《Mischief's Apostle [Grimdark Isekai LitRPG]》


 (Non-story post) Bad life decisions and a Title Change!

    Hello hello!


    I''ll get straight to the point. I''ve consulted with the experts of the algorithms and with the connoisseurs of marketing, and I have been thoroughly made fun of for the old title of the book. Turns out, not many people want to read a book called "Life''s Losers." I agree that I kind of shot myself in the foot with the title. Even though the old title did somewhat fit the story, and even though my cover artist made the title look gorgeous, the title was unappealing to say the least.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Luckily, Royal Road allows room for experiments. The new title of the book is now "Mischief''s Apostle!"


    Unluckily, Amazon does not allow room for experiments as easily, not after I''ve already set the isbn numbers for the physical copies... So the book will now live under two identities......


    Yeah. I have no idea what I''m doing. Thanks for being patient with my dumb ass. Chapter contents stay exactly the same, so enjoy the story!


    ps: Please leave a comment on what you think about the titles, both new and old!

 Prologue: Mages get snatched. That’s just how it goes.

    Jordan Feryah paused outside the door, hearing his student whimper inside. The cries came deep from the soul, past simple homesickness or anxiety. These were tears of hopelessness, shed by those who truly despised their lives.


    Einvig had not taken well to her awakening. Mages rarely did.


    Jordan wasn¡¯t surprised to hear her cry. Most students considered him evil during his kindest years, when he was still a sworn devotee of Goddess Akona. He never intended Einvig to see him as a saint.


    Still, the cries hurt more than Jordan liked to admit. As cruel of a teacher as he was, a part of him wished Einvig had enjoyed her journey as a mage, while she still had a sliver of freedom left.


    Jordan ignored his countless doubts and worries and knocked on the door.


    The whimpers stopped with a gasp. A silent panic filled the room. Jordan waited, allowing time for preparations. He wasn¡¯t supposed to bother her at this time, and he usually kept to the schedule. A private break was as necessary as any lesson. Oftentimes, the thread holding a student¡¯s sanity was their hour spent in tears.


    The door creaked ajar. A timid brown-haired head peeked out. ¡°Teacher?¡± Einvig asked.


    Jordan offered a weak smile. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Vig.¡± He pulled the door open. ¡°Spare time is canceled tonight. Important matters have shown up.¡±


    Einvig stepped out of the way, letting Jordan into the sad little bedchambers. A mattress with no pillow lay where the king-sized bed used to. Noble blackwood furniture had been stripped, replaced with prickly chairs and an unstable writing table. All that remained of luxury was patterned wallpaper and a single oil lamp to compensate for the boarded window.


    Unjust punishments for a young mage battling the corruption of her body and mind. It seemed the cult had gone slightly overboard.


    ¡°Um,¡± Einvig said. Her reddened eyes pointed toward Jordan¡¯s feet. ¡°I need to write home. Grandma expects to hear from me today.¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± Jordan said. ¡°You¡¯ll meet your family soon enough. Your stay at the mansion is over.¡±


    Einvig¡¯s head slowly rose. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a qualified mage now,¡± Jordan said. ¡°You¡¯ve proven that the Corruption won¡¯t take the better of you. You¡¯ve graduated.¡±


    ¡°Graduated?¡± Einvig asked.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jordan said. He patted her head and smiled, though the expression was hard to form. ¡°You¡¯ve done well. It¡¯s time to see home.¡±


    She stared at him, dumbfounded. The happy news was blinded by shock and apprehension. Einvig remained on guard, doubtful of her teacher¡¯s schemes.


    Oh, how I would have loved to perfect you, Jordan thought. Einvig was a curious little rat, always found where she shouldn¡¯t be. A quality from which most great mages thrived. In the case of this troublesome young lady, keeping Einvig away from the cult¡¯s business had been quite the hassle.


    ¡°I know you¡¯ve waited for this,¡± Jordan said. ¡°The battle is over now. All you have left is one final test. Grab your gear. The others are waiting below.¡±


    ¡°Yes, teacher,¡± Einvig said. She snuck into her oversized blue silk robe¡ªan outfit more expensive than all the clothes in her village combined. She picked up her crooked staff and witch''s hat.


    ¡°Leave the staff,¡± Jordan said. ¡°You won¡¯t need it.¡±


    Einvig paused, then laid the staff next to her mattress. ¡°But¡­ I need the staff to cast spells?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re testing your channeling only,¡± Jordan said. ¡°Come, now. Let¡¯s not waste the Founder¡¯s time.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Einvig said. She put on her hat with nervous movements, then followed Jordan to the hallway.


    Jordan kept his head high as he strolled through the vacant, moonlit hallways. Ornaments and paintings had once decorated the mansion¡¯s pristine walls, but everything mysteriously disappeared overnight. Nothing but ripped carpets had been left behind, broken by the slavemaster''s clawed Gorthorns.


    The cult was a nasty bunch, one that Jordan wasn¡¯t proud to call his allies. Followers didn¡¯t mind a mess, and they certainly didn¡¯t care about cleaning another man¡¯s mansion. This temporary hideout would be fully relocated by the end of the night before the royals questioned why the city of Vol¨¦s had been without power for the past five days.


    Luckily, the royals weren¡¯t as quick at catching lies as Einvig was. The common-born girl wasn¡¯t nearly stupid enough to believe that noble mansions normally came with barred windows and a raging protest outside the estate¡¯s fences.


    ¡°You¡¯re a good girl, Vig,¡± Jordan said. ¡°Truly one of the best students I¡¯ve had. I¡¯m sorry for being so harsh on you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, teacher,¡± she said in a near whisper.


    ¡°You must hate me for my lessons,¡± Jordan said. ¡°Know that I do not blame you. The truth is the opposite. I am proud of you. You will never have to see me again.¡±


    She gave no response, keeping her eyes on Jordan¡¯s feet.


    They walked through the mess of a mansion until Jordan stopped beside double doors. He knelt to Einvig¡¯s level. ¡°This is it. Your final lesson.¡±


    ¡°Was I supposed to study?¡± Einvig asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ve already studied,¡± Jordan said. ¡°I¡¯m sure the Azetoth will be satisfied with your progress.¡±


    ¡°Azetoth¡­?¡± Einvig asked.


    Jordan opened the double doors. He lifted Einvig from the collar of her robe and tossed her in. She fell against the floor with a squeal, her hat topping off her head. She stood up in haste but fumbled on the hemline of her robe. By the time she was in fighting shape, Jordan had closed the doors, locking him and Einvig in the hall together.


    ¡°Teacher?¡± Einvig stepped backwards. Her arms shook. Without her staff, she was defenseless.


    ¡°We¡¯ve come!¡± Jordan called into the abandoned ballroom. The air was musty. Flakes of dust floated where moonlight reached; two full moons glimmered through rooftop windows. A grand indoor balcony covered the left half of the room in shade. The roses decorating tables had dried. Uncleaned platters were left behind for flies to enjoy.


    ¡°Azetoth!¡± Jordan called. ¡°I brought her, as promised. Show yourself!¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± a man¡¯s voice said from behind the opening curtains. ¡°I knew you¡¯d make the right decision.¡±


    The robed figure stepped down from the performers¡¯ stage. Azetoth, whatever his real name was, appeared like any regular mage of middle age. He wore an informal red robe with a cowl to cover his overgrowing hair. The first hints of wrinkles showed on his forehead.


    Einvig, by some instinct, trembled at the sight of him. ¡°Teacher? What is this test for?¡±


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Oh, my poor child,¡± Azetoth said, stepping towards Jordan¡¯s student. ¡°You¡¯ve learned well. I can sense it. The control of your magic, the mastery of basics. Your work is phenomenal. I am eternally grateful.¡±


    Einvig slid back. Through her ragged breaths, she sent glances at her teacher. Desperation showed on her face.


    Moons forgive me, Jordan thought by old habit. He knew the prayer was useless. His god, Goddess Akona, left her devotees to rot and her prayers unread. Following her principles was useless.


    ¡°Your teacher has proven himself a master at his craft,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°A month you two were together. Barely enough time to grasp theory, let alone casting. You, my child, defeated the Corruption faster than a wife learns to cook. For this, I commend you both.¡±


    ¡°Teacher? What is happening?¡± Einvig asked in tears.


    Jordan looked away. This had to be done. There was no turning back now.


    ¡°There is one lesson your teacher forgot to teach you,¡± Azetoth said. From the inner pocket of his robe, he pulled out a needle the size of a dagger. Sharp on one end, an orc¡¯s heart pierced through the other. This little invention was possibly the vilest contraption to graze the land of Kroses Sol.


    ¡°That lesson¡­¡± Azetoth continued. He stepped forward, now only a few steps from Einvig. ¡°Mages of your talent rarely live to see a day of free will.¡±


    ¡°Teacher!¡± Einvig screamed. Mana surged from her heart; her chords filled to the brim with power struggling to escape. Had she brought her staff, a sizable burst of rogue magic would have blasted Azetoth and his needle. Instead, only wails for help resulted from Einvig¡¯s month of practice. She backed into a corner, screaming for dear life.


    Jordan could hardly watch. His chords, too, filled with mana. Power that his instincts as a teacher commanded be directed at Azetoth. Einvig was his student. One that was in dire need of assistance. Jordan fought his instincts. He stood still like the coward he was.


    Azetoth thrust the needle into Einvig¡¯s heart. The girl screamed; screeched with all her remaining life before collapsing into Azetoth¡¯s arms. Life drained from her limbs.


    ¡°Good.¡± Azetoth looked focused. He held Einvig¡¯s body. The orc¡¯s heart, now connected to Einvig¡¯s through the needle, began beating.


    A heart, in anything related to magic, was the core of a wielder¡¯s mana. The heart of a magical being was directly responsible for controlling mana chords. Mages pulled power through their hearts like ordinary humans pulled energy from the food in their stomachs.


    When two hearts were connected, however¡­ In theory, odd reactions were bound to happen.


    Einvig¡¯s lifeless eyes continued crying.


    ¡°Very good,¡± Azetoth said, grinning at the beating orc¡¯s heart. ¡°Her chords are filling. The heart lives.¡±


    Jordan resisted the urge to throw up. ¡°Is she breathing?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°The body is dead. It¡¯s a miracle if senses register in her head. For the sake of our consciences, we hope she doesn¡¯t feel a thing.¡±


    You pretend as if this was any old assassination? Jordan thought. He didn¡¯t dare speak it out loud. ¡°Are we successful, then?¡±


    Azetoth held the body from the throat. The needle had solidified inside Einvig¡¯s vitals. It wouldn¡¯t budge without effort. Azetoth placed his hand on the orc¡¯s heart. Like a mother caressing a newborn¡¯s head, Azetoth put far more care into the second part of the experiment than he had in killing Jordan¡¯s student.


    Mana surged from Einvig¡¯s core. It traveled through the needle and into the orc¡¯s heart. Excess mana lit the orc¡¯s heart from the inside. Even the naked eye could see a faint glow. Then, the glow transferred into Azetoth¡¯s arms, into his mana chords, and to his own core. Einvig¡¯s mana was now his own.


    Azetoth grinned. ¡°The hypothesis holds true.¡±


    Jordan licked his dry lips. He held his staff ready to shoot in case things went wrong. This was out of Azetoth¡¯s instructions, though Jordan knew he had little chance of winning a fight. ¡°Any signs of madness?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°How does her mana feel?¡±


    ¡°It feels amazing,¡± Azetoth said. He pointed his palm toward the double doors. The glow of his mana chords translated into physical form as lightning shot from his palm and into the locking mechanism of the doors. Azetoth, through mastery of the craft, required no staff to shoot lightning more precisely than any archer¡¯s bolt.


    ¡°Her mana is effortless. Smoother than I could have imagined,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°The girl¡¯s mana controls as my own.¡±


    Jordan frowned. ¡°In that case, I have fulfilled my end of the agreement. It¡¯s your turn to heal Alyce, as promised.¡±


    ¡°Jord, my dear ally,¡± Azetoth said, and Jordan immediately knew life wouldn¡¯t be so easy. ¡°The experiment was a success. I am grateful for your contribution. But we both know that the mana of an adolescent girl is not nearly enough to be of substantial help in healing this particular curse.¡±


    Jordan stared at Azetoth. A deep breath was all that kept him sane. He valued his life far too much to say what was on his mind. So, he chose polite wording. ¡°This is not what you promised.¡±


    Azetoth placed Einvig on a dinner table. He turned to Jord and stepped forward. ¡°Jordan Feryah. You are still far too young. Far too innocent. Contrary to what followers of the Moons may believe, one sinful act does not turn a man into a manic God. Our work is tedious, just as any legitimate mana scientists¡¯ of history.¡±


    Jordan squeezed his staff. ¡°What are you implying? Was the sacrifice of my student simply an experiment to you?¡±


    ¡°Today¡¯s sacrifice brings us one step closer to our respective goals,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°This young girl has proven the theory correct. Magical transfer¡ªthe control of foreign power¡ªis indeed possible. The girl¡¯s body has created a fantastic mana bank. A weapon, and a proof of concept.¡± He stared Jordan directly in the eye. ¡°We have solved one problem off our lists. The second remains. If we truly wish to achieve godhood, a lot more needs to be sacrificed.¡±


    Jordan glanced at Einvig¡¯s body. He swore he could see tears, as if Einvig¡¯s soul still clung to life, unable to escape the torment placed on her heart. Jordan knew he was undeserving of the breaths that kept him alive. He spoke with little emotion. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    A subtle smile crept onto Azetoth¡¯s face. ¡°We will capture a mage with Hallowed mana chords. Someone with access to the spells of Divinations. I doubt even this will be enough to complete our goal, but Hallowed chords might just lead us to the real secrets we wish to untie.¡±


    ¡°You expect to find Hallowed chords to simply sacrifice?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°Not ten wielders are written alive. Those ten are among the few mages influential enough to threaten the country as a whole.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll snatch ourselves a queen, then,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°Small hurdles are not to set us back from the real difficulty of our research.¡±


    This man is crazy, Jordan thought, as if Azetoth hadn¡¯t proven the point enough times already. ¡°And Einvig?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°I will not allow you to drag her body along. I can¡¯t stand looking at it.¡±


    ¡°We will leave her as a trap,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°A test, if you will. I will order Averia to protect the mansion with her life. She is mad enough as is; the excess mana of your student will likely drive her rogue. When the royals eventually storm the mansion, we will bear witness to the true power of our creation.¡±


    The Moons help us, Jordan thought. Some years ago, in a time he barely remembered, Jordan was associated with the royals. He was devoted to God, teaching honest students. He recalled those times fondly. Good men filled royal ranks. People that Jordan certainly didn¡¯t want to see dead.


    Can I turn back now? Jordan thought. One sacrifice hurt this much, what more could he offer? Blast Azetoth in the head when he isn¡¯t looking. Blast myself as a punishment for my crimes?


    No. Jordan couldn¡¯t go back. The option of an honest life collapsed the second he tossed Einvig to her death. Jordan certainly wouldn¡¯t kill himself for his crimes. Not before he had achieved what he wanted. It was only polite not to let Einvig¡¯s death go to waste.


    Jordan Feryah was no longer a devoted man. And he would do anything to heal Alyce of her curse.


    ***


    Two days later,


    ¡°Please, you are adventurers!¡± The wailing grandma tugged at the ripped leather of Ry¡¯s harness. At the rip that Ry certainly didn¡¯t want to grow. ¡°My granddaughter. She¡¯s a mage! She was taken by the Count! Please, you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Calm down, Lady!¡± Ry called, pushing the hand off. ¡°Mages get snatched. That¡¯s just how it goes.¡±


    Members seated at the lounge of the adventurer¡¯s guild paid no heed to the commotion at the doors. The occurrence wasn¡¯t anything out of the ordinary. Beggars often performed to gain discounts through sympathy. Where was the guild master to kick her out?


    ¡°Einvig never misses her letters,¡± the grandma said. ¡°The Count did something to her, and I know it! Please, I just need word that she¡¯s alive.¡±


    ¡°The Count is dealing with one hell of a protest outside his estate,¡± Ry said. ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if Darko himself dared deliver letters through that mess. The estate is a battleground.¡±


    The grandma didn¡¯t look convinced. ¡°Please, at least memorize her description. I have her picture, matching every line of her smile. Akona help her see happiness again.¡±


    Ry was about to sigh when another arm tucked at him from the opposite side. Em, his companion, gave him that look.


    ¡°Ry, she¡¯s not trying to scam us,¡± Em said. ¡°Don¡¯t reject her out of spite.¡±


    Faced with his companion¡¯s disapproval, Ry knew he didn¡¯t have much of a choice. He let out the sigh he had held. ¡°We¡¯ll pass the word if we spot her. But don¡¯t rely on us.¡±


    Em nodded. Ry really didn¡¯t like that look. It seemed they weren¡¯t hunting cultists after all. When Em set her mind on something, she¡¯d spent every scroll and every penny finding what she was looking for.


    Em and her specialty in these damn search missions.

 1: My Last Mistake

    If I knew the afterlife existed, I guarantee I would not have booked this vacation.


