ornate maps outlining the continent, broken into segments. On the left was the western region, the right depicted the eastern region. The rightmost map was less detailed, particularly in the northern area.

    Seated around one of the empty tables, the three discussed their situations. James, along with Sally cutting in a few times, explained how they escaped Helgos. They were in the markets when the first attack occurred. Chaos descended on the city with riots, looting, and general mayhem. They escaped through the western gate after wading through many rioters.

    "We tried to find you three at the inn. When we got there, you were nowhere to be found. However, someone scorched your room." Sally said.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a long story, but we got out before the chaos got too bad,¡± Al deflected, not entirely sure about their religious beliefs.

    ¡°That¡¯s good. James was beside himself with worry.¡± She said cheekily, getting a glare from her companion.

    ¡°We really didn¡¯t want to leave for the north without you. But we are under contract, so you getting here just in time shall be a boon. Our group''s wizard has pulled out from the venture.¡±

    ¡°I''m not surprised. He was Helgosian and likely fled,¡± James added.

    ¡°Yeah, I heard they rebelled, right when the invasion occurred. Quite convenient.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think Helgos would work with Lankos. They have just as much animosity as Tarkon.¡± James explained, folding his arms.

    ¡°But aren''t they ally of the Wizard State? They were former Helgosians a long time ago.¡± Sally asked.

    ¡°Allies is a strong word, Sally; they are semi-independent members of the Federation and have had their own conflicts with Lankos. Especially with the rise of the demihuman-supremacist movement.¡±

    ¡°You''re talking about those Legion guys that attacked us?¡± Al inquired, recalling the time he blasted them with magic.

    ¡°Those are more like the believers, not the rumoured organisation itself.¡±

    The three nodded, worried about the future. Concerned with the path before them, the threat of invasion and the treacherous location they planned to travel.

    ¡°Perhaps we should talk about the expedition.¡± Al shifted the subject.

    ¡°Yes, so far it is still on track. With your presence, we should be able to convince them to not cancel the whole thing.¡±

    ¡°Are wizards very important for such ventures?¡±

    ¡°They are, the snobbish bastards have their uses. No offence Al.¡± Sally added with some distaste.

    ¡°None taken.¡± He waved off her comment.

    Before they could continue, a figure approached. He was old, in his mid-fifties and wearing a brown robe with the insignia of the Explorers Collective. The conical glasses slipping slowly off his hooked nose, he adjusted before arriving at the table. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°The guild is still debating, James. Without a wizard, they don¡¯t want to take the chance.¡± He said in a raspy voice.

    ¡°Well, you''re in luck Edward. A wizard has arrived.¡± He gestured to Al.

    The scholar shifted his gaze to Al, noting his appearance and the odd runic work covering his arms. Glaring dubiously at the unfamiliar wizard, Al saw his opportunity and seized it. Withdrawing his wizarding union credentials and displaying them. Still dubious, the scholar noted it was a relatively recent addition. Before he could say anything, Al manifested a tiny tornado in his palm, presenting it to the sceptical scholar.

    Al knew this was not actually wizardry and was quite curious if the scholar could notice. He did not and took this power as wizardry. Whether he was unfamiliar with spirit magic or thought such powers were only for the priests. Regardless, he accepted the magic as a fact and traipsed back to his cohorts.

    The explorers sat at an adjacent table. Murmuring and pointing at each other, a few angry or perhaps bitter. Whatever the returning Edward said seemed to placate them. Especially when he pointed out Al, they visibly brightened.

    ¡°That looks like a good sign,¡± Sally said while grinning.

    What followed was dull paperwork and the minutia of guild bureaucracy. In the end, the guild restarted the expedition and assigned its new passengers to the leaving caravan. Luckily, they arrived when they did, as the expedition was leaving within the hour. The delays and the rumours of conflict made them eager to escape a city that might be subject to a siege.

    Quickly, Al retrieved the siblings. They were eyeing a stall filled with magical artefacts. The merchant claiming, they were a necessity for any proper lady. Al wanted to inspect them, but had to leave far earlier than expected. The three gathered their possessions and horses and met up with the caravan with only ten minutes to spare.

    ¡°We thought you would not make it.¡± James joked from atop his own horse.

    Riding beside him, Al chuckled. Expanding on the time to capture the misplaced youths. Upon joining the expedition, they learned that the local wizards had scryed the area. No Lankosian forces approached the city, and their course remained safe for now.

    Several hours of travel said otherwise. Following a short trek up a hill, they came upon a pleasant view of the plains. What appeared before them were expansive pastures and a few small villages dotting the landscape. These villages were small farmsteads, meant to raise cattle and horses. Instead of the lush environment, they found burning villages and a marching army.

    ¡°How is this possible? The wizards scried this location. It was free of invasion.¡± One scholar said, aghast.

    ¡°Scry spells are not infallible. There are methods to subvert them. And look at the smoke. Some process tempers it. This army is employing mundane and magical tactics to conceal their advance. No doubt Areslan scouts will come upon the army soon.¡± Al explained, his focus locked on the camped army.

    ¡°What should we do?¡± Another man said, scared out of his wits.

    ¡°First, we need to warn the city and then stage a distraction, yes that should allow us to slip by,¡± the wizard suggested, more to himself than the others.

    ¡°We can send a rider back.¡± Someone else suggested.

    ¡°No need. I can handle warning the city and the distraction. Just be ready for my signal, which will be the army freaking out.¡±

    Before anyone could brook an argument, the wizard abruptly ascended. The air current whipped into a frenzy around him.

    ¡°Felix Jo, stay with the caravan. I''ll be back.¡± He said before rising into the air.

    He flew at great speeds; the wind howling around him. Luckily, he remembered to construct a wind barrier, less he dines on the fine cuisine of insects. Travelling at such speeds, he made the trip in record time, landing just outside the western gate. Performing a superhero landing, agitating the poor gate guards.

    Approaching them casually, he tried using the power of his words to explain. Eloquently forming the most adept and skilful explanation of the dire threat. It took some time, but he sent the warning far up the chain to summon a wizard. Al found it odd they relied on magic, considering the general perspective on the practice. Then again, that was the consensus of imperial subjects. Aresla was quite multicultural, with people from Tarkon, Helgos and Judica.

    ¡°You say there is an army. Strange our scrying spells reveal not a thing.¡± The haughty wizard proclaimed.

    From a brief inventory, the man was stuck up and clearly more of an academically inclined practitioner of magic. Al had met wizards of this calibre before. They invested heavily in magic, convinced it was a divine and infallible art. Once sufficiently powerful, they swore to the heavens that they could do no wrong and everyone else was beneath them.

    Shaking his head, he had a terrible idea. He hadn''t used the strength-augmenting rune tattooed on his side in months. He had made some slight modifications based on his research so far. It was a simple rune and modifications went smoothly. He considered the rest of his runes complicated.

    Stepping up to the disbelieving man, Al sought to educate him. Grabbing him in a bear hug, he launched into the air. The trip didn¡¯t take long, he only needed to traverse far enough to see the army. The wizard sputtered and cursed the whole way. He was at a loss for words the moment he noticed the army. Leagues of soldiers stretched across a massive area, camped and ready. The enemy reduced the villagers who once grazed the area to ash and now occupy the land.

    Sufficiently informed, Al picked up the tiny man and sped him to the gate. Coming back to the guards, having multiplied and on high alert. They barely got out their demands before the wizard screamed about an invading army.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s my job done.¡± Al said in between the wizard''s screams.

    Giving a salute, confusing the poor guards with the unfamiliar gesture, Al ascended to the sky. Flying, he thought about what he should do. Distracting an entire army is a first for him. He had fought in a war, but the scale was substantially smaller.

    Landing on a small hill, he surveyed the army, hoping they didn¡¯t have a scry spell locked onto him. Sitting down, he thought and thought, casually spinning a tiny tornado in his palm. Oddly, the act relaxed him. Half an hour went by and two ideas later, such as setting stuff on fire and flying around, waving his hands. His gaze shifts to the tornado clutched in his palm.

    Grinning from ear to ear, he had a dastardly idea. Rising to his feet, he looked around, sensing something he had ignored for most of his adventure in this world. The presence of wind spirits, the anthropomorphic elementals that made this world a bane to all scientists. But to those that could communicate with them and a general knowledge of science. They were a potent weapon of disaster.

    Sitting down in lotus position, because why the hell not? He focused his mind, drawing every wind spirit in the immediate vicinity. Gathering a clump of them in his palm, he quietly whispered. It was an idea he had. Since they were more alive than the non-sentient oxygen of his world. These little blobs of possibility could become so much more.

    Instructing the spirits he set them to task, they gathered their fellows and began circulating each other, creating a small but noticeable up draft. As they spun in a glorious little dance, others of their kind joined in. Some need to be herded like cats, gathered with a few waves of a hand. Slowly but surely, the air current picked up.

    It was not a simple task; it required intense focus to keep the spirits on task. Their own interest whisked them away like the wind. Over time, he convinced several of them to perform a select function. Then pass on these instructions to any spirit in proximity.

    The result of his hard work was an impressively sized air funnel linked to a cumulus cloud just above. The wind shear was getting heavy, so he had to suspend himself in the air to avoid being sucked in. He cackled madly, purely taken with the moment. He felt like Victor Frankenvon when he raise the dead.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± A familiar voice spoke next to him.