    The trip was ambiguous for a jobless twenty-two-year-old New Yorker struggling to pay rent. It was a creative way to ruin my life and career, as my brother, Joseph, had put it. He wasn¡¯t exactly wrong.


    I was known by most as a rational man. Sometimes timid and too awkward for my own good, but I was proficient in enough skills to qualify for a good future. I had a degree in accounting and a good job history for someone so young. Few faults of my character stuck out on paper. Certainly nothing that would explain my sudden switch of common sense.


    The hotel room was tenfold more luxurious than my apartment. Clean with the scent of fresh detergents, AC dialed to perfection. I¡¯d spilled wine on the bed sheets, but that would be cleaned by tomorrow. I lived in an actual room, as opposed to the goblin¡¯s nest I called home.


    The lavish lifestyle extended to my actions. I added desserts to my meals with no regard for budget. I blew savings on experiences I wished to enjoy. A visit to the Colosseum, amusement parks, guided tours to museums I knew nothing about. If something caught my eye, I paid for it.


    My responsibilities, as far as I was concerned, did not exist. Bills were left unpaid. I¡¯d missed a dangerous number of calls from my landlord regarding last month¡¯s rent. I decided to block his number in hopes of some peace of mind.


    In short¡ªwhat sane people would deduce from observing the situation¡ªI was thoroughly fucked. I had no flight home to think of. No money to buy a plane ticket, and no paycheck coming to save me. My meager savings were spent visiting attractions I didn¡¯t actually care about.


    All of that was done by intention, planned weeks in advance. I was always kind of a smartass who took the most complicated routes to solve the simplest problems. Go ahead and guess what problem this insane vacation was supposed to fix.


    Admittedly, I wasn¡¯t at all happy with the actions of past me. I knew I would regret this decision. Which was why I made sure to rule out every opportunity to back down.


    In hindsight, I should have called my brother right there and then. Joseph would have had the funds to fly me back to New York. He and his girlfriend had a couch for me to leech on. Neither would have been happy to take me, but I knew my brother would have helped me back on my feet.


    Instead, my dumb ass headed for the goddamned casino, too embarrassed to back down.


    Out of my remaining hundred and fifty-four dollars, a hundred and fifty turned into casino chips. I went all-in on green without hesitation. Perhaps if the roulette landed in my favor a couple of times in a row, if a few zeroes were added to my balance, I could gain the willpower to haul myself back to America.


    The ball landed on black.


    From one bad decision to another, my remaining pennies found the liquor store, and I returned to the hotel with a cheap bottle of Spanish wine in hand. I chugged the bottle on the elevator on my way to the twelfth floor.


    I headed straight for the balcony. A perfect view of asphalt and parking lots lay below me hundreds of feet below. It was insane how high a hotel building could reach, and how tiny the guardrails of such skyscrapers were allowed to be.


    If I¡¯d had money for a last meal, perhaps the worst of my decisions could have been avoided. Unfortunately, my drunk self wasn¡¯t known for his emotional intelligence.


    I climbed on the railing and closed my eyes, balance wavering.


    ***


    I woke up in space. Stars of all colors surrounded me. Bright moons, distant supernovae, rays of light within the vast emptiness. No amount of sci-fi terms could have described the canvas, taken straight out of a psychedelic trip. This was not a sight telescopes saw from Earth.


    As my senses untangled, it dawned on me that I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about finding a way home tomorrow. I wouldn¡¯t be waking up to my miserable life any time soon.


    I was dead.


    Holy shit, I thought. I really did it¡­


    I jumped.


    My heart still raced. The sheer panic of the fall was unlike any adrenaline rush I had ever felt. I knew I had hit the ground, splattering into a million pieces. Nobody would mistake my death for an accident. Soon enough, my family would hear the news of my fate.


    The pain was gone now. All of it, including every ache I thought I once had. No back pain, no toothaches. No clogged nose, no headaches. My limbs were intact as if the impact had never happened.


    The pain was replaced by a sense of emptiness.


    Why was I still conscious? I was never supposed to wake up again. That was why I had jumped, was it not? To stop existing. Why, then, did I have the ability to think? Why could I still feel the soul-numbing regret pinching at my heart?


    Had I truly believed I had nothing to lose?


    I cried. I hated how I could still feel anything at all. Even more so, I hated myself for choosing to give up.


    ¡°Oh, poor soul!¡± A woman¡¯s voice filled the space. The sound came from all around me. ¡°This¡­ This is horrible!¡±


    I gasped. Adrenaline replaced my whimpers. There was no person anywhere in sight.


    ¡°Ah,¡± the woman said. ¡°Sorry. I need to show myself, don¡¯t I? I¡¯m sorry for the delay.¡±


    She appeared out of thin air, her figure fading in from transparency. She floated in the space in front of me. Her hair was silvery white, and she wore a white silk dress. No, that was wrong. Her hair was a rainbow, blended in with the space around us. And her dress¡­ A black gown fit for a funeral, intricate patterns woven into the silk, hem adorned with a row of black roses. The gown turned back to white silk, then the fabric turned to flowing water. Her appearance kept changing. Or perhaps she wore everything all at once.


    The woman herself appeared young, maybe twenty or so, but I was afraid to guess for sure. Her skin was smooth as glass, her body an ideal model at the very least. She blushed and avoided eye contact. She wiped a tear.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she repeated. ¡°This is my first day on soul reception in a long time. Clumsy me. I¡¯m sorry if my speech is inelegant. It has been a while since I last talked with humans.¡±


    I realized I was gaping, my perceptions in awe and disbelief. I struggled to stop. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°My name is Shiela,¡± she said. ¡°I am what your kind calls a Goddess. I am a moon on most centuries, sometimes a sun or a planet. A peacekeeper of the timelines. Today, I am a soul receptionist. Life¡¯s cycle has been unusually crowded in this world. Thousands of Gods have been called, even us novices.¡±


    The beaming glow dimmed from Shiela¡¯s eyes. I read sorrow in her look. ¡°Death takes a toll on everyone. Even on the world and the Gods. It¡¯s never easy to let go. Or to feel full, knowing self as a person has disappeared. But you¡­ Sweet soul, I¡¯m so sorry. I have never witnessed a being as devoid as you. Your death¡­ It was¡­¡±


    I gulped back tears, trying to force my emotions under control. Was my life really that miserable? A Goddess was taking pity on me?


    ¡°Your body¡­¡± Shiela said. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen so much blood.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said through a sniffle. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Shiela said. She looked away and hesitated. ¡°It must be warfare. My superiors warned me of this situation. Warfare is the largest cause for drained souls. No other existence but warfare would leave a tangle like yours.¡±


    What? I thought, unsure how to respond. Warfare?


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    ¡°You were sent to your death on undisputable orders, weren¡¯t you?¡± Shiela asked. ¡°On a death mission with an even worse alternative for declining.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± I said. I had never touched a weapon in my life. A steering wheel or a kitchen knife were the most dangerous pieces of equipment I was willing to approach, and I still got scared of drawing blood or running someone over.


    The correction passed through Shiela¡¯s ears. ¡°The creators owe an apology for birthing you in a world as cruel as this. Unfortunately, apologies can¡¯t turn back time. There is nothing I can do to remove your pain. Death is irreversible.¡±


    For a moment, we stared at each other. ¡°What will happen to me now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Shiela said. ¡°Usually, receptionists send satisfied souls off for life anew. I tell humans as many secrets of the world as they wish to hear, only for the host to forget everything, their souls moving on.¡± She smiled, though it didn¡¯t last. ¡°Your soul¡­ It¡¯s black. It¡¯s black as ash. You have not lived a satisfying life.¡±


    I looked down at my body. Emptiness filled my head. This was likely the last time I would see my dad¡¯s old Metallica shirt or feel the comfort of modern-age earbuds in my pockets. Even the Gods deemed my body as beyond repair.


    ¡°I guess I haven¡¯t?¡± I said.


    ¡°Black souls usually get eradicated,¡± Shiela said.


    I paused.


    ¡°However,¡± Shiela continued. ¡°I see color in your soul. You are kind. People cared about you. You were not poison to your world. Your world was poison to you. I cannot eradicate a soul unjustly.¡±


    I floated in disbelief. I had no idea what to say.


    Shiela let out a deep sigh. ¡°I wish my supervisor was here. She would know how to deal with exceptions. I know I will bless your relatives with a stable recovery after your death, but what will I do with you?¡±


    She rubbed her chin and looked around, occasionally glancing at me. Was the mannerism an act?


    ¡°I believe there is only one solution,¡± Shiela said. ¡°Reviving you in your world is impossible, even if all Gods worked at it together. The timeline would be destroyed. Instead, I could restore your body and mind somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Reincarnation,¡± Shiela said. ¡°I could restore your physical body and memories into a new world. A place where you have yet to be destroyed. Where you can attempt a satisfying life once more, in a world where your soul will regain color and turn to rainbows.¡±


    I felt like a hole was ripping my head in half. As if my emotions weren¡¯t a mess already. Mere men weren¡¯t supposed to deal with the mess my poor decisions had brought me to. I wasn¡¯t sure if I understood what Shiela truly offered. Hell, I could have been dreaming for all I knew.


    ¡°What if I decline?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Then I have no choice but to eradicate your soul anyway,¡± Shiela said. ¡°Worry not. Reincarnation is not as scary as you think. Thousands of war-free utopias exist all over the universe. Places where any soul has room for repair.¡±


    ¡°Are there people around?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Shiela said. ¡°No life is satisfying without companions. Translation magic works with all languages. I¡¯m using it right now. We gods don¡¯t have time to learn every language invented. If I infuse the ability with you, any language in the world will become as clear as day.¡±


    ¡°Magic?¡± I asked. ¡°You said magic?¡±


    ¡°Yes, magic exists.¡± Shiela smirked. ¡°It¡¯s commonplace in a lot of worlds. Spells and magical technology have been used and advanced for eons. Many earthlings have specifically asked to be reincarnated to worlds with wizards and swords. You¡¯d be lucky to join them and with your memories intact. Are you still considering declining?¡±


    I was. But I wouldn¡¯t admit that to her. I was so tired. If even a Goddess couldn¡¯t turn back time, to let me apologize to everyone for ending my life¡­ the next best thing was to stop existing.


    But, hell, this was another chance at life. Perhaps not on Earth, but still a chance. In a new world, where magic of all damned things was real. Was this not what I wanted? A break from life, away somewhere else.


    No. It wasn¡¯t. I wanted to reincarnate back to Earth, to see my family again. To beg for forgiveness, to promise I¡¯d never leave off on a whim again.


    It seemed I had no choice.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the reincarnation,¡± I said. Hopefully, I wouldn¡¯t regret this later.


    ¡°Great!¡± Shiela beamed. ¡°Let¡¯s start right away! Ordinarily, Gods offer souls a choice for reincarnation, letting the host choose where to awaken next. In this case, however, I believe I know the perfect location for your reincarnation.


    ¡°Kroses Sol, a country the ancients have named the Bane of the Land. The country of Heroes, glory, honor, and magic. The Krose are people of pride. They see their country as a sacred land, a gift given to them. In return, the Krose must offer their strength to the Moons who provide them warmth.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound special, perhaps, but Kroses Sol is amongst the happiest countries in the universe. The living conditions are above average. Black souls hardly exist amongst the Krose. I have no doubt you will have a fulfilling life.¡±


    I listened in silence. The name of the country already sounded ridiculous, at least when spoken in English. Kroses Sol. My new home. Probably eons of light years away from Earth.


    ¡°The magic in this world is simple, yet intricate,¡± Shiela continued. ¡°Most mages take years to cast the most basic spells. You, as a twenty-two-year-old male, would never learn magic to the level it would be useful. It would be unfair to send you off in a state like this.¡± Shiela offered me her hand. ¡°Allow me to offer you a little help. My touch will offer you the talent of magic. Take my hand, and the powers are yours.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t have blinked under her stare. My heart raced, faced with her beaming figure.


    Hesitantly, I took her hand.


    I didn¡¯t feel anything change inside of me.


    Shiela, however, seemed ecstatic. ¡°Perfect!¡± she said. ¡°I will let you explore your new abilities on your own time. I¡¯m sure you will find great success in your new world. Are you ready for takeoff?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and thank you,¡± I said, though ready was the last word my state of mind should have been described with.


    Shiela¡¯s appearance rotated faster and faster, and new colors appeared on her dress. The landscape around us seemed to spin around me. The floating stopped, and my body began falling. I flung my arms like mad, the panic of my last moments returning.


    Shiela floated next to me with a smile on her face. ¡°You will wake up at an inn in a small town at the edge of the country. A guide of mine will grab you awake. Follow guidance, and my gift will lead you to your new life.¡±


    The stars around me spun faster, and Shiela¡¯s figure slowly blended in with the landscape.


    ¡°I hope we meet again,¡± Shiela said. ¡°I promise this world will provide the life you have been searching for. My apostle.¡±


    That was the last thing I heard before losing consciousness.


    New world, new cultures, new everything. Who knows. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe learning new things here and there was what I needed to fix my messed-up head.


    ***


    Shiela stuck to the shape of a human female during her work.


    She disliked its limitations. The shape was impractical for anything requiring strength or agility, clumsy for dexterity, and limited in expression of thought. Most Gods considered human bodies useless for any task that did not require the manipulation of human mortals through menacing or attractive looks.


    Still, Shiela felt obliged to the identity. She¡¯d gained the favor of her subject with the shape, and she¡¯d keep the appearance for as long as her subject lived.


    Her station lay within the orbit of Akona. Akona was the largest moon (and thus, also a Goddess) orbiting Carillia, the God of this ecosystem. Shiela could have worked from the quiet comfort of space light years away, but when performing tricks, it was polite to inform the receiving end beforehand.


    A warning, however, did not guarantee that the victims would be any less annoyed with her.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that slightly too cruel?¡± Akona asked. The question was delivered directly into Shiela¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Which part?¡± Shiela formed a smile.


    Akona expressed disapproval. This, too, was delivered directly to Shiela¡¯s consciousness.


    In the shared space of the Gods¡¯ minds, the transfer of purest thoughts was possible. Lesser expressions were considered cryptic and unnecessary. Both of which were qualities Shiela took pride in.


    ¡°To send the boy to Kroses Sol,¡± Akona said. ¡°Not one of your promises was true in the form you delivered. You are aware of this.¡±


    ¡°I was called the Goddess of Mischief, once.¡±


    ¡°And let ¡®once¡¯ stay as is,¡± Akona said. ¡°Carillia does not require your trickery. Neither does your apostle.¡±


    ¡°I will argue that both statements are incorrect,¡± Shiela said. ¡°Cillian Bermeyer requires a satisfying life. Pampering will not achieve this. The man was spoiled enough on Earth, and you know where that led him. What he truly requires is a challenge to overcome.¡±


    ¡°You liefully forced him to accept a challenge several magnitudes harsher than what was promised. Death is a realistic outcome for your Apostle.¡±


    Shiela grinned. ¡°The future is up to Cillian to weave. I do not condone tangling my subjects in forced fate. What I desire is true determination.¡±


    ¡°And you decided to perform this trick during Carillia¡¯s slumber.¡±


    Shiela sensed a hint of uncertainty from Akona¡¯s transmission. True wariness for the future of this world. ¡°You sense it too, don¡¯t you?¡± Shiela asked.


    Another expression of disapproval from Akona.


    ¡°Carillia is in trouble,¡± Shiela said. ¡°The humans of your world are up to something. The planet itself is in trouble. Yet, you, the Moons of the world, refuse to act.¡±


    ¡°Carillia is in an age of nonintervention,¡± Akona said.


    ¡°To His own detriment,¡± Shiela said. ¡°I for one think sending a Divinity will be a fantastic addition to your affairs.¡±


    Apprehension and fear mixed with Akona¡¯s disapproval. ¡°Your decision may very well worsen the problems.¡±


    ¡°We will see,¡± Shiala said with a grin. ¡°It is up to Cillian now to shape the fate of your world.¡±


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level one]


    [Abilities: None]


    [Awakening activated]

 2: Fix My Life For Free

    I woke up with a throbbing headache.


    The bed was hard, like cobblestones on my back. The sheets were scratchy as sand, yet damp in my sweat. I tasted wine in my throat. Every inch of my body begged for hydration. I wasn¡¯t sure if my stomach wished to puke or eat. My limbs squealed and skin itched, struck by the fate of resting on this awful mattress.


    I groaned, then sat up and squinted my eyes.


    I was a dead man awake. Quite literally. I was never supposed to wake up. But there I was, feeling like crap now in a totally different reality.


    A moldy smell filled the candle-lit room. Colorless carpets covered the wooden floor, and no wallpaper protected the scratched-up walls. The bed was a simple pallet of hay encased in a wooden box and covered with a ripped linen sheet. A nightstand stood next to it, carved out of unsanded prickly wood. Everything was far cruder than anything I¡¯d seen at Grandma¡¯s.


    So¡­ This was the bedroom of my ¡°fix my life for free¡± reincarnation in a comfortable world. Somehow, I wasn¡¯t impressed.


    For a moment, I thought Shiela had tricked me. There was no way this world was above average in living conditions, as she had promised.


    Then I remembered the stone age on Earth lasted for well over two million years. Who was I to know how many worlds were still stuck gathering pebbles for weapons?


    Shiela had appeared so excited to send me off for new adventures. Was it too early to regret accepting her offer?


    Flakes of straw stuck to my dad''s Metallica shirt. My belongings were transferred with me¡ªmy shoes and denim shorts; even my mini sling bag was loaded with whatever little I carried along (an empty canteen, a half-eaten snack bar, and my hotel keycard).


    A familiar feeling pushed at my thighs from inside my pockets. My phone, my wallet, and my wireless earbuds were right where they always sat. Shiela hadn¡¯t taken them away from me?


    Surprised, I pulled out my phone and held down the power button. The phone buzzed, and, to my amazement, it turned on, as if nothing weird had ever happened.


    I stared at the home screen in awe. The phone had no signal, nor internet, but I hadn¡¯t expected it to work at all. The text app had even saved old text messages from when it was still on Earth.


    The phone also told me I had missed sixteen calls from Joseph.


    Well¡­ I thought, emotions unable to form. It would make sense for Joseph to call me. He did send me a call every night to make sure I hadn¡¯t committed unspeakable crimes on my own body.


    I stared at the screen for a short while, head numbing. Then I spotted something amongst the saved texts. A voice message from Joseph was delivered to my phone at eleven past eight. Just hours after the jump.


    My heart raced as I stared at the message. I was afraid to open it. For my sanity, I should have snapped my phone in half right there and then.


    But perhaps, for one last time, I could hear my brother¡¯s voice?


    A noise from outside snapped me to reality. Doors creaked open and thumped closed underneath me. Muffled chatter sounded through the floor. Someone made a joke. The others laughed. They stomped around, filling the whole building with noise.


    It dawned on me that not one familiar face would be found in this new world. I was afraid I would soon need to talk to people. I wasn¡¯t ready. My head couldn¡¯t bear its own company right now. How was I supposed to talk to total strangers from a different world?


    I listened with dread as a pair of footsteps made their way upstairs, toward my room. A knock came on the door. I flinched and, in a panic, put my phone in my pocket. Holy hell. This was really happening.


    I considered closing my eyes and faking sleep in hopes of gathering my thoughts. Instead, I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath to calm my heart. ¡°Come in.¡±


    The door opened. An old man revealed himself at the doorstep. A very, very, odd-looking man. ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± he said.


    I gaped at him. This was not in a million years what I would have expected to see.


    I knew Shiala told me magic and fantasy existed in this world. Naturally, appearances would differ from culture to culture, and especially from world to world. But despite the warning, I couldn¡¯t help the surprise. The man wore a light battle vest underneath a blue and gold jacket; something I would have guessed to see on a medieval noble, though the jacket had lost some of its color. A large greatsword, hilt adorned with jewels, was strapped to his belt in a scabbard.


    He was stocky and muscular, way more buff than me despite his age. His facial features were sharp, and his hair was full of graying hair. The few wrinkles on his forehead didn¡¯t make his appearance any less awe-inspiring. I guessed most women on Earth, even women way younger, would consider this old man attractive.


    He also reeked of alcohol. Cheap, yeasty ale.


    ¡°Cillian, the awakener from distant lands, correct?¡± the old man asked, looking at me as if I had hit my head. ¡°I was told of the immense potential you possess, outlander. Do you recognize who I am?¡±


    It took effort to look into his eyes. The headache wasn¡¯t helping, and the smell of alcohol made me want to crawl away and hide.


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t think I recognize you,¡± I said as respectfully as I could. ¡°And immense might be a stretch.¡±


    The old man frowned. ¡°My informant made sure to boast about your awakening, but they didn¡¯t care to inform me that their precious boy is from a totally different country.¡± He grabbed a chair and sat in front of me, ale-flavored breath escaping from his mouth. ¡°I¡¯m the Guild Master of this town. The regulars call me Huss. You might as well be a regular, looking at how you¡¯ve spent three days sleeping under my roof.¡±


    My brain struggled to process the information. ¡°Three days? I slept for three days?¡±


    ¡°Three days under my roof. You could have been gone for weeks for all I know. A coma is a common response for a recent awakener.¡± Huss cast me a sideways glance. ¡°Is it true, then? You have grown mana chords, as my informant claimed you had?¡±


    I smiled awkwardly, unsure what to say. Shiela had told me to let fate guide me, but she hadn¡¯t prepared me for nonsensical questions. ¡°It¡¯s my first day in the country,¡± I said. ¡°Magic is a foreign concept to me.¡±


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Huss appeared concerned, perhaps disapproving, not slightly supportive as Shiela had promised of her guide. ¡°A man has been blessed with a power princesses are jealous of, and he doesn¡¯t have a clue on what¡¯s happening around him. How is that possible?¡±


    My lips twitched. Was this truly the right man? ¡°I apologize for the odd question, but does the name ¡®Shiela¡¯ ring any bells to you?¡±


    ¡°My informant called herself Shiela, yes,¡± Huss said with a frown, as if I wasn¡¯t taking him seriously. ¡°Her letter asked me to treat you well. Could have paid me for it, at least. But hell, if it wasn¡¯t my job to look after people with pebbles in their heads.¡±


    ¡°Who brought me in?¡± I asked. ¡°Or did I appear in your bed out of nowhere?¡±


    Huss raised his eyebrows. He rubbed his forehead before his frown turned to genuine concern. ¡°That¡¯s weird¡­ I never used to have a bad memory. It¡¯s been a busy week. I can¡¯t remember it all.¡±


    What the hell? I thought. Did I have the wrong man? Huss mentioned Shiela¡¯s name, had he not? Had the Goddess washed the memories of an ordinary man and made him believe I was someone important?


    ¡°We have more important topics to talk about right now,¡± Huss said. ¡°Do you need a drink? The ale is fresh from the brewery.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good, thanks,¡± I said.


    Huss nodded. Then he walked out of the room, leaving the door open. I began to sweat.


    A few minutes later, he came back with two large pints of ale.


    Note to self: never use sayings with people from different cultures.


    Huss handed me the drink, and my once sharp skills as a negotiator told me I had no choice but to accept the courtesy. I didn¡¯t know what kind of ale it was, but the particles swimming in the liquid didn¡¯t look appetizing. I took the ale and cried inside, pretending to sip it.


    Huss took a large gulp of his drink. He burped, then said, ¡°Truth be told, you¡¯ve put me in a bad situation, outlander.¡±


    ¡°Um, I apologize,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll pay for the three days if you allow some time.¡±


    ¡°No, money is the least of our worries,¡± Huss said. ¡°This might sound slightly crazy, but listen carefully. Three of my best customers have been offered a mission. A huge one. Big enough that King Xastur himself is paying the reward. And it seems Prince Vitek is involved too. No matter how clueless you are, you should see how insanely important this mission is, and what the payoff will be. The King never offers missions to adventurers. This is the exact jackpot youngsters dream of, yet would never get the chance to chase.¡±


    He looked away and tapped his fingers on the table, as if wondering if he should be saying anything at all. ¡°Now, I can¡¯t tell if old age has been getting to me, as I truly don¡¯t remember why I thought this was a good idea, but I recommended you for the mission. As my fourth best customer.¡±


    My mouth hung open, brain struggling to process what the hell was going on. ¡°May I decline?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Your informant told me you have the potential to learn Sacred magic,¡± Huss said. ¡°As crazy as it sounds, you could be fit for the job, assuming you are smart enough.¡±


    I sat in disbelief. Things were moving too fast.


    Huss gulped down his beer. Half of the pint emptied at once. ¡°I still have my doubts that a male could have¡ª¡± He burped. ¡°¡ªearned any magical powers at all. In all my years as the Guild Master, not one man has ever cast a spell at me. They say that a male awakening with magic powers is as rare as a Krose woman being born with proper common sense. But right now, I have no choice but to believe you will grow to become the most amazing mage to ever live. Your muscles certainly fit the description of a mage.¡±


    ¡°Could I hear what the job is, at least?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Darko will tell the whole group when you¡¯re together,¡± Huss said. ¡°He¡¯s the leader of the party. Your future boss. His group has been waiting downstairs. They¡¯re good men, and they¡¯ve got the skills. They¡¯ll accept a talented beginner, but they won¡¯t accept weak wills.¡± He paused for a moment, then took another gulp of ale. My pint was still full.


    ¡°If you truly feel like you can¡¯t do this, I can find someone else,¡± Huss said. ¡°But there¡¯s a reason I said this is a bad situation. I promised Darko I found someone with the power of Sacred magic. To break my word would screw them over. Their departure would be delayed further. They could even lose the job entirely if they don¡¯t find someone as talented.¡± He looked me in the eye, waiting for an answer.


    Is this the part where I say yes to the desperate request? I thought. Surely, there was a better man for the job.


    Yet, Shiela had told me to follow fate. I was hesitant to decline any offer to avoid straying off the path. Huss¡¯s request must have been what Shiela set up for me. The adventure to save my stupid head from its own worries.


    But what if the urge to decline was my real fate, and I would break off the path by forcing myself to accept the offer?


    I didn¡¯t know. I really didn¡¯t know. ¡°I¡¯m in, I guess.¡±


    Huss grabbed my hand and grinned. ¡°Perfect. Prepare your best introduction, and don¡¯t make a fool of yourself. Show that you are in control, even if you truly don¡¯t understand a thing. Youngsters today can be apprehensive if they see weakness.¡±


    I smiled awkwardly, a dreadful feeling gripping my stomach. What had I gotten myself into?


    ¡°Darko¡¯s mages will get your mana chords properly analyzed to see what kind of magic you¡¯re truly capable of,¡± Huss said. ¡°I¡¯m sure Remy¡¯s heart will explode out of her chest when she sees a man with mana chords. Get dressed and haul yourself downstairs.¡±


    Huss made his way to the door. At the doorstep, he looked over his shoulder. ¡°If you play this right, the responsibilities could turn into the chance of a lifetime. If I was thirty years younger, I would have dumped the love of my life for the glory of this mission. I¡¯m glad you took the chance.¡±


    He closed the door with a little too much force. The candle¡¯s light went out, and I was left in the cold dark room. My thoughts were a total mess as I stared at the shape of the door, my eyes unfocused. I let out a confused whimper of laughter. This whole situation was ridiculous.


    A mission from the King himself? I thought. No way. If this was Shiela¡¯s impression of an easy satisfying life, I wanted the hard one back. Shouldn¡¯t an adventure start with low-level jobs, like finding a lost cat? I wasn¡¯t ready to get out of bed, let alone serve a damn medieval King.


    I had a headache. I slept poorly. All around, I felt like total crap. My head was already dizzy, and the thought of going downstairs to meet this group¡ªto pretend like I knew what I was doing as Huss asked¡ªonly added to my urge to puke.


    Darko¡¯s group, whoever these people were, needed a fourth member. That implied there were already three people downstairs. Three total strangers I would need to introduce myself to. If they were anywhere as demanding as Huss, I would die from the conversation alone.


    I stared at the dark ceiling, trying to come up with solutions. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I wasn¡¯t ready for this. I didn¡¯t know a single goddamn spell, and Huss already put pressure on me to perform. I felt like a lost child in an unfamiliar forest. This wasn¡¯t impostor syndrome; I was literally told to play the impostor.


    The negatives of the situation outweighed the positives, and by a lot. Why should I drag myself downstairs, only to be embarrassed and potentially laughed at? What reason did I have to try my best in this nonsense situation?


    There was no reason. I couldn¡¯t find one good excuse why I, logically thinking, should care about going downstairs and talking to people.


    However, even with all of that in mind¡­ I knew I wouldn¡¯t have the balls to stay in bed. If my past life had made anything clear, ignoring problems was never the right option.


    Groaning, cursing, and all around wailing inside, I forced myself to stand, and I made my way to the door. I hated everything about this, but I knew that if I stayed in bed and gave up, I would feel a million times worse.


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level one]


    [Recent awakener]


    [Abilities: Fireball, Carillia¡¯s assistance]

 3: Talented But Useless

    I left my beer pint in the room, having barely touched it, and made my way downstairs. The wood creaked under my step as if announcing me unwelcome.


    The thought was an exaggeration, I knew, but I wasn¡¯t lying when I said the building felt insecure. Any second now, the wooden excuse of a ceiling could have collapsed, sending me straight back to Shiela.


    Civilization had gathered on the bottom floor. Conversations paused as I peeked into what appeared like a lounge, the size of a large classroom. A stone fireplace and kerosene lamps gave the room an eerie dimness. The uneasy feeling extended into the furniture and decoration.


    No carpets covered the cobblestone flooring that could have been mistaken for a historical path of Rome. The lounge¡¯s circular tables appeared once lacquered, but the coatings had long worn off. And as if the room wasn¡¯t oppressive enough, a sculpted bull head hung on the wall, scowling directly at the stairs.


    The bull wasn¡¯t the only disapproving look directed at me. People occupied tables. Over ten in total, and more standing. Men, who clearly weren¡¯t ecstatic to see newcomers. On the table closest to me, a man with a sharp face studied me as he sipped beer. He looked like a rogue straight out of a video game.


    I glanced around for help, attempting to ignore the more than curious looks. Huss stood at the counter, tapping his finger. He spotted me, then walked over.


    He eyed my outfit. ¡°I thought I told you to get dressed.¡±


    ¡°I am dressed,¡± I said.


    Huss scowled at the Metallica logo on my shirt and at the bare skin showing below my shorts. ¡°This won¡¯t do. I can¡¯t let you in looking like this. Wait at the tables. I¡¯ll have to find something.¡±


    Wait! I wanted to say, but Huss had already turned. He disappeared behind the counter, leaving me alone in the lounge.


    Chatter hadn¡¯t returned. My heart raced. The looks made me feel naked. Everyone wore full sets of armor or a robe and cloaks to cover themselves. Some hid their faces under hoods to seal their identities. I wished I had done the same.


    My awkward standing wasn¡¯t helping. I picked an empty table in the corner, hopefully out of people¡¯s way. I was watched and examined during the whole process, as if even the way I sat was somehow wrong. I pretended I didn¡¯t exist, but my hopes weren¡¯t fulfilled.


    They¡¯re curious, that¡¯s all, I told myself. I¡¯m a new guy. They don¡¯t know me. I¡¯d stare too if an alien ordered a drink at my bar.


    Two late teens wearing what could have been described as roughed-up Halloween costumes were gathered near the wall, at a notice board showcasing pieces of parchment. Adverts, I assumed. The two weren¡¯t looking at the board, however, but whispering amongst each other. They sent me glances.


    In hopes of not being a total weirdo, I gave them a wave and smile. Both came out as awkward at best.


    I regretted my decision immediately. The man of the two took my wave as an invitation. He approached my table, while the girl stood back to watch with a concerned look. He rested his hands on the rail of a chair and faced me.


    ¡°Are you the one?¡± he asked.


    I leaned back by instinct. The man¡¯s leather harness under his jacket was filled with cut marks. The tough outfit extended to his features. Chin-length brown hair, and a constant expression of toughness. I wouldn¡¯t dare pick a fight with him. He could cut my head off with his sword in a second.


    Still, he looked apprehensive, especially of the Metallica logo on my shirt. On closer look, so did the rest of the bar. Everyone was afraid of me, just as they were curious.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t be,¡± he said in a near whisper. ¡°Who are you? Why does the Guild Master talk to you like that?¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± I asked, matching his whisper.


    The man glanced behind himself, at the girl who still looked concerned. He turned back to me. ¡°The Wyvern Slayer and his group are at the guild, along with Remyer from House Ravilles. They just walked into the basement without a single question! Rumor says they¡¯re here to recruit.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said.


    ¡°You are the one they¡¯re after?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe?¡±


    My response only made him more wary. The man was afraid to sit, and the girl had not taken one step forward. The mood was quickly becoming awkward.


    I held out my hand and tried my best to smile. If I wanted any chance at a decent life in the new world, first impressions weren¡¯t something I could screw up. ¡°I¡¯m Cillian. Nice to meet you.¡±


    He froze as if I had pulled a gun. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said and hurried back to his companion.


    I lowered my hand, heart racing. Where had I screwed up? Were handshakes not the norm here?


    Thankfully, Huss appeared not long after. A gray piece of cloth was wrapped around his arms. He tossed it at my face. ¡°This was all I could find,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s better than nothing. Put it on.¡±


    I complied. Attempted to, at least. I had no idea how to wear whatever Huss gave me. It was like trying to cover myself with bedsheets.


    ¡°It¡¯s a cloak,¡± Huss said, watching me struggle. He grabbed the cloth and wrapped it around me, then tied it shut. ¡°Not so hard. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    A sour taste welled in my mouth. I followed Huss into the employee-only area, both of us in nervous silence. We passed oak barrels and faucets through a room that smelled of ale and yeast. A lady in a brown apron wiped the counters of spilled beer. She offered us a nervous bow as we passed. Huss gave her a nod before descending into a narrow stone stairway at the back of the room.