    Startled, Al abruptly turned to find Ventus, in his humanoid form, glaring down with smoky eyes.

    ¡°Nothing much, just chilling.¡± Al answered causally as a tornado raged beside him.

    ¡°That does not look like chilling. In fact, how do you even know how to do that? Past heroes were incapable of such a feat, which is why we summon you mortals.¡±

    ¡°Wait! You summon mortals, bless them with phenomenal cosmic power, and expect them to be weak as piss?¡± He asked, dumbfounded.

    ¡°Not weak, just not this powerful. How are you doing this?¡± Ventus inquired, somehow creating an air funnel between the two, allowing for conversation despite the massive wind shear.

    ¡°It¡¯s just basic science and instructing those little spirits to task.¡± Al shrugged.

    ¡°This is most concerning. We will have to rethink summoning champions from your world.¡±

    ¡°Or just grab dumb people.¡± Al added with a chuckle.

    Raising his palms, he pushed the tornado forward, sending it hurtling into the army. He could already see many of the soldiers sounding alarmed and causing a ruckus.

    ¡°Is this your plan to end the war? Destroy one army after the other?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. This is just the distraction and a little havoc on their supplies.¡± He answered, offended by the spirit''s insinuation of systematic mass murder.

    The spirit somehow flashed a look of dubious disbelief. The human facial expressions he conjured were getting quite good.

    ¡°Alright then, what is your plan to end this war before it brings chaos to the entire continent?¡±

    ¡°Well, that was a stumper, I will admit. But it got my creative juices flowing. Now tell me, my fellow wind sprite, what can convince two sides in a war to put aside their grievances and make peace?¡±

    ¡°I assume that was a rhetorical question?¡± Ventus asked.

    ¡°Right you are. In answer, it¡¯s fear, my boy. Fear of a greater threat, a third party that makes both sides wet themselves.¡± Al explained with a smile as he casually glances at the chaos his tornado was causing.

    Soldiers fleeing and screaming, an entire supply caravan, and a campsite sent to the troposphere. The destruction sent them fleeing like rats from a genocidal fumigator.

    ¡°Fear? Do you mean fear of us? Because that will not go well. There is an understanding that if we spirit uses our full power, the federation will summon demons to contend with us.¡± The spirit revealed.

    ¡°Demons, you say, how can they be much of a threat?¡±

    ¡°Arch demons, my boy, they will summon those walking disasters.¡±

    ¡°Oh my, that is quite scary. Perhaps that even tops my plan.¡± Al stated, genuinely concerned.

    ¡°And that plan is?¡±

    ¡°Why vampires, of course, I¡¯m going to scare the pants off everyone with the revival of the blood sucking overlords of night.¡± He answered the wind spirit''s question with a movement grin, in stark contrast to the screams of the fleeing army.

 Chapter 51 - A Military Response

    ¡°Repeat that last report to me again.¡± General Grey-Tusk ordered his demonic cohort.

    The boar-kin were in a spartan-esque tent, with a simple wooden chair and a table supporting a grand map of the territory. The demon was a tiny thing, shorter than a five-year-old pup. Red-skinned, horned, and with two stubby wings, the demon spoke in its slippery snake like tone.

    "Yes, master, a tornado devastated the third army."

    The general waited patiently for the pesky little creature to elaborate. He did not. It was an unfortunate side effect of using demons as messengers. They were very literal beings, only acting when ordered. To a general, this would make them ideal soldiers. Of course, as messengers, it made them difficult to handle.

    ¡°Could you elaborate further?¡±

    ¡°Of course, master, scouts detected a tornado. Disaster befell the war camp with glorious screams of fear and terror. They request orders now they have retreated to a safe distance.¡± The little demon explained after some prompting.

    "Send back an order to retreat and regroup with the second army. We are cancelling the Aresla invasion."

    The demon gave a sloppy Lankosian salute, fist to his chest, and vanished in a gout of fire. As the smoke settled, a robed figure entered, gliding in. Despite the demonic appearance concealed under the hood, the terrible demon smiled warmly.

    ¡°You are giving up on the siege of Aresla?¡± He inquired.

    ¡°No, just postponing it. If the enemy will start throwing tornadoes at us. We should speed up operations before they become commonplace.¡±

    ¡°I doubt they can send such disasters with any repetition; Ventus is surely not that powerful.¡±

    ¡°You believe this is Ventus doing, the spirit lord of the wind. I had heard he was strictly neutral after he left the Empire.¡±

    ¡°It is mere speculation, but a likely culprit considering his power. But without proof it was his doing, the federation cannot intervene.¡± The demon explained.

    ¡°I hadn''t expected them to, besides Aresla is no major loss. The city would make a strategic staging ground. But with how far we have advanced, it is not a necessity. Monitor the city and we will move on.¡±

    The General gave his command to the demon, and the monstrous entity saluted. Turning his gaze back to the map, he assessed the territory. The map depicted the eastern plains, several figurines of castles and cities dotted the landscape. Four castles and two cities, two of the castles sported a red flag while the rest had blue.

    ¡°The territory so claimed is only half, but we are making good time. The eye in the sky gives us a distinct advantage, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± He spoke to the empty tent, expecting a reply.

    ¡°Glad to be of service, General.¡± A voice whispered.

    ¡°Continue your operations. As we move into the plains, the enemy will start deploying cavalry. Keep the infantry updated. We cannot let them flank us.¡±

    ¡°Yes, General.¡± The voice answered before the sound of a footstep receded.

    Nodding, he played with the city figurine for a moment. Inspecting the impressively detailed carving, it felt like he held the enemy''s capitol in his palm. The campaign had a few issues, but mostly it had gone to plan. They would soon possess the plains, and they would strike a blow against the empire.

    ¡°Send him in.¡± He ordered, casting his commanding voice out of the tent''s entrance.

    His adjutant entered shortly after, saluted and remained at attention. Despite his youth, the boy was capable. Not that boar-kin really had many expressions to begin with.

    ¡°Sit.¡± He commanded.

    The young officer did so, seating himself carefully opposite his commander. Hiding his nervousness, he always kept the mask of professionalism. Being the adjutant of such a veteran and revered general, it was hard not to be intimidated. Even more so, his superior tended towards the more casual in private.

    The General produced a bottle of wine and two glasses, gingerly pouring a decently sized alcoholic beverage. He pushed the second glass to his even more nervous subordinate. Hesitating as if he would lose a hand, the adjutant carefully raised the glass.

    ¡°What do you think of the war so far?¡± The General abruptly ask, while the adjutant was in mid-sip.

    Gulping the rest of the wine, he took a deep, calming breath. His thoughts rattled around as the wine suddenly kicked in. It was far stronger than expected. He hoped after finishing a few, he wouldn¡¯t embarrass himself.

    ¡°It is going far easier than expected. We expected far greater resistance from the men. We have almost claimed most of the eastern plains.¡± He spoke frankly.

    ¡°Correct, minus the tornado and abandoning the siege to Aresla. The campaign is going remarkably well.¡±

    The sudden confusion made the adjutant blink rapidly. Looking over his memories like spinning back a reel of parchment. He came upon the specific memory and took a double take.

    ¡°Tornado, General.¡± He inquired hesitantly.

    ¡°Yes, someone threw a tornado at our army. Luckily, there were only minor casualties. We suspect it should deter us and damage supplies.¡± The boar man said casually, as if he was talking about the weather. Here, he kind of was.

    ¡°By the ancestors, what if the empire deploys such a weapon again?¡±

    "Unlikely, also there is no guarantee it was the Empire. Only Ventus could have displayed that power, and he is no longer their patron spirit. Regardless, we must continue with the campaign. We must secure the plains."

    Acknowledging the necessity of this war, the two nodded. His success in the campaign he commanded, his men''s steadfast loyalty, and the casualties they suffered will all have been for nothing. The General thought on the future of this war, what it would mean for the future of his nation and the continent at large.

    The federation would expand and, given the instability of the empire, their side would have a clear advantage. To any military beast, they would consider pressing that advantage. But the General knew better than to overextend his reach. Claiming the plains was one thing, but conquering the empire was another.

    ¡°The plains will be a useful bit of territory; I know the higher ups will turn it into a buffer state. The Empire is falling to ruin, but everyone knows, it is the wounded animal the strikes the hardest.¡±

    Settling in their chairs, they drank their wine and exchanged pleasantries. It was a quaint moment just before a war that would see many die. Taking the plains was one thing, but to strike the enemy before they can resist was entirely another.

    ¡°I dislike this plan, although I see the merit. We must deal with the Empire, even if it risks their wrath. We cannot let this chance go, but can our nation deal with the consequences?¡± He spoke more to himself than to his companion.

    Before his adjutant could reply, another appeared, a soldier draped in the armour of Lankos.

    ¡°General, the army is ready to march.¡±

    With that, the pleasantries ended, and the war will continue.

    On the other side of the conflict, the brave soldiers of Tarkon made ready their defences. Provisions and troops supplied their fortress. Archers maned the walls, infantry was in excess. The remaining peasants escaped death by fleeing to the walls as refugees.

    Given hope, their king would triumph, and the heroic trinity would smite the enemies of man. In truth, frustration gripped the king. The situation was not as he planned. He was making the best of it and if Pyrus willed it, he would come out if it with a kingdom intact.