    ¡°Allow me to warn you.¡± Huss paused on the stairs. ¡°Don¡¯t let appearances fool you. These three might look like dumb young idiots to the naked eye. They are idiots, at least when you let them be. In action, they are prodigies. I would not win against any of them, not at this age.¡±


    I nodded. The warning didn¡¯t seem all too serious, but Huss¡¯s look made me apprehensive. I followed him regardless.


    A gooey lamp of unidentifiable technology lit the basement with much more clarity than the oil lamps upstairs. The walls were of sturdy stone bricks, undecorated but for a lone framed painting of a mountain landscape. The room was a cramped but comfy negotiation chamber.


    A man with striking red hair faced two girls on a thick table. Huss stopped near the entrance to watch. The group didn¡¯t seem to notice. The red-hair gulped his drink, then shook something in his hands. He opened his palm, and a group of dice rolled on the table.


    The group stared at the results.


    ¡°Ha!¡± the black-haired girl said, a wide grin on her face. ¡°I won! Where did your luck go now?¡±


    The red-hair groaned, leaning back on his chair. ¡°One more slash and my points would have doubled.¡± He turned to look at us. ¡°Hey, Huss. Can you tell Remy not to order anything too expensive?¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Remy, the black-haired girl, said. ¡°The bet was anything from the menu!¡±


    ¡°Gambling again?¡± Huss asked. ¡°A shot of orc-eater clear is only three copper today. I¡¯ll make an exception and make it cost double, just for you. Anything for my best customers.¡±


    ¡°Remy will pass out from the taste alone, Huss,¡± the red-hair said with a laugh. ¡°Any sightings?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Huss said. ¡°The cult has been quiet. I bring other good news. The fourth member I promised you is awake.¡± He stepped to the side to put me in the showcase. ¡°This is Cillian, finally up and walking.¡±


    Three pairs of eyes landed on me. Huss put the pressure on me like an arrow to my chest. My words got stuck in my throat.


    ¡°Wow,¡± the red-haired man said, eyeing me from my sneakers to my face, studying everything the cloak didn¡¯t cover. ¡°That¡¯s a look. You weren¡¯t kidding when you said he¡¯s from far away, were you, Huss?¡±


    I could have said the same words to him if I wasn¡¯t clutching onto my mini sling bag like a toddler in trouble, afraid of speaking a wrong word. I had thought Huss looked odd and scary, but the appearance of this group was on another level of wild.


    Everyone in this room was a million times more attractive than me. I met eyes with the red-haired man and got a good look at his features. His face wasn¡¯t as sharp as Huss¡¯s, but he looked strong as hell, and his curious eyes didn¡¯t need a smile to appear charming and charismatic. Like the people in the lounge, he had a sword on his scabbard.


    ¡°Ni¡ª¡± I stuttered like the idiot I was. ¡°Nice to meet you! I¡¯m Cillian. Twenty-two years old. Uh¡­ From the distant land of  America¡­¡±


    ¡°Amreca?¡± the red-hair said. ¡°Must be far away. You can call me Darko.¡±


    ¡°Oh, America is a small town in the middle of nowhere,¡± I said, already wanting to crawl into a hole. ¡°The Guild Master said you are looking for a member¡­¡±


    ¡°We need a specific match of abilities, correct,¡± Darko said. ¡°Huss? I apologize, but I was under the impression that you had a she. A mage.¡±


    ¡°Cillian is a mage,¡± Huss said with a wide grin. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t believe it myself, but this young gentleman has risen from the awakener¡¯s coma.¡±


    Everyone''s heads perked up. Remy stood up and slammed her hands on the table. ¡°No way. A mage? But he¡¯s a man!¡±


    Huss nodded. ¡°I haven¡¯t had him tested yet, but I can promise potential. If I am correct, he has access to Sacred magic, as you asked.¡±


    Darko gave him a look, then turned to me. ¡°No way. I¡¯m not falling for these tricks anymore. Do you truly possess mana chords?¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± I said.


    ¡°Cillian is right here for inspection,¡± Huss said. ¡°You are free to study him. Remy knows how to appraise mana chords, no?¡±


    Remy looked at the others, unsure. The brown-haired girl sipped her steaming hot drink and shrugged. Darko nodded.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Remy said. ¡°I¡¯ll happily test him.¡± She adjusted her hair, then walked up to me, only stopping when she was within arm¡¯s reach. My heart raced.


    Remy was around my age. The type of girl I tended to avoid in the fear of embarrassing myself. That was especially true after my sweaty slumber. Three days with no shower to think of. I must have smelled awful.


    Remy didn¡¯t seem to notice. On closer look, her black hair had purple strokes to it. The silk cape on her back made her look like a fairy. Underneath, she wore a matching black and purple robe. Her staff was adorned like a gothic Christmas tree with a fortuneteller¡¯s orb at the tip. I couldn¡¯t tell if the ornaments on it were for show, or if the staff was a legendary magical drop from a dungeon.


    ¡°Your hand,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry; I will only feel your mana chords.¡±


    Hesitantly, I gave her my left hand, hoping it wasn¡¯t too sweaty. She touched my veins with her fingers, as if she was some doctor examining me for carpal tunnel. She could no doubt feel my heart pulsing.


    Her eyes opened wide. She looked me in the eye and grinned, still feeling my hand. ¡°Shena, you have to feel this. His mana chords are bigger than yours!¡±


    Shena sipped her tea, barely looking in our direction. ¡°If you say he¡¯s strong, I believe you.¡±


    Remy pouted at her. ¡°I¡¯m serious! He could create a storm if he practiced.¡±


    ¡°I said I believe you,¡± Shena said with a sigh. ¡°Not everything I say is just to make fun of you.¡±


    Out of the three, Shena was the most normal-looking. Short brown hair and a reserved, even slightly uncaring posture. She wore a simple brown robe and stockings with boots. Her staff was a crooked stick, unimpressive compared to Remy¡¯s. Still, the outfit didn¡¯t take away from the fantastical air around her. She was no doubt a mage or a witch too.


    Now, don¡¯t ask me about my preferences in women, and don¡¯t ever ask me if I found Shena or Remy attractive. Because, holy hell, both girls were way, way out of my league.


    ¡°Pure power doesn¡¯t matter this time,¡± Darko said. ¡°What¡¯s important is Sacred magic. Are his mana chords actually Hallowed?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Remy said. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen chords this large. This must be what the books talk about. I¡¯m positive he could learn ¡®Divine Impalement.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Interesting.¡± Darko sipped his drink. ¡°You¡¯ve got yourself quite the talent, Cilan.¡±


    He pronounced my name wrong. I didn¡¯t mention it. Instead, I smiled awkwardly. This whole thing made me feel like a piece of merchandise being tossed around at an auction. ¡°Thanks?¡± I said.


    ¡°I take this means he¡¯s fit for the team?¡± Huss said with a grin. ¡°Cillian is inexperienced with magic, but his powers are immense. His fireballs will pack a punch, let me tell you.¡±


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    Remy stared at Darko and Shena. ¡°He¡¯s in, right?¡±


    ¡°He has the potential. We need his ability.¡± Darko took another sip. The way he sat didn¡¯t appear too excited. ¡°But it¡¯s not possible. ¡®Inexperienced¡¯ is a stretch. Cilan just awakened. How in the name of Akona and her dozen moons do you expect us to train this man into anything resembling the mage we need?¡±


    Huss¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°Please reconsider. Cillian is an odd one, but I can promise you he won¡¯t be just a filler member. Teach him a few tricks, and he¡¯ll be as good a member as any.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that,¡± Darko said. ¡°Whoever takes him is a lucky Master indeed. I regret letting him go, but there simply isn¡¯t enough time. A guild master should know that a recent awakener is not going to survive a second fighting black magic practitioners with decades of experience killing people. And that¡¯s assuming we take a risk in attempting to quell his Corruption.¡±


    Black magic practitioners? I thought. Sorry?


    Huss tapped his foot. He gave me the ¡°Do something¡± look. Had I already screwed up? Was I supposed to convince Darko to let me in? Was this part of Shiela¡¯s so-called fate?


    Darko gulped down the rest of his beer, then faced me. ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate, but we can¡¯t take you. It¡¯s nothing personal. Our circumstances simply don¡¯t match. I hope you understand.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Remy glared at Darko. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. We can¡¯t leave him. The Houses will take him if we don¡¯t. He¡¯ll be eaten.¡±


    Excuse me? I thought. My body felt increasingly heavier as I listened. Eaten? Am I in trouble?


    ¡°I want him too, Remy,¡± Darko said. ¡°The plan needs his magic. But no mage can become a fighter in the months we have, not without an expert supervising every moment. Last I saw, no licensed teachers were willing to drop their contracts to assist lunatic adventurers.¡±


    ¡°So what if we lack licenses?¡± Remy said. ¡°I can teach him.¡±


    Shena nearly spat out her drink. She swallowed too quickly, then coughed. ¡°Teach him? Remy, there¡¯s no way you¡¯re asking to be a teacher. You can¡¯t teach a hound to sit; how do you plan on treating his mana chords? Do you wish to train the second coming of Soulstealer Stella under your name?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Remy said. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing. I might not be licensed, but I have studied the process in and out. I would never train a rogue mage.¡±


    ¡°Even if your skills are as proper as you claim,¡± Shena said, ¡°if you get caught, you¡¯re both in serious trouble.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± Remy said. ¡°We break laws all the time. I can¡¯t watch another mage fall into the Houses¡¯ power games. What do you say, Darko? I would be a great teacher, no?¡±


    Wait, wait, wait! I thought. There was no time to speak in between. I was too afraid to open my mouth even if there was. What ¡°Houses!¡±


    I glanced at Huss for help. The guild master tapped his foot repeatedly, engrossed in listening. He didn¡¯t see me at all.


    ¡°Remy, you¡¯re a fantastic mage,¡± Darko said. ¡°I won¡¯t deny that. You know the most magic out of anyone I know. But are you good enough for an awakener to trust his mana chords on your teachings? Are you good enough to teach ¡®Divine Impalement¡¯ in the months we have?¡±


    Remy bit her lip.


    ¡°The Queen Pope herself spent decades learning, and she¡¯s the most talented Krose mage to currently exist,¡± Darko said. ¡°And I¡¯m sure both of you girls spent years channeling mana before casting a single spell.¡±


    ¡°My whole childhood,¡± Shena said.


    ¡°Cill won¡¯t be ready for the mission,¡± Remy said. She walked up to Darko and tapped her staff on the floor. ¡°I know he will be a liability. But I can¡¯t leave him. I will not leave an awakener for the Houses to steal. Nobody deserves the life nobles offer.¡±


    Darko faced her gaze, then sighed. ¡°True enough. It would be a shame to see another talent fall to slavery.¡±


    ¡°I will teach him,¡± Remy said.


    The room went silent as Darko thought. Shena drank her tea, as if nothing was happening. Huss sent me a nervous glance.


    I had no idea what I was signing up for. But I knew from the mood in the air that whatever this mage slavery business was, I wanted no part of it. Shiela, the Goddess, sent me here for a reason. I had to make myself important. Probably. Maybe.


    ¡°I¡¯m a fast learner,¡± I blurted out.


    Darko turned to me. ¡°Cilan, was it? Sit down. Let¡¯s talk for a minute. What¡¯s your preferred drink?¡±


    I breathed in, taking a moment to gather my wits. In the name of fate, I ignored the warnings all around the room and sat next to Darko. I nudged the seat an inch to keep my distance. ¡°I prefer spirits or wine if I have to add alcohol,¡± I said. ¡°But cold water always works.¡±


    ¡°Beer is just alcohol-flavored water, is it not?¡± Darko said.


    Shena glared at him. ¡°We have work tonight.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± Darko said with a laugh, though the easy look was gone within seconds. ¡°Huss, leave Cill to us for a moment. He won¡¯t die, I promise.¡±


    Huss stood like a nervous brick as he glanced at me. ¡°Very well.¡± He walked out.


    ¡°Wine, is it?¡± Darko said. ¡°You aren¡¯t going to live long in this country with hopes like that. Let me offer a piece of advice for survival.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I would stick with water today if I were you,¡± Darko said. ¡°Huss¡¯s orc shot is one thing, but his wine is undoubtedly the worst-tasting liquid to ever make it to Vol¨¦s. And it barely has any alcohol!¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said.


    Shena sighed. ¡°Are all of your jokes about your drinking habits?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a genuine warning,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯ll order three glasses of wine for you bunch if you don¡¯t believe me.¡±


    ¡°No thank you,¡± Shena said. She poured a cup of tea and handed it to me. ¡°Drink this. It¡¯s healthy for the head. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s better than any poison the guild offers.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I accepted the cup, treating it like I would a newborn. I took an uncivilized gulp. Whatever the bitter orange liquid was, my dehydrated mouth tasted holy water. Shena was the real Goddess, I was convinced.


    ¡°You truly are from far away, huh?¡± Darko said with a laugh. ¡°No Krose man would ever step close to Shena¡¯s cups. Is tea a mage¡¯s drink, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m weird,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s my first day in the country.¡±


    ¡°We all come from different places,¡± Shena said. ¡°You a tad further from the rest. It makes no difference.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Darko said. ¡°Your choice of drink matters as little as the color of your eyes. What really decides your worth is your ability to blast spells at cultists before they kill you.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°Say, Cill,¡± Darko said. ¡°What¡¯s your relationship with danger?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked softly.


    ¡°How many times have you risked your life for a purpose you must achieve?¡± Darko asked.


    I froze in my seat, very much regretting my decision to ignore warnings. What kind of question was that? How many times had I risked my life? Hell, I was a modern-day American. I crashed a car once. I almost ran under a bus as a kid. Both were nothing but traffic accidents.


    I had killed myself once. Jumped off the twelfth floor, just to stop existing.


    ¡°Once?¡± I said.


    ¡°The three of us risk our lives every day,¡± Darko said. ¡°A single mistake could mean a head chopped off.¡±


    He stared at me, expecting an answer. My doubts grew as my brain slowly put together that I was, in fact, signing up for real life. Real challenges.


    Hadn¡¯t Shiela specifically sent me to a world without warfare? Why, then, was I being asked to risk my life just to fix my depression?


    ¡°Truthfully, I would never invite a man with your eyes to my party,¡± Darko continued. ¡°You¡¯re not a bad man; you simply don¡¯t have what it takes to fight.¡±


    I bit my lip. ¡°You aren¡¯t wrong.¡±


    ¡°If you hoped to join us for a free education, you¡¯ve come to the wrong place,¡± Darko said. ¡°If you believe you¡¯re here for a quick buck of glory, you¡¯re better off hunting monsters. Fame comes from defeating dragons. Not from fighting our own people, as we do.¡±


    Is this a part of my fate too? I thought, sweating under Darko¡¯s eyes. This was not how the vacation was supposed to go.


    ¡°Kroses Sol has problems,¡± Darko said. ¡°Problems that we work to fix for the good of our people. If you truly wish to join us, the minimum we expect is a heart to care, just as we do.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± The words got stuck on the pressure in my throat. ¡°I always give my best. Even if my best isn¡¯t any good¡­¡±


    ¡°Will you give your best, if trying means risking certain death?¡± Darko asked.


    No, was my real answer. Absolutely not. I knew myself. I was a coward. Always had been.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you can¡¯t join us,¡± Darko said, as if he¡¯d read my mind. ¡°It¡¯s nothing personal. You have a life ahead of you. You¡¯re the most talented mage I¡¯ve ever seen. There is no need to waste your chances dying in a battle with us. Practice some, and I¡¯m sure your feats will be written in History.¡±


    Great life ahead of me? What about the ¡°mage slavery!¡± A thousand alarm bells rang in my head, but I was too afraid to ask for a single detail.


    So, I sipped my tea, pretending like nothing bad was happening to me.


    ¡°Darko¡­¡± Remy frowned. ¡°He¡¯ll be written down as just another slave if we abandon him now.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Darko said. ¡°And I think I know just the solution. Teachers lurk all over the country if you know where to look. Even the Houses¡¯ teacher monopoly isn¡¯t absolute. There¡¯s someone I know, even in this miserable city. Assuming Cill wishes to strive for a life outside the system.¡±


    ¡°Outside the system?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You must have come to the Guild in hopes of escaping the horror stories of the nobles¡¯ slave contracts,¡± Darko said. ¡°The stories are mostly true, unfortunately. The nobles won¡¯t teach you without enslaving your freedom. But what young mages don¡¯t realize is that the real horror stories come from those who attempt a life outside cruelty. Magic is an unfortunate power to bear. Slavery is nothing compared to the risk of losing your mind to the Corruption.¡±


    What do you mean! I wanted to ask again, but I felt too stupid to say it out loud. I¡¯m losing my mind?


    ¡°The path I¡¯m about to suggest is not a pleasant one,¡± Darko continued. ¡°Life would be easier under the nobles¡¯ care. Few rogue mages come out of licensed teachers.¡± He looked me directly in the eye. ¡°If instead, you wish to keep your freedom, escaping from the nobility¡¯s laws, I have one hell of a journey prepared for you.¡±


    I sat with my mouth frozen shut. What was wrong with this damn country!


    Darko turned to Remy. ¡°Did I miss anything?¡±


    Remy breathed in. ¡°You¡¯re being too harsh. Good mages don¡¯t go insane. Learned mages are stronger and healthier than regular people. The Corruption only eats the ones who fail to learn. Every awakener needs a teacher, licensed or not.¡±


    ¡°Well, unless you¡¯re Shena,¡± Darko said.


    ¡°Shena is lucky,¡± Remy said. ¡°She would be a part of some noble''s schemes right now if she wasn¡¯t a self-taught genius.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Shena said. ¡°Is this the first compliment I have received from you?¡±


    Remy sighed. ¡°I would compliment you more if you weren¡¯t always so rude.¡±


    Shena sipped her tea. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°What happens to me?¡± I managed to ask.


    Darko opened his mouth, but Remy spoke first. ¡°The nobles can¡¯t have him.¡±


    Darko sighed. ¡°Fine. The hard path it is, then. Cill, I¡¯ll refer you to an illegal teacher I know. Blame Remy if this path proves too difficult. Shena, can you write a letter for me?¡±


    Remy watched with suspicion while Shena grabbed a quill and parchment. I shared the angst. The lack of understanding in this all was enough to get me nervous.


    ¡°Who to?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°You remember old Jord from last year?¡± Darko asked.


    Shena gave him a look. ¡°The one who cut Tiera¡¯s hair for alchemical purposes? I do, unfortunately. I have considered learning mind control, however, to delete my memory of that creep.¡±


    Darko laughed. ¡°That¡¯s him. Jord¡¯s got quite the clever setup in town. There¡¯s an old catacomb under Akona¡¯s church. You know the location?¡±


    ¡°Darko¡­¡± Remy asked. ¡°Where are we sending Cill again?¡±


    ¡°To an old friend of ours,¡± Darko said, ignoring Remy¡¯s glare. ¡°Shena and I worked with him in the past. Jord used to be one of the more respected, more skilled teachers amongst the royals. He knows his stuff. The Princess herself studied under him, until he¡­ You know what happened. Jord would be ecstatic to teach someone as talented as Cill, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Jordan Feryah?¡± Remy asked. ¡°Is that who you¡¯re talking about? The Princess kidnapper?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s him,¡± Darko said.


    Remy scowled. ¡°He is as illegal as teachers get.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s the best bet for avoiding slave contracts,¡± Darko said. ¡°Shena, just write something, Jord will understand.¡±


    Shena sighed, then inked the quill and began writing. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving my name on this.¡±


    I would have been impressed by Shena''s precise handwriting if not for my nerves about to make me crap myself. Where in the name of Shiela was I being sent?


    War-free utopia, my ass. I wanted to go home.


    ¡°This Jord guy¡­¡± I asked. ¡°What was he exiled for?¡±


    ¡°He burned a few public establishments,¡± Darko said. ¡°And there were a couple other accidents too. These events were all forgiven until he, uh, kind of kidnapped Princess Alyce. Sounds vile, but last I saw, the two were happily married and in hiding. A year could have changed things, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll take good care of our awakener.¡±


    ¡°Last time you were sure that drinking sixteen shots wouldn¡¯t get you hungover,¡± Remy said.


    Darko laughed. ¡°Vulusen¡¯s orc clears are a sneaky bunch. It¡¯s easy to underestimate alcohol that doesn¡¯t taste like swamp mud.¡±


    Remy¡¯s scowl remained. ¡°This is serious.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Darko said. ¡°Jord is his own man, I admit. But I know him.¡±


    Remy glanced at me, worried. ¡°If you say so¡­¡±


    Shena finished the letter, and Darko scribbled a signature. He folded the note, then handed it to me. ¡°There you have it. Ask around for sightings of a dirty homeless man. You should find him, or at least signs of him, in the church¡¯s abandoned catacombs. Don¡¯t dig too deep in the wrong direction. The cult has been active around the area, you see. The church should be safe.¡±


    Hesitantly, I took the letter. I had a near-infinite amount of questions I wanted answers to, but it seemed I had no time for any of them. ¡°Should I get worried?¡±


    ¡°A mage can¡¯t live without worries, unfortunately,¡± Shena said. ¡°Gremlin Jord is likely the best bet you have. He will make your life a living hell if he accepts you as his student at all. I know none of his students have enjoyed his style of teaching.¡±


    ¡°What a mage must do to avoid slave contracts,¡± Darko said with a sigh. ¡°Jord was a licensed royal teacher for a reason. He turns awakeners into damn good mages. There aren¡¯t many teachers as efficient as Jord.¡±


    Sweat and doubts ran down my back, despite the others¡¯ attempts to quell my worries. I glanced at Remy, the only member who still seemed concerned for my well-being.


    She shrugged. ¡°If Shena recommends him too, he can¡¯t be that bad. Anything is better than a life under the nobles.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said, as if I had any idea what anything meant.


    I couldn¡¯t read the note given to me. The handwriting was pretty, but it was all indecipherable scribbles. Translation magic didn¡¯t work on text. I knew I had to deliver it to this renegade teacher guy, but well¡­ something about the idea didn¡¯t excite me.


    While I was staring at the note, my eyes unfocused, Darko stood up. He stretched his arms. ¡°It¡¯s time we get moving. I wish you luck, Cill. If we ever meet again, let¡¯s make it on friendly terms. I¡¯m eager to see how the years treat you.¡±


    ¡°Shame,¡± Remy said as she picked up her stuff. ¡°I always wanted a student. Maybe some other time. See you around.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye¡­¡± I managed to say.


    I watched as the meeting a Goddess arranged for me came to an end. Darko stepped out, and Shena followed. Remy waved me goodbye, then left too. Their footsteps quieted down, and the cold basement fell into silence.


    I sat in disbelief. So many insane things had happened that my brain processed none of them. I felt as if I should be concerned with a hundred different things, but nothing had registered as a definite threat. I was just so confused.


    Had I screwed up? Was I supposed to be let into Darko¡¯s group?


    I stared at the letter for a while longer, but no magical assistance suddenly came to decipher its contents. Was the letter a part of the Goddess¡¯s plans too? If Darko¡¯s description of Jord was correct, Shiela wanted to have my ass beaten by a strict teacher, while learning a field I¡¯d rather not meddle with at all.


    Did Shiela have a plan for me at all? I didn¡¯t know. I simply didn¡¯t know.


    I should have stayed in bed.


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level one]


    [Recent awakener]


    [Abilities: Fireball, Carillia¡¯s assistance]

 4: Homeless Mage

    I crept back to society a few minutes after Darko¡¯s group. No form of exhaustion could rival the mental burden known as meeting new people. I hadn¡¯t embarrassed myself as much as I had expected, but I¡¯d received enough warnings to spark anyone¡¯s anxiety. My life as a mage was about to become a living nightmare.


    Huss waited for me at the top of the stairs. He leaned against the wall, looking annoyed. ¡°You ruined it, huh?¡±


    Screw you too, I thought. One hell of a guide you are.


    ¡°It was too good to be true, then,¡± Huss said. ¡°I guess I should have known. Darko¡¯s group is on a different level. To think they¡¯d decline one of the most talented mages awakened in years¡­¡±


    ¡°Where are the toilets?¡± I asked.


    Huss grumbled under his breath before pointing at a door in the lounge. ¡°The garderobe is being cleaned right now. Make sure you don¡¯t shit on the cleaners.¡±


    I didn¡¯t get the joke but gave Huss an awkward smile. I made my way to the door through the lounge. Conversations quieted again, but this time I was too annoyed to get embarrassed. I kept my eyes on my feet, pretending as if nothing bad was going on. I needed a break from all this fantasy nonsense.


    There were no male or female signs, only a single heavy door. An awful smell of waste slapped me the moment I entered. The dark restroom had no modern motion detection lights, not even a kerosene lamp to let me know where to piss. It took my eyes a second to adjust.


    Jesus Christ, I thought when I identified the source of the smell. I was faced with a wooden pallet acting as a toilet. A round hole was carved into the planks¡ªa seat that would likely leave splinters on anyone brave enough to sit on their bare ass. There were no flush buttons, no hand washers, not even a roll of toilet paper in sight.


    Sounds came from inside the hole. I wrinkled my nose and peeked down.


    ¡°Emergency?¡± a voice from below called.


    That was when I realized that the ¡°cleaners¡± weren¡¯t cleaning the toilet bowls and floors. Someone was inside the toilet, cleaning waste.


    I suppressed a scream and rushed out, forcing my way through the heavy door. My face must have been pale. A man nearly spilled his beer as I rushed past. I headed straight to Huss behind the counter.


    ¡°That was quick,¡± Huss said.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± I asked. The horrid smell was still stuck in my nose.


    ¡°I told you the garderobe is being cleaned,¡± Huss said.


    ¡°Is this country aware of the invention called ¡®sewage system?¡¯¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sewers?¡± Huss gave me a look. ¡°We are in Vol¨¦s, not inside the walls of Arkber. Our sewers work manually.¡±


    ¡°Showers, then?¡± I asked. ¡°Toothbrushes? Washing machines? How do you guys clean yourselves!¡±


    Huss sighed. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you were a noble, Your Royal Highness.¡±


    My words caught in my mouth.


    ¡°The bathhouse is behind the Count¡¯s mansion,¡± Huss said. ¡°It¡¯ll cost to enter, though.¡±


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    ¡°What about food?¡± I asked. ¡°A place to sleep?¡±


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Huss said. He poured a mug of ale for a waiting customer. The man paid in bronze-colored coins, in a currency I had never seen before.


    I felt like fainting there and then. Call me entitled or whatever, but this was too much. How the hell could I pee while a guy watched from below?


    Huss finished serving the customer, then turned back to me. ¡°I¡¯ve given you all I could. The best help you¡¯ll get from me is nothing at all. Guild masters are obligated to send lost awakeners straight to the nobles, unfortunate as it is. From now on, we don¡¯t know each other. Lie low and don¡¯t come back before you can prove your magic won¡¯t make you insane. Darko introduced you to a teacher, did he not?¡±


    ¡°What did they mean by ¡®going insane¡¯¡± I asked. ¡°They mentioned the ¡®corruption of mages.¡¯ Does it relate to me?¡±


    Huss¡¯s sideways glance only got worse with each question. ¡°Of course it relates to you. The Corruption eats at anyone unfortunate enough to grow mana chords. The bigger the chords, the more you risk. I would rush to the teacher if I were you. Better to enslave yourself than to fall insane.¡±


    My head wished to ignore what I just heard. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Magic is either a curse or an opportunity,¡± Huss said. ¡°Awakeners have two paths: enslavement, or power. Assuming they don¡¯t go rogue and get themselves hunted by the Mages¡¯ Association. Whichever path you end up on depends on luck and determination. Weakness is not a trait mages can allow to show.¡±


    I stared at him. Any more insane warnings, and I might have collapsed right there and then.


    ¡°Learned mages are often the most powerful beings in the world,¡± Huss said. ¡°Remy and Shena are no exception. The Corruption attempted to ruin them, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going insane right now, am I?¡± I asked. My throat felt heavy.


    ¡°From my perspective,¡± Huss said, ¡°you¡¯ve been insane from the moment you woke up. You¡¯ve got a week before totally losing your mind, I¡¯d say.¡±


    I stood there like an idiot with my mouth halfway open.


    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Huss¡¯s head perked up. ¡°I almost forgot. Before you go, my messenger had one more message left for you. She said it was important.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I said.


    Huss looked around, making sure no one was near. Then, he stepped closer and spoke softly. ¡°I have no idea what any of this means, but Shiela said you would know. ¡®The system opens if you say ¡®status¡¯ with intent. The system is still under development, but I have confirmed it as operational.¡¯¡±


    We stared at each other. ¡°Any insights?¡± Huss asked. ¡°What does Shiela mean?¡±


    Shiela deserves a punch in the face, that¡¯s what it means, I thought. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said.


    Huss sighed. ¡°Good luck figuring it out. Now, get out. I¡¯m serious. The Guild isn¡¯t a place for you. I¡¯m risking my place and authority by letting an awakener in the wild. You are not associated with me, and I don¡¯t want to see you again. Promise me, you won¡¯t go insane.¡±


    A lump had formed in my throat. It was hard to speak without letting emotions out. Any more insane warnings, and I would have cried.


    Make fun of me all you want. Call me a wimp, or anything of the sort. But man, maybe my soul should have been eradicated. I clearly wasn¡¯t built for this world.


    ¡°Go!¡± Huss said. ¡°Get out of my bar, before I throw you out.¡±


    The command registered. I fled for the door, walking past the lounge with my eyes on the floor. Everyone stared. I pushed the door open with the weight of my body and stumbled out.


    A gust of evening air welcomed me to the bizarre sight of two large moons orbiting the night sky.


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level one]


    [Recent awakener]


    [Abilities: Fireball, Carillia¡¯s assistance]


    Fireball - The bread and butter of every mage¡¯s arsenal. The fireball is inter-dimensionally the most popular choice of all offensive spells. Its effectiveness and power are hard to beat for a spell so simple to cast. I thought it was only natural for the fireball to be your starting spell.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400; text-align: justify">Goddess Shiela¡¯s description of the spell ¡°Fireball¡±</li>


    </ul>

 5: Bullsh** and Confidence

    Shiela might have been a Goddess with unfathomable wisdom and power, but the scenery of her grand night sky wasn¡¯t any more inviting than her excuse of a heavenly guide.


    I stood at the peak of a hilltop on a quiet porch. Dead streetlamps lined the stairs leading to the city below. Two oil lamps on the Guild¡¯s doorstep were all to guide me down to society. Somehow, I seemed to be rather far from sea level¡­


    Wooden rooftops filled the landscape. Crude tenements were crammed all around town. The type of buildings that looked abandoned when new. Light sources were sparse, for all but a glimmering estate at the very heart of the city. A noble¡¯s mansion, no doubt. Its fence shone like a wildfire, as if the perimeter was burning.


    A gust of wind pierced my cloak and grabbed onto the bare skin below my shorts. I took a breath, then wheezed a cough. The air tasted off despite the cold.


    Two freaking moons.


    I couldn¡¯t read the world¡¯s language. My clothes were improper, both for the weather and culture. I looked like a toad¡¯s foot amongst a world of princesses. I was apparently going insane, and I didn¡¯t have the slightest clue about what magic even was. At this pace, I¡¯d be found dead in a ditch by morning.


    While I was gazing down at the view, vision blurring from leftover tears attempting to escape, the door to Huss¡¯s Guild creaked open. Two teenagers stepped out. The same pair I embarrassed myself with earlier. I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath to calm myself, though my reputation was already in tatters.


    The harnessed man saw my reddened face. He approached me with a scowl. ¡°You were down there with Darko¡¯s group. I saw it. What business does a man like you have talking with legends?¡±


    ¡°None at all, it seems.¡± I avoided eye contact.


    He stopped a good distance away from me. Some apprehension remained. ¡°Are you a Gorth?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I am,¡± I said. ¡°Just another failure, I guess.¡±


    His companion clutched onto her belongings, genuinely on guard. She appeared like a smaller Shena with a softer face and less lively equipment. Scrolls of parchment poked out of her scuffed satchel, and I doubted they were for postal work. Innocent as she appeared, she saw me as a threat.


    ¡°If Darko didn¡¯t kill you,¡± the man said, ¡°you can¡¯t be a Gorth. Darko wouldn¡¯t leave evil alive.¡±


    I stared at the view below.


    ¡°Are you listening?¡±


    ¡°Who exactly is he?¡± I asked, if only to distract the man from getting physical. ¡°Darko. The Wyvern Slayer.¡±


    The man¡¯s gaze was disapproving to say the least. ¡°Darko is, and I will argue about it, the strongest adventurer in the country. His old group defeated a loose Wyvern on their own. Anyone who has worked with him is famous. Any Guild he enters, he gains free access to the basement. The room where only legends are allowed, where only the most important conversations take place. You were down there with him.¡±


    ¡°Ry, let¡¯s go!¡± the girl said. ¡°We don¡¯t have all night.¡±


    ¡°What business did a man like you expect from a legend like Darko?¡± Ry, he was called, loomed over my slumped figure, expecting an answer.


    I would like to know myself, I thought.


    ¡°Ry!¡± the girl said. She grabbed his arm and tried pulling him away. A loose scroll fell from her satchel, but she didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°Ry, stop picking fights. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°No, Em,¡± Ry said. ¡°I¡¯m not done with this sniffer. Answer me this, outsider. Did you believe you could join Darko¡¯s group? Did you lie your way to an interview? This is no place for the weak. Get the hell out of Vol¨¦s before you¡¯re thrown over the border.¡±


    I wanted to run. Anything to escape the situation. Perhaps I could become one with the grass if I hoped hard enough. What had I done to these people to deserve this treatment? Could they not see how miserable I was?


    Before I could come up with half a response, a gust of wind sent the fallen scroll rolling down the sandy path, toward me. Em, I assumed the girl¡¯s name was, made no effort to pick it up. She watched it roll until the scroll caught on my leg.


    Hesitantly, I picked up the scroll.


    My brain argued against my next move, screaming at me the whole way through. Ambitious conversations were like kryptonite for my nervous ass. A funny phobia for a former businessman specializing in negotiations and meetings, but there really wasn¡¯t anything I hated more than putting myself in the spotlight.