    Dwelling in the war room, the king was alone. Instead of seated, he was standing. A pensive expression on his ashen face. Upon the table was a map of the region. What it depicted was a sorry sight for any defensive campaign. Losing territory was nearly the entire region once claimed by his father. The king recalled the age before his reign, when his father ruled not as efficiently as a king should. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    His majesty King Rodrik of Tarkon was not a very intelligent man. Andre remembered how his beast of a father would prefer the company of whores over his own ministers. One night, the king even invited some ladies of the night to an actual council meeting. Andre was a young man, and it took every ounce of willpower not to chuckle at the poor minister.

    While the short, pudgy nobleman gave an accounting of the taxes. His father was fondling a high-priced whore, right on the throne. To add insult to injury, the queen had to sit there, prim and proper, through the entire ordeal. One could superficially consider this an insult to her honor. In truth, Andre¡¯s mother had checked out of their marriage years ago. His antics didn¡¯t faze her anymore, and he was less a husband and a more co-ruler, a poor excuse of one.

    His mother practically ran the nation, with constant interferences from petty nobles and her husband''s foolish whims. Amazingly, his mother kept the nation intact while he was drunk in charge. Despite her efforts, the kingdom''s economy fell into a depression. The debt held by their neighbouring nation of Helgos was far too large to pay back.

    The peasants starved, and economic and civil instability engulfed the land. His father''s solution was, of course, a foolish gambit that solved the problem and created new ones. He declared war on the plainsmen. Beast-kin tribes that had yet to join the United Realms of Lankos.

    It was a bloody campaign, emaciated soldiers fought Centaurs that ruled these lands. It was only a success when the emperor finally intervened, sending troops following a consolidation of his power. The imperial capital had a succession crisis. Andre forgot what it was all about. A few rumours claimed the prince was not worthy because of his lacking skill with spirit magic. Some claimed he wasn¡¯t even the emperor''s son and that the empress had been unfaithful.

    Finally, they pacified and claimed the plains. They built new farmlands on the blood and guts of beasts. They dealt with the economic situation after the influx of excess grain. By eradicating hunger, the queen paid off most of the debts. The king, however, died during the campaign, not in noble battle nor leading the charge into a hopeless melee. The mighty king of Tarkon, fell off his horse and broke his neck. He had attempted to make love to one of his whores while riding.

    Practice, Andre suspected, as he always assumed his father would try to screw whores while killing beast-kin. They were two of his favourite things to do and why not try both at the same time? Andre chuckled; the memories of his father always brought a grin. He didn¡¯t hate him; he was what he was. If he would ever consider despising his father, it would have been during the early years of his infidelity.

    The parade of women hurt his mother. It took many years for her to cut out her love for the philandering king. Ending the possibilities of the marriage being anything more than political. Andre loved his mother for that. She did what had to be done for the sake of the kingdom. To not let petty things like emotion impede ruling.

    In that moment, he knew he had to be as strong as his mother. The plains were never theirs to begin with, no matter how many minor barons whined about their lost land. Defending such a wide territory was foolish to begin with. His people were not men of the steppes, they were hardy warriors that marched cleanly and fought brutally.

    ¡°With all that martial prowess, we can barely defend our lands. Forcing us to retreat behind study walls. My father would turn in his grave at the cowardice.¡± He muttered to himself, leaning over the map.

    There he waited, staring at the map as if he could discern answers within the depictions of rivers and mountains. Casting his gaze back and forth between a grouping of flags. He noted the army had expected each ambush attempt. The cavalry he had ordered to harass the army were counter attacked before they even arrived. Archers strategically placed by the enemy cut them down when camped.

    It was as if the enemy knew exactly where all their forces were. He suspected traitors feeding information to the other side. But after executing several proven traitors, he noted all of them combined could not have achieved this. They were simple traitors for coin, selling information to unknown brokers. He had several suspected spies under observation, but even those were minor in the grand scheme of this war.

    A faint whisper reached his ear before he can delve deeper into his thoughts. The torches, strategically set in equal intervals on the walls, suddenly ignite in flame. Startled for only a moment, the king, without hesitation, draws his sword. Pulling the blade cleanly from its sheath.

    The weapon rose into a guard position. Reflecting off the odd black blade, the flames glistened. Obsidian, not tempered steel, formed the weapon. The king seemed to wield darkness itself, concentrated to a point and ready to strike.

    ¡°No need for hostility. I just want to chat.¡± The voice said calmly.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°You know me. How could you not?¡± The voice answered.

    ¡°I know an intruder when I hear one. Invisibility spell perhaps, some wizard assassin sent by Ikarus?¡±

    ¡°I take offence to that, little Andre.¡±

    The moniker caused the king¡¯s eyes to widen; visions flashed across his adult mind, pulling him back to his childhood. The faint memories of a voice he had nearly forgotten. The time he played with the fire that wouldn¡¯t burn him. Many children would shriek and flee from its cruel, biting touch. But not him, for he was immune to the pain, free of the searing desires it held within.

    ¡°Lord Pyrus.¡± He said simply, his sword dipping low.

    ¡°You remember me? How nice.¡± The voice replied insipidly.

    ¡°You are hard to forget. I always wondered why the mighty Pyrus, Lord of the Sacred Flame and Master of Fire, would visit a young prince.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why I wouldn¡¯t. You are a prince of a great kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Flattery, rather odd from someone more than mortal. Even if I am of royal blood, I''m hardly worthy of a spirit lord''s attention.¡± He said, half mocking, half humble.

    ¡°You sell yourself short, King of Tarkon. I have always favoured your kingdom, as your kingdom has favoured me.¡±

    ¡°I will admit I had a hand in a few matters of the temples. But I had nothing to do with the promotion of your worship.¡± The king bowed slightly, noticing one flame burned brighter.

    ¡°It is to be expected that mortals praise beings beyond them. The foolish fishmongers of Sylvan have seen fit to raise up my sister, to the halls of the gods.¡± The flame nearly spat, clear disdain upon every note.

    "Is this something you desire? If I could offer aid, I would happily promote such worship."

    The fire cackled madly, with every bout of laughter, the fire spat tiny red sparks. Once done, the fire elemental, born of the sacred flame, calmed to burning embers.

    ¡°Perhaps I shall take you up on that offer. But for now, I merely have a suggestion.¡±

    Andre narrowed his eyes, eminently curious about what such a being could suggest.

    ¡°One of my flock. He had met his end at the hands of these filthy beasts. He died valiantly, in defence of his patron. I suggest using that to motivate the men when the beasts are at your doorstep.¡± The flame suggested, and the king nodded.

    ¡°But first, a gift. A small token of my appreciation for all your efforts.¡±

    Confused, Andre tilted his head in puzzlement. Realisation soon dawned on him. His chest slowly radiated heat. In a moment it was as comforting as the embrace of a woman, the next it burned like liquid fire. Screaming at the top of his lungs, the king tore at his chest, ripping away his tunic. Just as the guards flooded in, called by the howl of their liege. The king knew the true extent of the pain.

    Left upon his chest was a brand seared into flesh. Depicting a glyph, any spirit magi worth his salt would recognise. A fist engulfed in flames, the symbol of Pyrus. To some, it is the symbolic representation of his spiritual lordship over the element. To others, it is the divine representation of a wrathful fire god.

    ¡°Sire, what has happened?!¡± one guard bellowed, the rest drew swords.

    ¡°I''m fine.¡± The king replied, wheezing in pain.

    He covered the brand quickly, not letting even his own guards see it. He wonders why he did that, but didn¡¯t linger on it. Soon after, he played the whole thing off as burning his tongue on hot tea. Conveniently, there was a steaming beverage nearby.

    ¡°Sire, are you sure you are, okay?¡± One of the royal knights asked, just as the rest left the room.

    The king had ordered privacy, but one knight remained, despite the order. Willing and able to accept punishment for defiance, the knight remained. Standing so still he might as well be a statue, the knight waited for a reply. Minutes passed before the king realized he needed to respond.

    "I am fine, Sir Kellig. No need to worry." The king waved off the concern.

    ¡°Permission to worry, sire?¡± The knight requested, keeping a stone face.

    ¡°You may do so.¡±

    The knight nodded before thrusting his chin towards his monarch''s chest. Unlike the others, he had spotted the faint trace of smoke and blistering flesh. Andre noted his loyal man''s interest and so untied his tunic, revealing his chest.

    ¡°What is it, sire?¡±

    ¡°A blessing, or perhaps a curse, from our glorious patron.¡± The king replied sarcastically.

    ¡°Lord Pyrus did this to you?¡± He questioned, horrified that their patron spirit and pseudo deity would do such a thing.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I''m sure it¡¯s all part of his grand plan for the Empire. Besides, we have a war to fight, and a little scared flesh will not slow me down.¡±

    Putting the matter to the side, the king focused on the map. Tying up his tunic, he marvelled at the breadth of his domain. His grandeur, tinged with regret as it was slowly being steamrolled by foreign forces. He held no love for the beasts of Lankos. But to believe they were only animals was a foolish notion. No matter the sentiment in the Empire, they were warriors. Now they were acting like soldiers, marching, leading and putting whole territories to the sword.