    Still, I approached the two. Slowly, to make sure my head wasn¡¯t cut off. I knew I needed friends; at least neutral relations with the civilization around me. Weirdos were always the first ones poached out of society, and at this pace, my secluded and depressed self was first in line.


    I held out my hand and offered the scroll. ¡°I talked with Darko about other matters. I¡¯m sorry for my manners. Your legends are unfamiliar to me. You can beat me down if that¡¯s what you want. I won¡¯t be joining your Heroes. I don¡¯t even know how to cast a single spell yet.¡±


    Bullshit and feigned confidence. The magic trick of my profession. Although I was never particularly amazing at my job. I was fired, after all.


    Ry eyed me suspiciously, but took the scroll, never taking his eyes off me. He handed the scroll to Em, who slid it into her satchel.


    ¡°Are you a mage too?¡± I asked Em.


    She shied back.


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®too?¡¯¡± Ry asked. ¡°Are you pretending to be a mage?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know if I was. Darko claimed I was talented in magic.¡±


    The pair stared at me. ¡°Liar,¡± Em said. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. Mana chords are rare amongst women. Near impossible amongst men¡ªless than a hundred are alive today.¡±


    ¡°I guess I¡¯m an anomaly,¡± I said. ¡°Someone called Remy examined my mana chords.¡±


    ¡°And you expect us to believe that?¡± Ry said, frowning. ¡°Where is the proof?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you, but you two will have to help me in return,¡± I said. ¡°By any chance, are either of you literate? As in, know how to read?¡±


    Ry stood his ground. ¡°Em? You think he¡¯s going to curse us?¡±


    ¡°If this fellow has the skills for curses, I¡¯ll accept my fate as a fooled idiot,¡± Em said. She turned to me. ¡°Why the question? How will our ability to read prove anything you¡¯ve said as valid?¡±


    I pulled out Darko¡¯s letter. ¡°If you could read this out for me, I¡¯m sure both of us would understand the situation a whole lot better.¡±


    Em glanced at the letter with suspicion and doubt. Doubts that I shared. If Em ran with the note, I was screwed. But, hell, I had a backup plan. If things went south, I could always send myself back to Shiela to complain ahead of schedule.


    Reluctantly, Em accepted the letter and unwrapped it.


    ¡°That¡¯s Darko¡¯s signature!¡± Ry said. ¡°What does it say?¡±


    ¡°Hey, Jord,¡± Em read. ¡°By the time you read this, I will be out of town. I¡¯m writing this on behalf of business, and business only. I¡¯ll cut your fingers off if I see you on my trail.


    ¡°I apologize beforehand for the decisions of our drunkard Darko. We know you¡¯re busy with your projects, but I¡¯d kindly ask you to stop whatever alchemical crimes you¡¯re committing for this one moment. It¡¯s a tough ask, I know. If you perform it without grumbles, I might consider offering my hair, too.


    ¡°The man before you has awakened. He requires a teacher, simply put. You know the deal. Make sure he learns how to weave mana. Though, I believe you might want more out of him. He is, after all, the exact student masters have looked for. Signed¡­


    ¡°Darko.¡±


    The teens stared at the note in disbelief. I took the opportunity to grab it from Em, back into the safety of my pocket. I desperately hoped I wouldn¡¯t get jumped and robbed.


    ¡°Drunkard Darko?¡± Ry gushed. ¡°Who wrote this?¡±


    ¡°Must have been Remyer,¡± Em said. ¡°You men are so lazy, even your legend hasn¡¯t bothered learning to write.¡± She sent me a look. ¡°Who is Jord? What creep are they talking about?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. My muscles were still tense. ¡°Darko said he¡¯s a great mage. A former teacher.¡±


    ¡°A former teacher, Jord...¡± Em thought for a second, her face growing concerned. ¡°Could they mean, Jordan Feryah?¡±


    ¡°The mage who got exiled for kidnapping the Princess?¡± Ry asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s him,¡± I said.


    ¡°No way,¡± Em gushed. ¡°Jordan was exiled. He has a bounty on his head! He lost his license years ago. We must have the wrong person. It can¡¯t possibly be him.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Darko we¡¯re talking about,¡± Ry said. ¡°Anything is possible.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying that Darko sent this¡ª¡± Em glanced at me, speaking softly. ¡°¡ªmage to an illegal teacher who''s hunted by the King himself? They¡¯re all in trouble if this goes public! Everyone involved would face contracts behind bars!¡±


    ¡°The royals wouldn¡¯t care,¡± Ry said. ¡°Darko is strong enough to ignore laws.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the royals absolutely would care,¡± Em said. ¡°There¡¯s nothing royals love more than to squash a perfectly competent and honest adventurer into exile. Mostly honest.¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Is the letter a fake, then?¡± Ry asked. ¡°An attempt from this sniffer to get to Darko? He could very well have lied about this letter. Forged a signature.¡±


    ¡°If that was the case,¡± Em asked, ¡°why in Akona¡¯s name would he show the letter to us?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­¡± I tried to say in between.


    Ry puffed through his nose, then laughed. He turned to me. ¡°You¡¯re for fucking real then? Darko actually sent you to an illegal mage?¡±


    ¡°I believe so,¡± I said.


    Ry laughed louder. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. We won¡¯t tell anyone.¡± He held out his hand, now smiling. ¡°I¡¯m Rykar. You can call me Ry. I¡¯m sorry for doubting you. Just friendly suspicion. I hope you understand.¡±


    I faced the hand, surprised. Perhaps even pleasantly surprised. Bullshit and confidence really do achieve one¡¯s goals. I accepted his handshake. ¡°I¡¯m Cill. Nice to meet¡ª¡±


    My hand exploded. So it felt like. Ry squeezed my hand so hard I thought veins would pop. I tried to keep my composure, but the pressure was too much. I let out a squeal.


    Ry released my hand, shocked. He looked around like a bully who accidentally hit too hard.


    Em pouted at him. ¡°Ry! He¡¯s a mage. He doesn¡¯t channel vigor.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right,¡± Ry said. ¡°Sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± I said, finishing my sentence. My hand was red, eyes watering. How was this kid so strong? His hand was smaller than mine. I thought I had a firm handshake.


    Ry smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°So, Cill¡­ Where is Jord? The letter didn¡¯t mention where to find him. If you need a guide, we¡¯ve lived our whole lives in this town.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know any churches in the area?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The church?¡± Ry asked. He grinned. ¡°Come with us. We¡¯ll show you. It¡¯s an honor to help Darko¡¯s associates.¡±


    Em looked as if she wished to argue. Ry ignored her look and stepped down the stairs, toward the heart of the city. Em pouted but walked after Ry. I followed last.


    ¡°Just so you know, I¡¯m not associated with you or this crime,¡± Em said. She spoke from over her shoulder, walking a few steps ahead of me. ¡°We¡¯ll show you the church, and nothing else. We can¡¯t be blamed for offering directions. If anyone asks, you and I don¡¯t know each other.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Em nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about my companion. Our jobs haven¡¯t paid as much as we would have liked lately. Ry has been on edge.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s thanks to your timidness, Em,¡± Ry said. ¡°Darko¡¯s associate won¡¯t snitch on us. If we don¡¯t get caught, no crimes will be listed.¡±


    We continued in silence, Em pouting at Ry¡¯s back. Moonlight alone showed me where to place my foot. My descent was embarrassingly careful. Ry walked fast, and the stairs had no guardrails. I felt dizzy. Some food would have helped. I wasn¡¯t starving yet. I just hoped someone would feed me when things got bad. Currently, Shena¡¯s tea was all to recover from my three-day slumber.


    ¡°Are you really a mage?¡± Em asked quietly.


    ¡°So everyone says,¡± I said. ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious what I am?¡± Em asked. She readjusted her bag of scrolls.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s my first day in the country.¡±


    ¡°Liar,¡± Em said. ¡°Vol¨¦s is a three-day trip from the border.¡±


    ¡°I was asleep on the way here,¡± I said. Technically true. ¡°The awakeners'' coma, they say. I¡¯m clueless. Please, be patient with me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an incantator,¡± Em said. ¡°A mage without mana chords.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°The ¡®Corruption¡¯ only eats at mana chords, right? I¡¯m apparently going insane by the second.¡±


    ¡°All people ever talk about are the corrupt mages,¡± Em said. ¡°What about all the awesome ones, like Remyer? The mages who don¡¯t have to spend a fortune burning a scroll to cast a simple spell. You mages have it easy compared to us.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked. ¡°Are they different from you?¡±


    ¡°Of course you are,¡± Em said. ¡°I¡¯m an incantator. I don¡¯t cast spells through the control of mana. I burn disposable scrolls. All I own are low level-spells, and even this bag costs a fortune. You don¡¯t want to know how many fireballs I¡¯ve wasted burning muggers.¡± Em wore a gloomy look. ¡°I¡¯m jealous. I would happily live under a noble¡¯s rule if it meant I could cast a spell all on my own.¡±


    I shared the look. I was jealous too, of anyone who didn¡¯t have to deal with whatever I was about to experience.


    The cramped city started after the stairs ended. With buildings came smells. The worst of the wooden construction of Vol¨¦s (Shiela help me if I ever had to pronounce the name) smelled musty even from the outside. And where mold didn¡¯t pinch my senses, a subtle smell of fertilizers and waste made sure not one bit of fresh air made it to my brain.


    The dirt path was wide enough for two small car lanes, though the only traffic was on foot. Occasional metal lamp posts were in place, but all of them were dead despite the darkness. Something about the mood felt off, as if the city wasn¡¯t alive at all. If I picked a house from the street, I doubted a grandma would offer me cookies.


    A lamp flickered on, making me jump. The light stayed for a second, followed by a goodbye screech. The lamp died. So did my heart.


    ¡°Jesus!¡± I said by reflex. The others looked at me weirdly. ¡°What¡¯s up with this city?¡±


    ¡°Mana blackout,¡± Ry said as we walked from one dark alley to the next. ¡°It¡¯s been like this for two weeks now, and officials aren¡¯t doing anything about it. The royals in Vol¨¦s have been exceptionally useless. Count Felrish claims that the mana wells have emptied and that we¡¯re only waiting for them to recharge. It¡¯ll be fixed, he says. But his words are proven as lies. The wells are as healthy as ever. The power is going somewhere else. Someone is taking it.¡±


    This world has power, then? I thought, suddenly hopeful.


    ¡°The count is trying to buy himself time before the King himself gets involved,¡± Ry said. ¡°He knows he will lose face if he can¡¯t solve the blackout. He¡¯s trying to appear useful and independent at the cost of his own people¡¯s livelihoods. It¡¯s a mess, this whole city.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± I said. It seemed my promised ¡®happy country¡¯ had its problems too. I just hoped I wouldn¡¯t have to take part in fixing any of this. ¡°Is there anything I need to know? Any streets I shouldn¡¯t visit? I¡¯m sorry for visiting unaware. I didn¡¯t have time to study your customs and culture. I kind of just fell asleep and woke up here.¡±


    ¡°Vol¨¦s is not dangerous, don¡¯t worry,¡± Em said. ¡°We¡¯re secluded and rich with natural mana. Outsiders like to call our town the ¡®asshole of Kroses Sol.¡¯ It¡¯s a good nickname for an agricultural city with nothing but farms surrounding downtown. If we truly are assholes, then that means the rest of the country must be eating our waste. I quite like it here.¡±


    ¡°I would agree,¡± Ry said, ¡°if not for our Count applying for the position of dumbass. We aren¡¯t producing crap without mana powering pipes. Not to mention, the cultists¡¯ arrival has turned everyone into skittish little sniffers, afraid of stepping out of their homes.¡±


    I was about to ask about the cultists, but bustling noise in the distance broke my thoughts. Lights shone below. It looked as if torches were spread over what appeared like a market square.


    The closer we got, the louder the sounds. They sounded like cheers and shouts, as if a gladiator battle was taking place. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I asked.


    Ry frowned. ¡°You¡¯ll see. We can¡¯t take a detour this time.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    With no response, the two turned the corner, stepping into the market square.


    It turned out, the fire I had seen from above wasn¡¯t an illusion, nor was it for decoration. A mob of a few hundred people filled the square, lifting their torches at the Count¡¯s estate. Some yelled, others stood around with their torches lifted. Everyone made their presence clear. I couldn¡¯t make out words from their yells. It wasn¡¯t ear-piercingly loud, but annoying enough to ruin sleep.


    Holy shit, I thought as I followed Ry and Em through the side of the square. We passed market stalls and merchants, all looking tired. Most stalls were empty, few fruits remaining at the bottom of their containers. None were filled with customers. Merchants didn¡¯t bother advertising, not even smiling at us as we passed.


    I would have long turned back if not for Ry¡¯s confidence in clearing a way. He picked the least angry parts of the mob, shouting for people to move. I stayed close, making sure not to get lost in the crowd.


    We moved at a steady pace until something stopped us. A frail man standing with a support stick stood in our way. The man glowered at Ry from below.


    ¡°Adventurers,¡± the man said. ¡°You pathetic excuses. Why is the city still out of power!¡±


    ¡°Your enemies are over there, sir.¡± Ry pointed at the count¡¯s estate. ¡°We are on your side. Complain to the royals, if you want this over quickly.¡±


    ¡°It would be over already if you adventurers did something!¡± the man said. ¡°I¡¯m sure the cult is behind this! The fake cult! Take it out already!¡±


    My heart began racing. The crowd in our immediate surroundings cleared an area, watching the scene.


    ¡°We are on our way,¡± Ry said. ¡°Blocking us won¡¯t get mana back to the city.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about mana,¡± the man said. ¡°The cult took my sister. Won¡¯t you bring her back? I can¡¯t pay, but¡­ isn¡¯t this something you adventurers should help with!¡±


    Em stepped forward. ¡°What does she look like? What¡¯s her name?¡±


    ¡°Lya,¡± the man said. ¡°She¡¯s a big annoying wretch. You¡¯ll know when you see her. Please, bring her back.¡±


    Em nodded. ¡°I promise to try my best.¡±


    The man looked doubtful but moved out of the way, grumbling, ¡°Pathetic adventurers.¡±


    Ry didn¡¯t glance back as we passed. Em looked worried.


    ¡°Bring death to fake Azetoth and his pretender cult!¡± the man shouted after us.


    ¡°Death to Azetoth!¡± the crowd repeated. ¡°Death to the fake cult!¡±


    Ry kept moving, and I followed him. We didn¡¯t stop until we were out of the crowd.


    ¡°What is the cult?¡± I asked, the mob¡¯s shouting still loud behind us. ¡°Darko talked about it too. Is this the same one?¡±


    Ry and Em shared a frown. ¡°The cult of Azetoth. You know, the old myth.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. And before I was made fun of, I added, ¡°I¡¯m not from around here. Your myths are foreign to me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a tale from the Dragon Wall,¡± Ry said. ¡°You know, the place where legends fought monsters during the Age of Dragons. The war that Dragon Eater Cerdri ended. Surely word of this has reached wherever you come from. The most uneducated of serfs know the legends of Cerdri.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I said. Sweat beaded on my face, and not only from the heat of the torches. ¡°Cerdri, of course.¡±


    Ry nodded. ¡°The original Azetoth was Cerdri¡¯s acquaintance in history. A strong and respected mage, until Azetoth betrayed the Defenders to start a cult in his name. Some crazy events are written in history regarding the cult¡¯s activities. Azetoth had all sorts of weird ideologies, but mostly his cult¡¯s goal was to end the world because humans are apparently unhealthy to the world.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Em said. ¡°That¡¯s what they recorded in books, but the books were written by Cerdri¡¯s followers¡ªthe ones who ended the cult. The cult¡¯s own writings were burned and ridiculed.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying Cerdri was in the wrong?¡± Ry asked.


    ¡°No!¡± Em said. ¡°I¡¯m saying we don¡¯t know much because the cult is practically ancient. Stop redefining the words I use.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too hard to read, Em.¡± Ry sighed. ¡°Point is, people are unsure whether the cult existed at all. Most had forgotten them, until a few months ago, when some crazy group of sinners resurfaced in their name. Their new leader took the old identity, calling himself Azetoth. They¡¯re the kind of people who violate the Order of magic for the sake of breaking rules.¡±


    ¡°The Order is not something sane people break on a whim,¡± Em said. ¡°Followers of the group proudly call themselves ¡®cultists.¡¯ That alone shows how crazy they are. It¡¯s not a group we should mess with.¡±


    Ry frowned. ¡°The cult is a bunch of losers, that¡¯s all. The rewards for catching one are exaggerated. The guild wants to get the problem solved quickly.¡±


    ¡°A lot of young mages have gone missing lately,¡± Em said in a near whisper.


    Ry sighed, shaking his head. ¡°Cill, you saw the poster, right? Fifty copper marks for a dead cultist, and ten silver for a living one. The guild wants them alive to figure out what¡¯s behind all this. The rewards are insane. We¡¯re going for the quest after dropping you off. We¡¯ll live for months if we catch a single cultist.¡± He turned to Em. ¡°Which is why I¡¯ve been telling you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ry, you dimwit,¡± Em cut in. ¡°Do you think I can¡¯t count? Of course the rewards are insane. It¡¯s a death cult we¡¯re talking about!¡±


    Ry shook his head and shrugged at me, as if I was supposed to understand him.


    ¡°And what if¡­¡± Em asked. ¡°What if the cultists really do use black magic?¡±


    Ry didn¡¯t seem to hear. He lifted his head towards a stone chapel. A sculpture of a crescent moon was built into the tip of the triangular roof. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± he said. ¡°Now, where is our heretic hiding?¡±


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level one]


    [Recent awakener]


    [Abilities: Fireball, Carillia¡¯s assistance]

 6: Puppet Girl

    ¡°Will he really be fine?¡± Remy asked, still looking worried. ¡°You aren¡¯t as certain as you pretend.¡±


    ¡°Jord will take care of him,¡± Darko said. ¡°We have our own mission to worry about tonight.¡±


    Darko placed down his bags and sat on the creaky bed. His back already itched, knowing he¡¯d likely sleep at the Guild again. He doubted he would get much sleep for tomorrow¡¯s early wakeup. No matter how strong of a swordsman he became, how many disasters he triumphed, a luxurious bed was always the one thing out of reach.


    No, that was a lie. A proper bed was far from the only thing out of reach. Most hopes, in fact, were physically impossible, even for the strongest of the strong. If only Azetoth¡¯s cult realized this. Would make Darko¡¯s life a whole lot easier.


    ¡°We should have escorted him,¡± Remy said. ¡°You saw him. He¡¯s like a motherless child. He¡¯ll get himself killed before finding the catacombs.¡±


    ¡°Have some hope,¡± Darko said. ¡°Zara Fel Blythe didn¡¯t become a legend by having her hands held shut. She cleared the path for herself, even when things looked impossible. That¡¯s how life is amongst the Krose.¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡± Remy crossed her arms. ¡°I just don¡¯t have high hopes for the path he¡¯s about to clear. We should have helped him over the first step.¡±


    ¡°We built the stairs,¡± Darko said. ¡°If he falls, it¡¯s on him. He needs to stand up and try again, or he can give up and succumb to the nobles. Fate made his path hell from the moment he awakened. An easy life is not an option for mages. He needs to realize that sooner or later.¡±


    ¡°True enough,¡± Remy said, though looked as if she still disagreed. ¡°But the stairs we built aren¡¯t exactly solid, and falling isn¡¯t without consequences. What if he hits his head when he trips?¡±


    ¡°No matter Cillian¡¯s resolve,¡± Shena said, ¡°Jord is a questionable choice for a teacher. I know Jord has committed his fair share of cardinal sins, alchemically and magically. And morally.¡±


    Darko breathed in. He wanted to say he trusted Jord. They had worked together. Everyone knew Jord¡¯s suspicious background. But the girls¡¯ doubts weren¡¯t wrong. Jord had no filter. The man did whatever he could to achieve his goals, even breaking the laws of magic. A thin line separated him from total maniacs like Azetoth. That line was within the nature of the goals themselves. Azetoth wished to perform his own power fantasy, while Jord simply wished to marry someone he wasn¡¯t supposed to.


    ¡°Cillian¡¯s teacher isn¡¯t the only problem,¡± Shena said. ¡°How are we going to find another wielder of Sacred magic? Last I read, Cindra is the only publicly known wielder who would ever consider working for pay, and she¡¯s performing duty at the Dragon Wall. We are too broke to hire her regardless.¡±


    Darko leaned on his arm, thinking.


    ¡°It might have been a mistake to let Cillian go,¡± Shena said. ¡°He could have been our last realistic chance.¡±


    ¡°The time spent training him would have lost us the mission,¡± Darko said.


    Shena stared into his eyes. ¡°The mission matters little. We¡¯re fighting to stop the cult from kidnapping any more innocents, not to become rich. I will stay on this path for the smallest chance that my friends are still alive. The King¡¯s meager reward is an insult to every Gorthorn in the country.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Darko said. ¡°It¡¯s not the reward we need out of the mission. It¡¯s Prince Vitek. We need his involvement, and that¡¯s only possible if the King believes we¡¯re reliable. Trust me, Vitek will be magnitudes more useful than any beginner mage. You will see when you meet him.¡±


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you¡¯re friends with a prince,¡± Remy said with a sigh.


    Darko laughed. ¡°Vitek isn¡¯t just a friend. He¡¯s a damn strong brawler. And what¡¯s better, he has access to the Royal Weaponry, hallowed as places can be. We don¡¯t necessarily need magic. Sacred swords will cut the Archpriests just as smoothly.¡±


    Shena frowned. ¡°We would need the Goddesses¡¯ Moonblades for simple weapons to make any difference. I doubt Prince Vitek has access to those.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± Darko said. ¡°The plan is still unclear. Vitek will know what¡¯s possible and what¡¯s not.¡±


    Shena didn¡¯t look convinced.


    ¡°For now, Vol¨¦s is what we¡¯re concerned about,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain I figured out who¡¯s stealing from the mana wells. We¡¯ll clear Vol¨¦s of cultists tonight.¡±


    ¡°Who is it?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you,¡± Darko said. ¡°Remy, grab the urn. I suspect it¡¯ll feast with souls tonight.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m coming for support, I presume,¡± Shena said. She picked up her staff and stood, ready to leave.


    Darko stretched as an answer. Shena wouldn¡¯t stay back even if she was ordered. They headed for the door. ¡°Let¡¯s get this done quickly,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯d prefer if I got some sleep tonight.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Hello, good citizens,¡± Darko said to the line of torches outside the spiked fence. The city folk of Vol¨¦s were a tenacious bunch, lined up like sentries containing a dragon. No man would enter or escape the Count¡¯s mansion unspotted, not unless they had the ability to fly. Darko unfortunately didn¡¯t. ¡°How are the torches holding?¡±


    ¡°Screw off, or offer some fucking help,¡± said the man closest to Darko.


    Then the man spotted Shena¡¯s staff and her disapproving eyes. His face went pale. ¡°I meant, we could use some more wood, but thanks for the concern.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Darko said. The man clearly hadn¡¯t slept enough. ¡°Clear a path for me, will you? I¡¯ve brought better help than simple torches.¡±


    The man looked at them sideways. ¡°And what would that be?¡±


    Darko pulled out his glyphsword. The man froze for a second before the command registered. He stepped out of the way, and so did his fellow protestors. Darko approached the fence.


    ¡°Adventurers!¡± ¡°The Guild sent a mage!¡± Whispers came from around. Before long, the whole city would hear of whatever Darko and his idiots were up to. The luxury of being unrecognized wouldn¡¯t last an hour.


    Darko channeled vigor through his arms and into the hilt of his glyphsword. The intricate carvings, called glyphs, were spread across the grip and handle. The carvings sucked vigor from Darko¡¯s hand at an alarming rate, like how a staff shaped a mage¡¯s mana.


    Men of talent rarely gained access to magic, as women did. Instead, men wielded vigor. Otherwise known as ¡°muscle magic¡± for its power to turn men into beasts, to enhance a human body far beyond what muscles were intended to withstand.


    Darko¡¯s sword, In the most basic terminology, was a heavily modified classic glyphsword. Glyphswords were the staves of swordsmen, weapons with the ability to translate the vigor of a wielder¡¯s heart into physical form. When imbued with vigor, Darko¡¯s sword glimmered like a hot oven.


    If the protesters weren¡¯t wary of Darko before, the sight of an active glyphsword was enough to grant him authority over any simple protest. Nobody dared get close.


    With one effortless swipe, he cut an opening in the metal fence. He grabbed the two falling pillars before they could thump against the ground. He lifted the pillars out of the way and slid into the estate. The girls followed him hesitantly, doubtful of the ideas Darko had proposed.


    ¡°That¡¯s Wyvern Slayer Darko!¡± a protestor called. ¡°He¡¯s come to punish the Count for his crimes!¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°About time,¡± another man shouted.


    ¡°Everyone, storm the place! Help the Slayer!¡±


    ¡°Quiet!¡± Darko called into the crowd of eager protesters. Before anyone could follow, Darko placed the two severed pillars back into place and glanced at Shena.


    Through wordless understanding, Shena pointed her staff at the cuts. The staff glowed a dim yellow. Her casting required no contact nor words to seal the fence back together with a layer of awfully sticky black substance.


    Earth magic mixed with Shena¡¯s untraditional touches. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but the fence would hold as thoroughly as new.


    ¡°This is a stealth mission, you idiots,¡± Darko said through the fence. ¡°Not one of you comes after me, and not one of you shouts my name. Who cut through this fence tonight?¡±


    The man about to instigate the riot faced him through the fence. ¡°The Wyvern Slayer?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Darko said. ¡°Nobody crossed the fence tonight. You, good citizens, stay quiet while I do my business. Let me ask again. Who cut this fence tonight?¡±


    The man stood stiff. ¡°I saw nobody, sir. Absolutely nothing. Fence was fucked like that before I arrived.¡±


    ¡°Very good,¡± Darko said with a nod. Then, he turned and headed deeper into the Count¡¯s unevenly burned garden.


    ¡°That promise won¡¯t last the hour,¡± Remy said when they were out of earshot. Her staff glowed as well, though for a far more mundane spell. The urn of the undead floated by her side with levitation.


    ¡°Of course it won¡¯t,¡± Darko said. ¡°Just had to quell the riot and buy us some time. This infiltration will be public by tomorrow.¡±


    The Count¡¯s garden showed signs of well-designed symmetry before burning to ash. Torches had been tossed past the fence onto whatever expenses the protesters dared to damage. Bushes smoldered here and there, ash spreading to the paved paths. The worst damage was on the Count¡¯s formerly extravagant patio, which had turned into a bonfire on the second day of the riot.


    The torches hadn¡¯t as much as touched the mansion itself. Partly because its walls were a good distance away from the fence, but mostly because Vol¨¦s was afraid of committing substantial damage. The patio burner was likely hiding by now, desperately hoping his deeds escaped investigation. The excuse of a protest only covered crimes so far.


    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely certain, then?¡± Remy asked. ¡°Count Felrish Mayrell is directly related to the royals. We¡¯re in trouble if we claim that he¡¯s working with Azetoth.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m wrong, we¡¯ll be illegally trespassing on a noble¡¯s keep,¡± Darko said, stepping deeper on the remaining unburnt paths. ¡°If I¡¯m right, we¡¯ll have saved the town. With such results, we¡¯d be bound to have the mission.¡±


    Remy stayed by his side, visibly uncertain. ¡°We¡¯re attacking a noble on your hunch?¡±


    ¡°The cult can¡¯t be anywhere else,¡± Darko said. ¡°The Count has been acting suspiciously for weeks now, and all his excuses have been proven lies. Felrish, despite the insults he receives, does not have a history of tyranny. Something is up.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Remy said. ¡°But shouldn¡¯t we consult for a permit first? At least have the Guild backing us up in case we¡¯re wrong?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s not us attacking,¡± Darko said, ¡°the crowd will eventually make their way in. Better for us to complete the job before innocents sacrifice themselves.¡±


    ¡°And the plan?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°I say we blast right through the front doors.¡±


    ¡°Improvisation.¡± Shena sighed. ¡°Fantastic.¡±


    Without further arguments from his companions, Darko executed the plan to perfection. He imbued his muscles with vigor, then kicked the mansion¡¯s double doors in the middle. The impact destroyed the lock along with the lower hinge of the left side door. Protesters cheered from behind the front gates.


    What greeted them inside was not a panic of servants, and definitely not a refined butler ready to escort them to their appointment. Darko was prepared for a spell about to fly his way, but nothing blasted his head off just yet.


    The dark foyer appeared thoroughly vacant. Even the chairs and chandeliers had moved houses.


    ¡°Well,¡± Darko said. He kept the coat of protective vigor wrapped around his skin. Power-hungry as the coating was, something told him he¡¯d require it. ¡°Looks like the Count relocated the party. And without telling us!¡±


    He stepped inside hesitantly, Shena and Remy following suit. From the looks on their faces, Darko knew they shared the angst.


    ¡°Darko.¡± Shena breathed in, her voice unusually deep. ¡°Those scratches on the walls¡­¡±


    Gorthorn claws, Darko thought. The pattern was as unmistakable as a paw print in snow. ¡°Looks like the nobles have been having some fun.¡±


    Shena scowled. ¡°I¡¯ll burn this place down to cinders with you inside if you don¡¯t get serious right now. They could be here. My people.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Darko said.


    They stepped further into the foyer with the pace of nervous cats. Something was off, even beyond the wrong that the eyes could see. Every hallway appeared similarly vacant. All that was left behind were shattered lamps and ripped cushions, likely deemed not worth stealing. Claw marks littered the place from carpets to floors.


    ¡°Stay on guard,¡± Darko said. ¡°Something¡¯s still inside. I can feel¡ª¡±


    The sentence was forgotten in an instant as Darko bolted to his left. The tip of his gleaming glyphsword thrust at the throat of whatever had just attempted to sneak a spell at Shena¡¯s throat.


    Unfortunately, Darko¡¯s attack didn¡¯t connect. Fortunately, Shena was saved, though startled.


    The grinning thing and its puppet hopped backward, eventually landing on the railing of the stairs. It stood on three limbs, the fourth holding a screwed-up puppet.


    Darko glanced at Shena. Her breath was heavy from the shock, but she was mostly composed. Good. She wouldn¡¯t make a mistake again. Both girls readied their staves.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Darko asked, facing his enemy.


    The thing laughed. Its puppet, Darko realized, was not a puppet at all, but the corpse of a young girl. The body was in good shape and could have been mistaken for alive if not for the needle piercing her heart. Some screwed-up contraption was connected to the needle. A contraption that the monster holding the girl seemed fond of.


    On closer look, the monster itself was not a monster either. Technically speaking, Darko¡¯s opponent was a human. A hunched-up gremlin of a mage, wearing a ripped robe. Greasy black hair ran across the woman¡¯s face.


    Averia, Tenth Archpriest, Darko thought, recognizing her. A high-ranking cult official, and clearly a victim of a screwed-up experiment. This abomination of a mage was ranked the tenth worst monster within the cult hierarchy.


    ¡°She¡¯s fast,¡± Darko said.


    ¡°And rogue.¡± Remy pointed her staff at the monster. ¡°We should go. This is a fight to the death.¡±


    ¡°And lure that thing to the city? No.¡±


    ¡°Welcome!¡± Averia screeched and laughed at the same time. ¡°To my sanctua¡ª¡±


    An icicle set home in Averia¡¯s forehead. A sneaky attack from Shena¡¯s left palm. Averia¡¯s eyes lost their light, and blood flowed from the crack in her skull. Darko lowered his sword, certain that the woman was dead.


    Then Averia¡¯s chords filled with mana.


    Power surged from the young girl¡¯s body into Averia¡¯s chords. Averia¡¯s eyes remained dark, yet she didn¡¯t collapse. By some mystery of black magic, Averia stood. Uncontrolled rogue magic poured from her wounds, filling the air with pressure. The curtains trembled.


    Then, by some mindless instinct, Averia picked up her staff.


    ¡°Great,¡± Darko said, feeling his nerves. Whatever Averia had turned into, he knew he couldn¡¯t allow her to regain fighting shape. Rogue mages didn¡¯t follow the rules of mortal men. He lunged forward, sword first, and swiped at Averia¡¯s head.


    His blow was blocked by a transparent black blade. Averia cast a spell to turn her staff into a blade that matched Darko¡¯s own.


    Damned mages! Darko thought and swiped for another attack. It was blocked; Averia was damn good, even with only one arm. The rogue magic in the air made it hard to concentrate!


    No pleas were needed for Shena¡¯s spell of muscle enhancement to find Darko¡¯s body. With her assistance, his swipes held the upper hand. The advantage lasted for roughly one second, up to the moment when more magical nonsense sprouted out of Averia¡¯s staff.


    The black sword multiplied to three. The two clones were wielded by floating arms. Three overhead swipes approached Darko from every side of his vision.


    He managed to block two left side swings with his sword. He had no time for the third, trusting it for his mages to deal with. And thank the Moons they succeeded. A shockwave blasted the last sword out of trajectory.


    The shockwave also blasted Darko in the back, sending him straight to the face of the monster.


    With little time for calculations, he planted his sword into Averia¡¯s abdomen. He jumped back just as a counterattack slashed the air where his neck stood moments ago.


    Surely, it¡¯s dead, Darko thought between ragged breaths. Two lethal blows. Darko had killed his hallmark wyvern with less.


    They watched with dread as Averia stood on two legs, sword and icicle still piercing her vitals.


    Icicle - As the name implies, the spell forms and shoots out an icicle. It¡¯s a simple trick and effective on mana, costing essentially nothing to cast. Don¡¯t let this fool you, however. A proficient icicle is as sharp as a bullet, and as swift as a black cat in a dark alley.


    I find it entertaining how Krose mana scientists required centuries to invent such a simple spell.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400; text-align: justify">Goddess Shiela¡¯s description of the spell ¡°icicle¡±</li>


    </ul>

 7: A Real Mage

    ¡°We need to see the catacombs,¡± Ry said to the ¡®Priest Keeper¡¯ stationed by the closed entrance of Goddess Akona¡¯s church. The priest was an older woman whose age I was afraid to guess. She, like nearly everyone in this world, looked way more attractive than humans had any right to. She wore a dark blue apron over a white dress with a cowl covering her head.