    ¡°The enemy has grown far more organised than the Empire could imagine.¡± Sir Kellig added, comforted by his king''s permission to be casual.

    ¡°It is easy to imagine. They may not be human, but civilised is not inherently a human trait. They may be barbaric to us. But in war they show their metal and so must we.¡±

    The orders that followed were to convene the military council. It only took half an hour for them to arrive. Every figure that now surrounded the table was an upper echelon of the Tarkonian military. Seasoned generals, knights, and war priests.

    ¡°I do not plan to march on the army. They are too many and we do not have the numbers to contend with them. They have also displayed exceptional communication between cohorts and expected every strategic strike we make.¡± The king explained.

    "This battle can only be one if we stand our ground. They will break on the walls of this sacred place. The pillar of Tarkon, the fortress that has never fallen. We will show the beasts of Lankos the folly of stepping even one foot further into the fatherland."

    A round of cheers followed, salutes, and expressions of approval littered the council meeting. The king felt satisfied. Not a single objection. They knew the threat they faced, the new tactics brought to bear. They were lions, standing proud upon their mountain top. The beasts below, once chaffed at the bonds of their own ineptitude.

    The kingdom, grown lax from victory and glory. The beasts saw fit to pounce on the sleeping lion. Bringing new beasts to the fight and clawing away the lions'' paws. Now he only can stand his ground and let them come. Let the waves crash against the shore. No further will it reach.

 Chapter 52 - Heroes Rise, And Heroes Fall

    Amidst the bustling orderly chaos of soldiers, eagerly traversing the battlements. Within the swirl of men and woman, making ready for the siege of their lives, sat a young boy not of this world. Seated on a crate, casting his vision to the descending sun. He didn¡¯t notice the figure approaching from behind.

    A slender hand fell upon his shoulder. He didn¡¯t react at all. Immersed, he was so in the visage of an alien sun. For a moment, the hand lingered, the owner remaining speechless. The boy remained silent. He could sense the hesitation. The lingering gaze of concern, the figure behind him, was none other than his keeper.

    ¡°What is it, Elisara?¡± The boy asked, calm and cold.

    ¡°I''m worried about you. You haven''t come to our lessons in days... Peter?¡±

    ¡°I''ve just been thinking about stuff. I will resume soon enough. Assuming we survive this damn war.¡± Peter added with disdain.

    His own irritability puzzled him with her. He had kept it under wraps with Jasmine and Lucy. He neither had the desire nor inclination to worry them. The two were the only friends he had that understood his situation. Not that he resented being brought here. Slowly, he was withdrawing from the people here.

    Understanding was as elusive as the wind itself. Forever before him, never within his grasp. Ever since he nearly died and Mal¡¯s impromptu demonic surgery. He hadn''t felt the same since. No matter how he thought of it, he wasn''t himself anymore. It wasn''t a major change, like him turning evil. That cliche thing was only in movies or novels. Despite his literal fantasy adventure, this didn''t feel like a story.

    The change wasn''t profound, neither was it overcoming his sensibilities. It wasn''t anything as generic as corruption or temptation. It was just an unsettling calm, a freedom he had never felt before. Insecurity and fear had previously paralyzed him. There was always a little voice inside trying to keep him down.

    Don¡¯t talk to that girl, she is too pretty. Don¡¯t hang out with them, they are way too cool for you. Avoid fighting them; otherwise, you will lose and get hurt. Those thoughts plagued most of his high school days. They made him a shy and awkward, for most of his life that was his reality. But now, things felt different.

    Weakness and a lack of confidence plagued him. He felt free, freer than he had ever experienced in all his life. He never stopped to think how much was weighing him down. Looking back on his life, he saw every missed opportunity, every word never said, every desire never fulfilled. Even coming here and gaining magical powers, he was still afraid. Yet, in this moment, he felt more alive than he had ever been.

    Was he dead before, or just less alive? He was not sure, the only certainty he had, that he was not the same. Mal said their would-be side effects with a mischievous cackle. The creature was a demon, so that wasn''t just a random joke. Peter had to take him seriously.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, don¡¯t worry.¡± He lied rather poorly.

    ¡°It doesn''t take an oracle to tell that was a lie.¡±

    Despite his mood, Peter smiled. It felt oddly nice that someone cared enough to point out his attempts to deflect. He guessed his change wasn''t total, and he still had poor emotional communication.

    ¡°I just don''t feel like myself, OK,¡± He answered snappishly.

    She sat down beside him, ruffling her witches'' robes and trying to keep it clean on the mostly unclean crate. Now seated beside him, she sighed.

    ¡°I know things have been hard.¡±

    ¡°Hard, yeah, almost dying and then brought back by a demon.¡±

    The moment he uttered, demon. The witch cast her gaze around. Comforted by the fact no one heard, she turned to him.

    ¡°I would keep that to yourself. I have no issue with it, but the rest will.¡± She stated curiously.

    ¡°I know demons are evil, blah, blah. I mean, who even decided that?¡± Peter whispered back, trying to keep his voice calm.

    ¡°War and historical record.¡±

    "I''m sure nobody embellished those records."

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they were. Still doesn¡¯t change how people feel. They have been the enemy since even before the reign of the Upire.¡±

    ¡°Upire, I haven¡¯t heard of those.¡±

    The mention of something not covered in his history lessons visibly brightened Peter and temporarily lifted his funk.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t the imperial scholars teach you history?¡±

    ¡°They did, but only the past 500 years,¡± He explained.

    ¡°Idiots, that¡¯s only half of human history. The kingdoms span back over a thousand years, half a millennium before the empire was even an idea in the mind of a Sylvanian.¡± She stated indignity, expecting more from the supposed elite of the learned society.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the first time teachers have omitted facts from history.¡±

    ¡°Does that kind of thing happen in your world?¡±

    ¡°Totally, if you ask certain questions in history class, you can really start stuff.¡± He chuckled, recalling the time he questioned his history teacher about the origin of thanksgiving.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it. But the basics of the Upire are they once reigned supreme over the continent. All races bowed to their magical might and immortal rule.¡±

    ¡°Immortal?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is said they were immortal demons that feasted on the blood of man, to sustain their dark lifespan.¡±

    Peter thought for a second, collating several points in his head. Immortal, demonic, feeds on blood. These three factors manifested the image of a certain Romanian figure dressed in a red cape and suit, dining on the neck of a maiden.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Are we talking about vampires? Like Dracula and Camila?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t recognise those names from the annals of history. Are they vampire lords from your world?¡± She inquired, puzzled.

    ¡°There are stories about them, but they are fiction.¡± He responded with certainty, before stopping.

    He was currently on the battlements of a medieval kingdom, in a world of magic and spirits. Who knows if those stories don''t hold some weight, in fact, rather than fiction? The idea compelled his eyes to widen. The possibilities could be endless. Historical fact may underlie all the amazing stories floating around in the fandom. Either from his own world or another.

    ¡°I may have to reconsider that.¡± He muttered.

    ¡°Reconsider?¡±

    ¡°Never mind. How far away is the enemy?¡± He asked, shifting the subject.

    The witch knew he was again deflecting. She wanted to press him. But doing so would likely cause him to clam up more. Despite all he had experienced, he was still so young. A hint of guilt crept into her already plagued heart. She had taken part in the summoning and brought three young strangers to a strange world.

    ¡°They are mere hours away. They had already passed the satellite towns. The refugees are coming in batches.¡±

    Upon uttering those words, he rose to his feet. Quickly, he ran to the wall''s edge, peering down. He saw the influx of battered and injured refugees. Lost in his own internal introspection, the young man had been ignorant for much of the comings and goings. Once locked in his room, and only recently ventured out. Even then, he only wandered until finding a crate.

    ¡°What happened to them?¡± He asked, his eyes glassy, yet his face broke with no emotion.

    A cold felling whelped up in his chest. Hands grew hot, and they sank to the deepest chill of the coldest region. With the stone gripped in his hand, he stared like an eagle. Set upon the refuges as the battered and torment people shuffled past the gate and into the fortress. Not noticing the chill emanating from his body, causing the armed and armoured soldiers to shiver. The stone beneath his grip slowly froze, solidifying into pristine ice, coating the wall.

    ¡°Peter!¡± She cracked her voice like a whip.

    Pulled out of the cold, he felt the faint chill slowly receding. Reality took form, and the world became more than his own dark thoughts. Looking down, he found the wall frozen solid. To his left and right were soldiers keeping their distance. Some holding their hands, traces of frost coating the armour.

    Apologising, they accepted, backing away even further. Noting this, the young man sent his gaze to another familiar face. Standing not too far away, crowded by soldiers and workers, was Lucy. Since arriving in Tarkon, she had become the centre of attention.

    ¡°She¡¯s popular.¡± Peter muttered coldly.

    "This is unavoidable. Tarkon¡¯s patron spirit is Pyrus. The other spirits are not so favoured here. Don¡¯t let that get you down."

    ¡°It doesn''t. What do I care about their praise?¡± He replied, seating himself.

    While seated, he promptly ignored the world, pulling out his GameBro and tuning out. The sounds of button mashing and sound effects followed. The witch lingered for a moment, trying to come up with something to say. In the end she left, leaving the young man to his games.

    Half an hour later, in the middle of catching a forest type. Another tapped on his shoulder. Sighing and annoyed, his battle was being interrupted. He paused the game and turned to give Elisara another less perfunctory brush off. Only for his words to caught in his throat. It was not the witch as he expected. It was his fellow companion, Jasmine.

    ¡°What do you want Jazz?¡± He asked, turning back to his game.

    ¡°I''ve told you to stop calling me that.¡±

    ¡°And I will continue to do so, same as Al.¡±

    Snorting derisively, she quickly checked herself. Finding lately, she had slowly slipped in terms of manners. The voice inside that told her to be prim, proper and dignified, that sounded too much like her father, was fading. It was a mere whisper now and so she felt little need to keep up appearances.

    ¡°Fine, if you want to call me by that garish name, go ahead.¡± She said before gesturing him to accompany her.

    Peter didn''t really want to walk and talk. Too immersed in his game, but it was Jasmine. He saved his progress, pocketed the console and went for a chat. The two passed by busy soldiers setting up various defensive armaments. Ballista, tubs of a boiling water, archer stations with an impressive stockpile of arrows. Along with other paraphernalia, he didn''t recognise and suspected they were for the wizards. The empire did not favour wizardry, but he noted Tarkon treated wizards better.

    Wizards and witches were even part of the military, royal council, and other civilian organisations that supported the kingdom. Peter had little interest in politics, but wanted to know how people treated the magical. Since he had designs on becoming a wizard, not content with his blessed powers. One could easily take away power if one could grant it.

    ¡°You have been different ever since the injury.¡± Jasmine stated, turning to gage his response.

    ¡°You mean my nearly dying. I read somewhere near-death experiences change people.¡±

    ¡°I read that too. Must be something to do with chemical reactions in a fading brain. But I doubt they ever considered magic as a catalyst.¡± She smirked.

    ¡°Yeah, scientists are all about observations and proven facts.¡±

    ¡°I wonder what scientists from earth would make of this world?¡± Jasmine added, casting a glance to the faded moons in the distance.

    ¡°Probably make them rethink everything they knew.¡±

    The two stopped upon reaching the first guard tower. An area just out of the way of the rushing soldiers. Leaning against the wall, they descended to silence. Jasmine staring at the young man intently, as if she could pierce his innermost thoughts. Peter tried to ignore this, instead finding the land beyond the wall fascinating.

    ¡°What do you want me to say?¡± He muttered, just underneath his breath.

    ¡°Just tell me what''s going on with you.¡± She asked, simply and evenly.

    Sighing, Peter thought very hard about his next words. He felt the normal protocol of his mind trying to reassert itself. His old anxieties and traits pressing him to shut down and ignore. Despite years of being plagued by this impulse. Their intensity lessened for him. He found even his anxieties about being so close to the opposite sex less intense.

    He doubted if this change would turn him into a ladies'' man. Cliche movies and novels reserved for such things. But the disturbing calmness was undeniable. In the end, he decided on honesty. Jasmine was, in a way, one of his only friends in this world. He had read so many stories that depicted the positive aspects of otherworldly adventures. But also, the darker ones, anti-hero stories where they trusted when they shouldn''t.

    Originally, this sudden shift to a fantasy world awed and inspired him. So much so, it overwrote any nagging doubts. Admitting to himself that he was foolish is an understatement. Now in this state, with whatever that demon did. He rethought his glorious adventure. The empire''s goal, the emperor''s desires and even the friends he made. This doubt and paranoia slowly began pushing itself to the four corners of his mind. And yet, he trusted Jasmine and Lucy. They were in the same boat and from the same world.

    ¡°I think...¡± He paused, unable to get the right words out.

    ¡°I think whatever Mal did to save me changed me.¡±

    ¡°Change you. What do you mean?¡± She inquired.

    ¡°Nothing obvious, at least not that I have noticed. It¡¯s nothing on the outside, it¡¯s inside.¡± He tried articulating the new feelings and found at least, this was the same as before.

    ¡°I feel differently about things. My old way of thinking has changed. I don''t react the same way. Like when I killed those men, froze them solid. I thought that would scare me or make me feel guilty. Instead, I was oddly calm, afraid yes, but still calm. I don¡¯t know what to do about this.¡±

    ¡°I think we should talk to Maligore. If we can get straight answers out of him. We can go from there.¡± She said before leaning down to face him.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I can''t imagine what it¡¯s like to kill someone. But I''ve encountered people haunted by killing someone. My father''s army buddies once told me, after they knocked back a six-pack. They claimed the experience affected them, and that talking about it was therapeutic. If you ever need to talk, I am here.¡±

    She gave a reassuring smile, appearing oddly motherly, in stark contrast to the age gap. Peter felt happy to know he had someone. At least, the joy of having a friend and the slight anxiety her proximity caused felt familiar. Perhaps he hadn''t changed as much as he thought. The two smiled and he soon immediately shifted to nerd mode. Withdrawing his GameBro to show off his new catches. Jasmine humoured him and tried to keep up with the bombard of information.

 Chapter 53 - Heroes In Action

    After a thorough explanation of proper team building with a variety of battlemon types. A loud horn brought the two out of the discussion. They knew what it meant instantly. The synapses in their brain connecting to the proper memory. The enemy was here, and the siege was about to begin.

    Quickly, they ran to their companions, passing by frantic soldiers. The war had reached this last bastion of the plains. This castle was the guardian between the conquered lands and Tarkon. If it fell, the enemy would have a staging ground for a full-scale invasion.

    Arriving, they found Lucy being shuffled away from the wall, her sycophants bidding her farewell. She waved them off as her knight and bodyguard pulled her into the safety of the inner castle. What remained were the soldiers of Tarkon, priests, wizards and the king himself.

    King Andre Tarkon wore full plate armour, an ornate obsidian sword at his waist. The heraldry of his house blazoned upon his armour. He approached the battlements, giving a nod to Peter and Jasmine. His gaze cast down, prompting the two heroes to follow. What appeared in the distance was the first wave.

    The besieging army was vast and far more organised than the realm of men expected. Many, even in Tarkon¡¯s own lands, viewed the Lankosians and savage barbarians. Peter himself had been told that occasionally by imperial soldiers. But when he looked out upon the neat lines of marching soldiers. He felt the enemy was far more organised than savages.

    The size of the army, its width and breadth, caused his chest to constrict. It was a similar fear response whenever he went on stage for public speaking. Only this was mixed with terror, a terror that made him want to flee. He would have, if not for the odd calmness washing over him. An eagerness to test his powers was a close second, and that horrified him.

    The King quickly took charge, barking orders to his men.

    ¡°Men to your stations. I don¡¯t want a single stone of this wall without a man within reach.¡± He bellowed.

    ¡°Heroes, please remain in reserve for now. I may call on your powers if the enemy proves too formidable.¡±

    The two heroes nodded, accepting their position as a reserve force. Pleased with the agreement, the king turned to the castle''s defence. Peter felt the pull of interest. A morbid curiosity about the facets of war. Knowledge from movies only gave so much information. Approaching the wall, he situated himself in between two soldiers. The pair looked down at the teenager, perplexed for a moment. They soon realised this was no simple young boy. But a powerful spirit blessed hero and so straighten their stance and affixed their gaze forward.

    Peter ignored this and focused on the approaching army. The word immense did not do this army justice. The entire view was awash in lines upon lines of marching soldiers. If one could see that far, they would note the sheer diversity amongst its ranks.

    But to Peter, it was an army that reminded him of that scene from Master of the Rings. The scene was the massive army of elves and humans laid siege to Kordor in the first age. That scene always seemed unrealistic to him. But now, not only was he proven wrong, but was facing an army of such a size.

    Gulping saliva, he tried to keep his childish heart steady. He was afraid, so fearful he could fall to his knees and sob. But something kept him standing. The eagerness welling inside and the longing to unleash his powers. The feeling scared him more than the army.

    He watched as the invading army approached just outside of now range, according to the archer beside him.

    ¡°Come on, you bastards, just a little further and I¡¯ll feather you.¡± An archer muttered.

    Instead of getting what he wanted, the besieging army stopped just shy of arrow range. Lines of beast-kin stand shoulder to shoulder. Suddenly a breach forms, soldiers widening a gap as a lone soldier rides forward.

    Riding a horse at a trot, the figure arrives just before the wall. Waving a blue and white flag, the figure raises it above, just before a voice echo around the castle.

    ¡°Humans of Tarkon, we are the United Realms of Lankos. We claim the plains, stolen from our ancestors and defiled by human hands. We will reclaim these lands for their rightful owners. As for this castle, we will conquer it. You may flee in shame or die as warriors.¡± He declared, sending his challenge to the entire castle.

    Once finished, the rider turned back to the army, his fellow soldiers closing the breach. Swallowed by the mass of deadly warriors, the rider vanished into the sea of enemies. Peter turned back to the stone-faced king; his features slowly broke into a grin. It was as if being threatened by such a grand army was amusing.

    ¡°What do you say men, should we surrender?¡± The king spoke, dripping with sarcasm.

    What followed was a loud roar in the negative. Every soldier cheered at once.

    ¡°Never!¡± they cheered in defiance.

    The king appeared to glow to Peter, an aura radiating from his regal pose. If he were a subject, he would have likely beamed with pride. But to him, it was like watching a movie, not entirely real, but entertaining. Instead of getting into the boisterous atmosphere, he returned to his refuge. Noting Jasmine, vacating his orbit and heading for Lucy.

    The picture warmed his heart. He didn''t entirely know why. Jasmine had become a surrogate mother to the young girl. Perhaps Peter was a geeky brother. Family born of necessity, he wondered if in other circumstances, would the same thing happen? He doubted it, and yet he hoped they would stay together.

    Seated, he watched the proceedings. The preparations for war were in full swing. A cacophony of movement culminated into a spread of deadly weapons, pressed to their purpose. The ease with which people rallied to take up arms and focus solely on killing was frightening. Protecting your homeland likely encouraged that.

    Only peter wondered if there was more to it. More than just defending the realm and the patriotic call to action. Looking around, he could see anticipation and rage. The soldiers'' eyes showed anticipation and rage, rather than stoicism.

    ¡°Hate is such an excellent motivator. I wonder if, when this is done, will I be a monster or not?¡± He muttered, contemplating the morality of fighting in this war.

    Eventually, the engines of war stirred. The enemy condensed, but also spread to surroundings. He could spot constructs in the distance, legions of workers building. He didn''t need to be a medieval expert to identify trebuchets and siege towers. Hours went by and the two sides brought their weapons and tactics into position. They positioned ballista, stones, and drums of boiling water on the walls. Archers and eagre men waited for their charge to strike.

    Eventually, the time had come, and the first attack begun. Soldiers loaded giant stones onto the catapults and launched them. Peter could see them rise, becoming tiny pinpricks. Slowly, they descended, becoming larger within sight. Colliding with the wall, stones smashed stones. Many took cover with commands to take cover. He did so, leaving his crate to hide beneath a stone pillar.

    The castle shook with every blow. The enemy was just out of range and the impotent soldiers could not return fire. Eventually, after several pelts, they stopped. The soldiers ordered the robed men forward. Peter had seen them before, priests of the earth''s spirit. They left their confines and begun the repairs. He could see them channelling spirits from the stones.

    Using their pendants, a common tool for spirit users. They shaped stone like clay, waving their hands and willing the mineral to move. In between the trebuchet pelting the wall like a dart competition. These little worker bees kept up their endless chore of repairing as much damage as possible.

    It was a dangerous gig, while Peter was cowering behind a pillar. One of the earthmancers, a term he used. A flung boulder rendered him a red paste when he failed to move. He was not the first to die. Peter witnessed several deaths, as the enemy seemed to have infinite ammunition.

    Eventually, their ammunition proved to be more finite. A lull in combat settled in, as every man on the wall raced to shore up their positions. It was insanity, reminding him of an ant colony desperately trying to maintain efficiency. All the while, a five-year-old was burning them alive, akin to a cruel god. The men barely regained control, even with their king¡¯s charisma. The man stood resolute, eyes boring into the far-off enemy, as he flung death with every stone.

    ¡°Return fire!¡± The King ordered.

    They responded by hurling their own massive stones. Peter had not been aware they had trebuchets of their own. Sending the vengeance back at the enemy, most of them missed. But a few found their target and only dust and bloodied remains left. The two sides then saw how many of each other they could squish.

    Trebuchets continually pelted each other, most barely doing any damage. Only the unlucky few, unable to escape in time, fell prey to gravity with all its cruelty. Eventually, the exchange slowly petered down, likely a diminishing of ammo. The shift in tactics was swift and soon after, the enemy was marching.

    Peter witnessed giant siege towers slowly making ground, the enemy force using it as cover. Arrows rained down from the wall, but the advance continued. Anticipating a fight, the young man tried to stop his hands from shaking. His eyes were wide, mouth dry, and the anticipation of combat loomed.

    He was a hero, that is what he told himself. In those moments of doubt, he clung to that statement. Ice slowly formed around his fists; he was ready, as any teenager on the battlefield was. Still, he shook, and only a single hand on his shoulder seemed to calm him. He knew who it was, and it made him feel safe, despite the situation.

    Jasmine, Elisara and Halmar approached, their gazes locked forward. Peter¡¯s heart swelled; he wasn''t doing this alone. Despite his own internal crisis, having friends by your side helped more than he will admit.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°They''re going to breach the wall?¡± Peter shakily questioned.

    ¡°Not if we have anything to say about it.¡± Halmar answered, his rapier clutched and ready for battle.

    It felt good to have allies in this turbulent time. Though the King kept us in reserve, Peter suspected we would need them soon. Soon seemed to arrive far quicker than intended. Siege towers advanced, launching arrows and boiling water. The screams of the enemy were deafening, only succeeded by the war cries.

    Before they knew it, the towers had arrived. Despite the attempts from the fire priests to burn them. They seemed impervious to fire and to the more magically inclined, a faint shimmer of a protection spell surrounded it. In response, the fire priests focused on scorching any besieging force that dared to exit the wooden structure.

    As the monstrosity arrived, the wooden creation of war fell open. Within the structure, the beast-kin beat their chests and roared. They were hungry for battle and bloodshed. With feral determination, they burst from their confines. Leaping down onto the wall, the barely equipped frontline met resistance.

    Unlike the armed and armoured soldiers of Tarkon. Leather armour and short swords equipped the beast-kin. In comparison, the Tarkonians wore steel plate armour, swords, and shields. The beast-kin fell upon the soldiers like an avalanche of muscle and fur.

    ¡°Push them back, someone break that tower!¡± someone bellowed.

    The Tarkonians pressed forward, shields raised, and hearts made of steel. Blow after blow of claw and sword descended from the ravenous attackers. Despite the ferocity, the line held, but there were far too many. Soon the wall became a maelstrom of violence and gore.

    Beast-kin ascended ladders, flooded from siege towers. The immensity of their numbers and the ruthlessness of each nearly overwhelmed them. Peter felt the urge to wade into battle despite his own fear. The ice chilly feeling in his chest threatened to burst. Before he could, the voice of the king resounded.

    ¡°Do not lose heart, my brothers. Let us send these honourless dogs to the Infernum!¡±

    The king leapt over his own men; an impossible feat given his full plate set of armour. Agile and swift, he landed atop a crowd of beast-kin. His broadsword slicing through everybody in reach. The broadsword sent body parts of man and beast flying. Once his bloody work was done, he eyed the rest of his enemies. Their advance from within the tower had halted.

    Fear replaced their feral gazes, and soon that was the last expression they made. Raising his left gauntlet, a ball of fire manifested from nothing. The fiery orb, a spiritual manifestation of his bond, hurtled through the air. Despite the tower being shielded from fire, this did not protect those within. The tower turned from a protective enclosure to a burning hell.

    They screamed and writhed as the king of Tarkon commanded his spirit to scorch the earth. With another agile leap, he returned to the wall. There he stood, proud and strong, his sword raised to the heavens.

    ¡°Do not lose faith, my brothers, show the courage and pride of Tarkon! Just as the crimson priest laid down his life to defend the holy land. So must we match his deeds with our own? Let us send the beasts back to their holes!¡± He spoke with vigour and sureness in his words.

    His men agreed, cheering back to acknowledge the rightness of their king. Embolden, they set forth with a new resolve. They sent every beast-kin that dared taint their wall flying. They removed the ladders, decapitating enemies the moment their heads appeared over the wall. It was a brutal melee between the guardians of the wall and the ascending beasts.

    They sent more siege towers, each successfully emptying its occupants. Only for them to be slaughtered upon exiting. Flames licked their charred bones as over a dozen fire priests set them ablaze. Whatever they were doing, it was working. The besieging force was being pushed back. Very few even made it to the wall. Soldiers cut down or burned those who reached the wall.

    The siege lasted for hours; Siege towers slowly dwindled; ladders proved ineffective, and every choke point was stocked full of soldiers. No matter how many bodies the enemy threw at the wall, Tarkonian spirit endured. Morale was high and enemy casualties sky rocketed.

    It was then a change as a tactic presented itself. Instead of siege engines and ladders. The enemy army partitioned and a smaller force of light infantry separated. Elisara, using her spell of bird''s-eye, spotted the strange actions. She described the new group as a pack of lupines, lightly armoured with only sheathed, short swords.

    Suddenly, like a shotgun blast, the group sped forward with inhuman speed. Dodging every single volley, they made their way to the wall almost instantly. Once they were in range, they leapt with the skill of master gymnasts and sank their claws into stone. From there they ascended, striking terror into any soldier who dared look down.

    ¡°Pour the boiling water!¡± A soldier commanded.

    Scolding hot water fell like a waterfall of second-degree burns. The giant metal tubs tipped on their axis by assigned men. Yet no one heard the roar of pain. Instead of the burning wails of scorched enemies. Only the sound of claws digging into stone, once after the other. One man looked down, horrified to see their efforts pour over the enemy, leaving them unharmed. Scolding liquid was only a simple bath to a bunch of smelly dogs. The heat had no effect, barely lessening their advance.

    ¡°They have protection against heat!¡± A soldier yelled before his head left his shoulders.

    Blood gushed as the body descended to the ground. Behind him was a feral humanoid wolf. Predatory eyes darted around, charting his next victim. Before he could take another life, a broadsword hit squarely him in the chest. At the blade''s end was a Tarkonian royal knight in full plate armour.

    The beast slid effortlessly off the blade and fell to his death. The victory was short-lived as another arrived to replace him. Quickly, they mounted the battlements, slicing their claws into everything within reach. Many soldiers died defending their small corner of the wall. The king and his knights sent forth replacements, only for them to be cut down.

    Authorities dispatched fire priests to contend with them. Raising barriers of flame, they boxed the enemy from all sides. The torrent of fire kept them at bay, only for a blade to emerge from the flames. A transparent sword sliced through the heat and someone flung it with significant force. In an instant, it landed in the chest of a priest, staining his fine robes with blood.

    The barrier wavered, and in that moment, a gap emerged. Taking full advantage, they poured out of the flames, cutting down every servant of the spirts they could reach.

    ¡°You filthy heathens!¡± The knights yelled before wading into battle.

    Enraged by the death of their holy men. The knights of Tarkon charged into a brutal melee. Yet despite their ferocity, they were over-matched by the sheer strength of their opponents. The lupine enemies condensed into a wall of fur and ferocity, keeping one of their number protected.

    The back liner knelt upon the stone, withdrawing a waterskin from his belt. He poured the contents, revealing blood.

    ¡°Demon summoner!¡± One knight yelled.

    The dire situation prompted the King to command the heroes to deploy at last. And so they did. Peter was eager while Jasmine quietly assessed. The wolf-kin soon noticed their presence. The predatory beasts broke through the barricade of knights and sent their more ferocious members to stop the newcomers.

    With every moment passing, more enemy soldiers ascended ladders. The breach created by the lupines allowed the besieging army a single entrance to overwhelm the defenders. Knights slowly fell to claw, their bodily weapons able to cut through armour. Realising the threat they posed, the king ordered them back.

    The heroes took the initiative and sped forward. Jasmine was the first to meet the enemy. Instead of launching his claws, the transparent short sword was the weapon of choice. The wolf swung his blade, only to be caught by a side block, leading into a solid jab to the gut. Instead of falling to the ground, clutching his stomach. The short sword sent the half-man, half-wolf flying off the wall. The sound of a thud proceeded the few seconds before he went air born.

    Following her astounding show of superhuman strength. Both her allies and enemies paused for a moment. This didn''t last as Halmar sped across, aided by his wind spirits. Ducking and weaving through sword and claw. He made his way past the line, slicing through every piece of flesh he could find. Before he could make it, eldritch energy blasted him back. The lupine figure in dark robes raised his claws, sending sickly energy in every direction. Strangely, this energy held no sway over his allies and only pushed back man and spirit.

    ¡°Elisara, can you disable the summoning?!¡± Halmar frantically asked.

    ¡°I can try, but I need time.¡± She answered before seating herself in lotus position.

    Chanting in the arcane tongue, the witch sent her power. Like ethereal chains of binding, the magic attacked the summoning spell. Tearing pieces of the diabolical work to shreds. Angered by the interference, the summoner commanded his fellow kin to target the witch.

    Predatory grins crossed their faces. Sword and claw rose soon after. Their victim was before them. Only the heroes lay in their path. Like pack animals, they identified the weakest link. Their sights affixed to Peter, seeing him as an easy kill. Crouching on all fours, they sped, easily dodging Jasmines strikes.

    Attacking from all sides, Peter found himself surrounded by vicious animals. Fear threatened to take hold, but at that moment, instinct took over. Exhaling mist, the air froze and extended its icy touch. In a moment, his attackers turned from dangerous killers to ice sculptures, posed in several forms.

    Emboldened by the act, a smirk crossed his face. Eyes locked to the remaining wolf-kin surrounding the summoner. He didn''t know if the wolf-kin''s expressions were shocked, and he didn''t care.

    ¡°Ice blast!¡± He blurted out, raising both his hands.

    From his palms, ice spewed forth, freezing everything it touched. The wolf-kin desperately tried to evade, but a simple wave of his hand froze them in place. Step by step, Peter moves forward, blasting everyone that came near. Littering the wall with ice sculptures of terrified demi-humans. Eyes burning with heat that felt the exact opposite of the chill in his heart.

    With every single enemy frozen, only the summoner remained. The robed lupine muttered something in arcane tongue, gesturing his claws at Elisara. A scream resounded and by instinct, Peter looked back. Blood erupted from her mouth as her tongue fell limp on the ground. With her spell ended, the summoner cackled madly.

    ¡°Finally, that wench is silent and quite good since I am finished. See you all in the Infernum!¡±

    Withdrawing a dagger, he plunged the blade into his heart. From the wound, blood didn''t flow. Instead, he expelled an ungodly fire. His body warped and bloated before splitting in the middle. What emerged was something Peter had seen countless times in his L&W campaigns. It was a demon, no doubt about it. A giant, red-skinned humanoid with a spiked tail, bat-like wings and horns. What shocked Peter was not the visage, but the voice that came forth.

    ¡°Woah dude, that''s hardcore summoning, respect.¡± The demon said to the bloodied corpse.

    His slit eyes scanned the field of battle, settling upon Peter. They widened slightly. The kindred feeling he had with his fellow demons whispered the truth.

    ¡°Woah, hey little demon dude, my name¡¯s Greg and I would suggest bouncing. I got a job to do, and it will not be pretty.¡± The demon suggested, raising his well-muscled arm.

    Snapping his fingers, tiny flames manifested behind him. Hanging in the air, they slowly multiplied and forming into smaller versions of the demons.

    ¡°Come, boys, we got a job, pillage and killing. It''s going to be a good day.¡±

    His demons split off, slaughtering every human they came across. His demons quickly drenched the wall, once a vanguard for humanity, in human blood.

    ¡°Fall back!¡± The King commanded, his knights following him down a narrow passageway.

    ¡°We need to get out of here!¡± Jasmine added, trying to pull Peter back.

    Resisting, the young hero stared up at the demon, his hands ready to ice every demon in sight. Looking back for a moment, he noted Elisara in Halmar''s arms. The blood had stopped. Their eyes met, and he knew what she wanted.

    Shaking his head, he refused to flee. Turning to Jasmine, he conveyed his desires without words. Ready to leap into one of the greatest heroic charge of his life. Instead, he floated above the ground.

    His fellow companion in the great game of heroes. Was gripping him by the shirt and dangling him above the ground.

    ¡°We are getting out of here.¡± She affirmed, with no intention of rebuke.

    ¡°Sorry girlie, that little dude is kin, he needs to go through processing.¡± The demon calling himself Greg stated.

    Suddenly, and with a wave of the demon''s hand. A fiery portal appeared below Peter, emerging from the tear in reality as many grotesque tentacles. Wrapping themselves around his torso, they pulled with inhuman might.

    His shirt ripped easily, and before Jasmine could make a move. He vanished into the portal, closing behind him. Shocked, she paused only for a second. She barely registered losing her friend. Only cold reality pulled her from the stupor.

    Demons were everywhere, and lamenting his loss would only get her dead.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry girlie, he''s in a better place.¡± The demon said with finality, hands on his hips and demonic legions pouring out of fire behind him.

 Chapter 54 - Demons At The Gate

    The six-foot demon had the gall to smile after vanishing one of Jasmine''s only friends in this crazy world. She didn¡¯t know if he was dead or worse. She only knew demons from a single interaction with Maligore. From what she could tell, he seemed like a pleasant, albeit eccentric, being. But this creature was the epitome of every demon Sunday school harped on about.

    She wondered for a moment if they were the demons from the Judeo-Christian religion. Looking around, she scanned the battlefield. It was clear at a glance that the wall was gone. Dead Tarkonian soldiers littered the area and demons were pouring from cracks in space.

    To anyone vaguely familiar with the popularised end of days. This would herald a demonic invasion and the end of human-kind. Yet it was all a military tactic. That was obvious to anyone with an objective viewpoint.

    The defenders protected the castle very well. It could withstand siege months. The enemy had to employ an unorthodox tactic to take the wall. She just didn¡¯t expect them to employ demons. Or should she have considered that?

    The empires of more radical members were harping on about demon invasions. Initially, she thought this was a manifestation of racist sentiments, but perhaps there was substance to their bias.

    She examined this within a few seconds. Long enough to notice a giant red fist coming towards her. Raising her arms, she blocked the impact; the force was immense but still inferior to the Blue Dragon.

    Pushed back only slightly, she replied with a one-two punch to his mid-section. The blows took the demon off guard, sending him flying. Catching himself in mid-air, his wings spread, inviting another blow. Smiling with a wicked glint in his eye, he swiftly touched down.

    ¡°Not bad. You punch like a demon.¡± He mocked before landing with a great thud.

    The castle walls trembled with his steps, an obvious fear tactic. Despite that, Jasmine stood alone and resolute atop the besieged ramparts. Relying on her spirit''s blessed powers, she settled into a fighting stance. Gesturing the demon to come and face her. The infernal being could not resist leaping into action.

    The air was thick with an acrid scent, burning stone, and the wails of the dying. Despite that, she stood tall and proud, facing the horde. She stepped forward, causing the stone beneath her boots to crack with every step. Positioning herself in front of the retreating soldiers, she faced the legions before her.

    Tightening her fists, the power of her patron surged in her veins. Something she hadn''t discussed was the thrill it gave her every time she was near the display of power. Shaking her head, she put that feeling aside. With a burst of incredible speed, she closed the distance. Tricking her opponent into thinking she would remain in defence.

    She swung a powerful right hook, impacting against his jaw. Staggering backwards, the demon recovered even faster than before. Unleashing a barrage of claws, ready to rend flesh, his swipes missed their mark.

    ¡°Quite agile, is that kick boxing?¡± The demon inquired, raising his hand to forestall his demons.

    ¡°You know about kick boxing?¡± Jasmine replies, perplexed.

    ¡°Of course I do. I¡¯m not one of these primitive locals. So ignorant of the many worlds and their secrets.¡±

    ¡°And where did you learn that term?¡± She asked, narrowing her eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been around and earth is an old stopping ground. Perhaps I¡¯ll visit yours some day.¡± He said menacingly, his smile showing serrated teeth.

    ¡°That assumes you survive this day.¡±

    ¡°That it does.¡±

    As if by a signal, the fight resumed. The demon raised his arms, sending his imps to attack. The demons flee forward eagerly and are ready to slash and rend. Mobbing her from all sides, they slashed and grabbed. Every cut meeting flesh as hard as stone, despite the clothes tearing. Not a single claw broke skin, she replied violently.

    Kicks and punches annihilated the minor demons one blow at a time. Instead of imploding in blood and gore, they erupted into red mist. She was sure that was not how physical entities died. With the amount of force she could exert, they should be a mess of gore and viscera. Alas, this only applied to biological entities under the laws of science. Not to demons from the furthest depths of hell. Even this world scientific rules were strange, but at this moment, she didn''t give these thoughts any time.

    Performing a commando roll, she picked up a discarded axe. Bringing the weapon to bear, she clobbered three demons in quick succession. Their insubstantial bodies falling to pieces with every strike. She was like a whirlwind of death, as if her purposes were to remove demons from this world. Having cut the fifteenth demon in half, she confronted the larger demon, Greg.

    ¡°Not bad, and looks like you saved some people. Congrats, little hero, you saved the day. Too bad our plan doesn''t involve your survival.¡± He said smugly.

    Gripping air, a sword manifested out of thin air. It was the size of a bastard sword, absurdly large and decorated as you would suspect. Jagged edges like a shark with skulls adorning the hilt. The weapon seemed to impose and to cause as much pain before death.

    ¡°Compensating for something?¡± She said with a straight face.

    ¡°Maybe. Do you want to come over and check?¡± He replied with a smirk. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°I walked right into that, didn''t I?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you did.¡±

    The demon joked, and the human just responded. The two stared each other down, weapons in hand and the deaths of each other in mind.

    ¡°If this whole killing each other doesn''t work out. Want to go for a drink?¡± The demon offered in an oddly friendly gesture.

    ¡°No thanks, not ready to date right now.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself.¡± He added before leaping forward, ready to strike.

    The blade descended, meeting the hard ground and embedding. He had misjudged the speed of a human. She was a lot faster than he had expected. Side stepping, she raised her axe, ready to slam it into his ribs. Instead of ending this quickly, the demon effortlessly removed his embedded blade and performed a side swing.

    Narrowly missing her as she leapt higher than any Olympic gymnast could reach. She hung in the air for a moment, performing her superhero leap. Flying demons took that instance to attack, prompting several swipes from her axe. Three new imps met their makers and dissolved into mist. Landing soon after, she swung her axe, delivering death or whatever happens to demons when you decapitate them.

    Greg nodded, impressed. Instead of attacking, he waited for the hero. Acting like the big boss at the end of a long campaign, the demon waited on the challenger. She did not disappoint. Leaping forward, the blade of her axe descended. The furious piece of steel threatened to split the demon''s head in half.

    Instead of parting his skull, the axe met steel. They raised the absurdly large bastard sword high. The thick weapon acted more like a shield than a blade. What followed were several exchanges, each blocking each other. Her skill with an edged weapon was inferior. The demon was clearly far more experienced. But her speed, natural agility and strength shored up the difference.

    Neither could overcome the other, and the constant attacks from imps were mere annoyances. They would try to wade into the battle, attacking her when she was vulnerable. Instead, they found her boot or her axe. Only when one brave imp sacrificed his life did an opening appear. Slipping up, she could not raise her weapon fast enough.

    A hidden blade emerged, made of transparent glass. The point sank deeply into her leg, blood gushed from the wound. The pain was excruciating, and the glee the demon got from her scream filled her with rage. In the words of her father, she was about to do something very un-lady like.

    ¡°You bitch!¡± She cursed, mustering all her internalised wrath to raise her weapon.

    She swung the axe, slicing through her own pain, just as the axe slammed into his face. The demon foolishly tried to lean in, likely to gloat. It proved to be his undoing as the axe obliterated half of his face. The blade cut roughly through his cheek and out the side of his lip. It was a gruesome attack and would be certain death for any human.

    Alas, this was a demon and did not go down easily. Despite half of his face ripped off, he only chuckled. Smiling, or at least attempting a smile with most of the flesh torn away. He then pulled the dagger and back handed Jasmine away. She flew at great speeds, smashing into the wall beside the entrance.

    ¡°Not bad, but I''m much harder to kill than these pipsqueaks.¡± The demon stated, his face regenerating.

    ¡°Seems so. Guess I''ll have to retreat for now.¡± Jasmine replied, compressing the gushing wound with her free hand.

    With all her remaining energy, she broke for the entrance. Reaching it despite her wound and trailing blood. She could hear the demon laughing haughtily.

    ¡°Are we playing tag now?¡± He inquired sarcastically.

    ¡°No, hide and seek.¡±

    With a burst of energy, she jumped, slamming her back into the ceiling. Landing ungracefully, she rolled forward as the roof caved in. Debris sealed the passageway, and so she sighed in relief. Hearing the demon¡¯s voice echo through the rubble, she winced at his statement.

    ¡°I''m very good at hide and seek.¡± The demon mentioned before, going quiet.

    Jasmine tried to ignore him, instead focusing on the wound. Looking around, she found a deceased soldier slumped against the wall. An arrow jutted from his neck and blood frothing from his lips. It looked like a death she didn''t want to experience. As respectfully as possible, she tore away a strip of material from his tunic. Wrapping her gushing wound as tight as possible, she let out a squeal of pain.

    Sighing loudly, she rested for a moment, spurned shortly after by the knocking. The demons outside were clawing their way through and would likely enter soon enough. Rising to her feet, she made her way inside. Stopping for a moment, she spotted a strange shadow passing by. It was only a peripheral, but she could have sworn she saw it.

    Deciding not to dwell, she continued. Turning down the narrow corner, she came upon a cacophony of voices. The tight space crammed soldiers, priests, and knights together. Wounds afflicted most of them, and only the king maintained order.

    ¡°Set up the barricades, send the wounded back.¡± The king commanded.

    They facilitate his decree; the group set to task, pushed by the king''s command and the fear of the enemy. Soldiers brought forth wooden barricades, aligning them in the hallway. Jasmine knew the demons would tear through them. But if it comforted them and some level of safety, let them do so.

    Finding Halmar and Elisara in the group, she frantically approached them. The sight of the witch still alive comforted her. She would have hated to see her dead, given how she cared for Peter. She seemed to sleep, resting against the wall.

    ¡°How is she?¡± She asked.

    ¡°She is healing. Whatever that demon did was quite extensive.¡±

    ¡°Good. How long will she be like that?¡±

    ¡°Not too long. The healing process should be quite fast. It¡¯s one of her talents.¡± He added, smiling.

    With her friends secure, she turned to the soldiers. Noticing the commotion, she quickly went over to assess. One officer appeared to be yelling at a soldier. Commanding him to move, only the soldier stood stock still. Getting closer, she found the man, his eyes wide, an unnerving grin and refusing to move. No matter how many times the soldier yelled and commanded, the man wouldn''t move.

    Before she could say anything, the soldier suddenly came to life. Turned to his commanding officer, withdrew his sword and plunged the weapon into his gut. Confused, the commander fell just as the blade withdrew from a gushing wound.

    ¡°I''ve always wanted to do that.¡± The soldier said maniacally.

    The mad soldier turned and began slashing at everyone within reach. Nobody was safe, not the civilians or soldiers. A fellow soldier quickly slashed him across the chest. The fear and uncertainty ran through, prompting the king himself to venture forward. Held back by his knights, with words such as not safe and keep back my liege.

    Jasmine, still confused, tried to make sense of the situation. The soldier that just went mad, she had met before. While he had leered at her, he wasn''t mad nor actively violent. Trying to assess the situation, she looked down and caught the same strange shadow darting across the floor. Convinced it was some sort of demon magic. She was about to inform the others.

    What followed was anarchy. An earth priest began laughing insanely. His amulet raised high and sending the debris away, opening the collapse entrance. Despite his fellow priests'' attempts to stop him, he removed enough debris to open a gap. Demons funnelled through the gap, widening it with every demon that came through.

    Preparing for a fight, Jasmine could only watch as the demons slaughtered everyone in front of her. The demons cut a swath through them, sending body parts and viscera all over the walls. Halmar approached her side, and the two made ready for the attack. Behind them, the voice of the king bellowed loudly, frantically and with all haste.

    ¡°I accept your deal!¡± King Andre spoke before his world faded to black.