    The chapel behind her was by far the sturdiest and most menacing building on the humble side of the city. It stood by the rim of the market square, directly opposite the Count¡¯s estate. The tip of its triangular roof matched the count¡¯s mansion in height, and the clocktower spire integrated into the chapel reached nearly as high as the hill of Huss¡¯ guild.


    No part of it was amazing by modern standards, but I doubted the roof would collapse any time soon. The appearance wasn¡¯t awful either. Wooden planks, painted blue, striped its stone foundation vertically as decoration.


    ¡°Your business?¡± the Priest Keeper asked. I had no idea where the title came from, but Ry¡¯s mention of it had sounded wary.


    ¡°We come on the Guild¡¯s orders,¡± Ry said. ¡°The Guild has received reports of a rat problem in the vicinity. We doubt the catacombs have anything to do with it, but we have to check just to rule out the possibility. Wouldn¡¯t want rats breeding in the catacombs now, would we?¡±


    The priest eyed us with a doubtful look. Especially me, for all the good I was worth. Which was not a lot, considering I was instructed to keep my mouth shut during Ry¡¯s negotiations.


    ¡°Your papers?¡± she asked. ¡°Without the agreement of the bishops, you are not to enter the catacombs.¡±


    Ry sighed. ¡°Look, we both know the catacomb is an abandoned old crawlway. I¡¯m sure the church, the Guild, and us four would prefer to avoid papers and just get this over with. We¡¯ll perform a quick check to see if there are rats or not, and we¡¯ll get out before you know it.¡± He pulled out a few copper coins from his pockets and held them out for the priest. ¡°Here¡¯s a part of our pay if that can expedite the process.¡±


    The priest chuffed through her nose, a subtle smile on her face. ¡°Three copper marks? What an amusing attempt at blatant corruption.¡±


    Ry put the coins back in the pockets. ¡°I¡¯d rather not spend a week waiting for paperwork to pass through. We simply wish to see the catacombs and grab our payment, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°You three should consider real missions with real pay, as opposed to sniffing rats for copper,¡± the priest said. ¡°The church is closed tonight. Get lost.¡±


    Ry stared with a deadpan look for a moment before turning around and walking off. Em and I followed.


    Ry¡¯s eyes were awfully sharp. When out of earshot, he said, ¡°That shit sniffer! There is no way that woman is trained. Real priests wouldn¡¯t talk that way.¡±


    ¡°Ry, I think that woman was a mage,¡± Em said.


    ¡°And how¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°The way she held herself. It resembled a mage.¡±


    ¡°That makes no sense. If I stand with enough confidence, you¡¯ll believe I¡¯m a mage?¡±


    ¡°No! Ry, you can be so annoying sometimes. It¡¯s just a hunch I have.¡±


    Sighing and shaking his head, Ry turned right to circle the chapel¡¯s perimeter. His step was pissed, and his anger was spreading to Em in the form of annoyance. I just hoped they weren¡¯t angry at me.


    ¡°Thanks for the help,¡± I said. ¡°It was a good attempt.¡±


    ¡°Not good enough,¡± Ry said. ¡°We¡¯ll have to do better.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? What¡¯s next?¡±


    ¡°We either give up, or we break the law. I know a spot to sneak in.¡±


    I paused. ¡°I can¡¯t ask you to get in trouble for my stupid request.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± Ry said. ¡°I¡¯m meeting Jordan whether you come with me or not. I used to sneak into the catacombs all the time as a kid. It¡¯s been a while, but I never once got in trouble. The Priest Keeper simply likes to abuse her power.¡±


    Within the span of the next few minutes, my nervous ass followed the wordless plan, starting with a walk to the backside of the church. There, Ry hopped the fence as nonchalantly as he had strolled. My malnourished body protested as I offered my best effort to climb, making it over with only minor embarrassment. Em, with her satchel and robe, was swifter than I.


    We trotted through the vacant garden¡¯s moonlit display of silvery flowers, towards a white brick canopy. The canopy was hexagon-shaped. Six columns at each corner held the roof in place. The inside was decorated with flowerpots and well-cleaned stone pavement.


    ¡°Now, then,¡± Ry said, entering the canopy. He tapped one of the columns with his fist. ¡°Let¡¯s see if the secret is still unbroken.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Using a nearby flower rack as a foothold, he reached for one of the ceiling tiles. He nudged at the tile. And as sturdy as the construction looked, the tile lifted out of place.


    Ry grinned. ¡°Hop on in. It¡¯s going to get dark. Follow my voice.¡±


    He ascended into the hollow ceiling first, signaling for me to follow. I did, doubts growing with each second. One day in the new world, and I was already crawling inside God damned canopies in search of a mage to cleanse me from madness. Thanks a lot, Shiela.


    Ry pulled Em after me, into the dark crawlspace between the ceiling and the roof. Somehow my crippling fear of group projects and get-together activities seemed increasingly childish.


    ¡°Ladder and a fall here,¡± Ry called from the corner. ¡°Watch yourselves. Em, you¡¯ve got illumination scrolls, right?¡±


    I caught Em¡¯s frown with the little light from below as she shuffled through her bag, eventually finding a scroll. ¡°Only one that isn¡¯t fire. I¡¯ll need your sword to light it.¡±


    ¡°Right. Follow me down, and we¡¯ll figure it out.¡± I heard Ry¡¯s boots tap on metal as he descended the pitch-black ladder.


    I crawled towards the sound and found the ladder by touch. Clever, I thought, trying to distract my nerves. This particular column of the canopy was hollow, hiding a ladder inside. I descended, then tested my footing at the bottom, feeling solid stone.


    ¡°Not one glance upwards, creeps,¡± Em said, descending after me.


    ¡°Em, it¡¯s pitch black,¡± Ry said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t see you if you were naked. Burn the damn scroll. And don¡¯t cut yourself on the blade.¡±


    I heard the wrinkling of parchment, followed by a raspy whoosh. The blade of Ry¡¯s sword lit up like a light bulb, and the scroll broke into particles. The blade itself became blindingly bright, yet the globe of light it illuminated was barely the width of a large umbrella.


    Magic exists, all right, I thought at the sight. Sure, modern technology could have created a similar result through trickery. Yet, the explanation of magic made a whole lot more sense.


    The ground below me was difficult to make out even with magical illumination. I could hardly stand without feeling crumbs of ceiling dirt scrape at my hair, so I hunched just in case of surprises. The underground air tasted twice recycled.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it awfully clean today?¡± Em asked.


    This is clean? I thought.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ry said. ¡°Someone has been here. Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s Cill¡¯s teacher.¡±


    ¡°Should we call?¡± Em asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± Ry said. Then yelled, ¡°Jordan Feryah! We¡¯ve brought him! We mean no harm! Please show yourself!¡±


    We stood in place, listening to the echo of Ry¡¯s call and then some. The catacombs offered no response. Not even a rat¡¯s squeak.


    ¡°So, Cill,¡± Ry said. ¡°You¡¯re sure Darko mentioned this place?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± I said. ¡°Apparently, Jord¡¯s got a clever setup in here.¡±


    Ry grinned. ¡°I think I know what Darko meant. There¡¯s a spot I used to play in all the time as a kid.¡±


    ¡°What can you possibly play with in a catacomb?¡± Em asked.


    ¡°With the bones and skulls of the dead, of course,¡± Ry said. Then added, ¡°That was a joke. No dead were buried here. You¡¯ll see what it is.¡±


    My mouth drying along with my brain, I followed Ry¡¯s wordless footsteps for what felt like ten minutes. It became clear that the maze called ¡°catacombs¡± was missing a capital ¡°S¡± in its name. Or perhaps it was just my nerves translating seconds into minutes.


    ¡°If I recall,¡± Ry said, turning a corner no different from the rest. ¡°It should be right around here.¡±


    We paused at the entrance. What welcomed us to the chamber was not a child¡¯s playhouse, but the smell of rusting iron and old blood. A row of prison bars created a single large cell, the contents of which our illumination didn¡¯t reach.


    ¡°Moons,¡± Ry gushed. He stepped deeper, pointing his sword towards the cell. ¡°They¡¯ve turned this into a prison!¡±


    Em and I followed, both sharing the angst. The place was devoid of furniture but for rope twirling around a clothes hanger. The dimmest lamp I had ever seen lit the entrance. Floor dust hinted at vacancy, but then again, I doubted the owners of this kind of prison enjoyed cleanup duty.


    The cell itself was a bed and a toilet short of solitary confinement. The cell appeared empty. But as Ry moved his sword closer, lighting more of the area, a shape appeared in the rightmost corner.


    The shape had eyes. Shiny orange eyes.


    Ry paused, staring back. His mouth hung open for a moment, as if he couldn¡¯t decide whether to run or scream.


    Before we could do either, sounds from behind froze us on the spot. A tapping sound, only getting louder. Footsteps.


    ¡°Em¡­¡± Ry said. He lifted his sword. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was for illumination or for fighting posture.


    A cowled figure blocked our exit. My spinning vision recognized her as the Priest Keeper. Her eyes glowed a bright purple, imbued by some sort of magic.


    ¡°Uh,¡± Ry said. ¡°Lots of rats around here, huh?¡±


    ¡°What business do you three believe to have with Jordan Feryah?¡± the Priest Keeper asked.


    The three of us stood frozen.


    ¡°No matter,¡± the Priest Keeper said. ¡°It¡¯s clear to me you are not in good company, nor is the teacher here. Let me ask one question. Is anyone aware of your visit to the catacombs?¡±


    ¡°Darko sent us!¡± Ry called. ¡°Kill us now, and you¡¯ll get a fucking armada at your doorstep.¡±


    The Priest Keeper chuffed through her nose. She pulled out a staff tucked away inside her outfit. The staff had an impressively polished orb at its tip. And as if that wasn¡¯t threat enough, two masked figures in white uniforms appeared on both sides of her, barricading any chances of escape.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Ry said. ¡°A real mage.¡±


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level one]


    [Recent awakener]


    [Abilities: Fireball, Carillia¡¯s assistance]

 8: Goddamn Politics

    The monster left a trail of blood in its wake as it stepped towards Darko.


    ¡°Shena¡­¡± Darko said. ¡°Cast whatever you can on me. I¡¯ll bring this thing North. It can¡¯t chase long with those wounds. And give me my dagger.¡±


    Shena was about to finish with the last of her tasks when Averia¡¯s black blade turned back to a staff. An unhealthy amount of mana flowed from the young girl¡¯s body, straight into Averia¡¯s staff, and into whatever abomination of a spell she was about to cast. The energy within the staff grew to dangerous amounts. Averia wasn¡¯t controlling her magic properly.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Darko called, sensing the imminent explosion. Any more mana buildup, and only a man-made crater would stand where the mansion used to.


    Just as Darko¡¯s brain was introducing friendships with the concept of death, the mana buildup stopped. The young girl¡¯s heart stopped producing mana. The corpse had gone dry.


    Moments after, Averia collapsed with a thump.


    The sound snapped Remy out of her trance. She pointed her staff at the imminent disaster¡ªAveria¡¯s mana-filled staff. With practiced control, Remy redirected mana from the rogue staff into her own. Slowly, she dissipated excess energy into the air. An easy job now that the opponent¡¯s staff lay without a wielder.


    ¡°Heh,¡± Darko said. ¡°Heroes once again.¡±


    ¡°Never do that again,¡± Shena said, avoiding his eyes. She cast ¡°levitation¡± on Darko¡¯s sword, pulled it out of Averia¡¯s body, and shook it free of blood. She floated it, hilt first, in front of Darko.


    With a smile, Darko grabbed his sword. ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°Rely on us,¡± Shena said. ¡°You would have sacrificed yourself to the three swords, had I not miraculously saved your head from being cut.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called teamwork,¡± Darko said. ¡°A skill which you are growing quite proficient with.¡±


    ¡°My arsenal has offensive spells, too,¡± Shena said. ¡°I hate to see my genius talents being wasted in casting ¡®muscle enhancement¡¯ for the umpteenth time. If you ever die under my spells, I¡¯ll be hanged for assisting suicide.¡±


    Darko grinned further. ¡°I surprise myself with my failures. You¡¯d think after the umpteenth attempt, I¡¯d have succeeded in getting myself killed.¡±


    Shena, after a disapproving look, sighed. They were lucky to be alive, and they all knew it.


    Darko¡¯s grin didn¡¯t last either. Hesitantly, he approached Averia¡¯s body. Lines grew on his face at the sight. Not by the sight of Averia; fallen cultists, though disgusting, were something he saw weekly.


    The young girl¡¯s bloodied eyes were what truly shook his stomach. Blood pooled from the needle piercing her heart. Whatever had kept the girl functional, the effect was gone. Decay appeared on her face all at once, as if she¡¯d been rotting for days.


    ¡°Remy? What exactly did we just experience?¡± Darko asked, frowning at the heart-needle contraption. If anyone would know what happened, it would be Remy. Their magic nerd.


    Remy puked into a flowerpot.


    ¡°We nearly died,¡± Shena said, stepping beside Darko. ¡°That is what we experienced.¡±


    Darko couldn¡¯t disagree. The tenth Archpriest nearly blew up half the city by herself. Averia alone gave them this much trouble.


    What, then, of the remaining nine? What of the hundreds of Black Plates with armor strong enough to block a glyphsword? What of the cult¡¯s dozens of battle mages? What of the Azetoth himself, a former Defender of the Dragon Wall?


    And the royal military still somehow pretended Azetoth was any old heretic, unworthy of attention.


    ¡°Averia stole the girl¡¯s mana,¡± Shena said. ¡°Then controlled it as her own.¡±


    ¡°How is that possible?¡± Darko asked.


    Shena stared at the heart contraption with a still expression. Whatever it was, they were both too afraid to touch it. The cult had invented something truly screwed.


    ¡°We need to find someone alive,¡± Shena said. ¡°For information. The Gorthorns were here. Maybe they are still in the city.¡±


    Darko nodded. The cult had clearly moved operations, and the mansion most likely wouldn¡¯t house anyone else. Still, they had to pillage the place. Everything left clues.


    Before Darko could step forward, however, hasty footsteps stormed from behind.


    ¡°Freeze!¡± a commanding female voice called.


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    Ah, shit, Darko thought, recognizing the voice. With slow moments, he sheathed his sword. His next words required consideration. Heroic deeds were rarely rewarded without political problems.


    He turned around. ¡°Daphine Belyris? Relax. The problem is disposed of.¡±


    The gold-haired woman scowled, her glyphsword lifted. Her white battle uniform was embedded with gold and jewels, only half of which were purely for show. The coat alone must have quadrupled the lifetime pay of Darko¡¯s every companion combined, and the same went for her silver glyphsword. Her two escorts were dressed in white royal battle robes, both holding staves.


    ¡°Wyvern Slayer Darko?¡± Daphine asked. ¡°Explain yourself.¡±


    Darko knelt on one knee like a proper knight. He had no formal training aside from Remy¡¯s feedback, but he was confident in his showcase. Shena and Remy performed their versions, lowering their heads behind Darko.


    Their show of respect was only natural. Daphine Belyris was a lieutenant of the royal military, and Kroses Sol¡¯s only female vigor wielder currently alive.


    ¡°Me and my group grew tired of watching the city get abused,¡± Darko said. ¡°I decided we''d pay the Count a visit.¡±


    ¡°Unauthorized entry on the justification of a Heroic deed.¡± Daphine sheathed her sword and stepped deeper. Her escorts kept their staves up. ¡°You adventurers think you¡¯re so clever. Raise your heads.¡±


    Darko not only raised his head but stood up as well. A move he was not asked to pull, but some arrogance went a long way in building character. ¡°The cult¡¯s infestation has moved somewhere else. We did, however, take care of their¡­ Archpriest. Whatever you can call that thing.¡±


    Daphine¡¯s scowl moved to the body of the rogue mage and the corpse of the young girl. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°I recommend you take a look at the contraption in her heart,¡± Darko said. Genuine discomfort mixed with his voice. ¡°The cult has created something rather interesting.¡±


    ¡°I sensed something wrong from the outside,¡± Daphine said. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle you two are alive.¡±


    ¡°The mage was as rogue as maniacs go,¡± Darko said. ¡°There was barely a thought in its movements.¡±


    Daphine nodded. ¡°Renegades or not, I commend your skills. I must also remind you that your actions tonight have broken several laws, and I have the right to arrest you.¡±


    ¡°You also have the right to not arrest us,¡± Darko said.


    ¡°I do indeed,¡± Daphine said. She turned to the girls. ¡°You might be?¡±


    ¡°Remyer Ravilles, Lieutenant,¡± Remy said with a bow. ¡°Independent mage, working with Darko.¡±


    ¡°Shena, Miss,¡± Shena said, sharing the bow. ¡°Under Darko¡¯s leadership.¡±


    ¡°This renegade has tied you to a mage contract?¡± Daphine asked.


    ¡°We are adventurers,¡± Shena said. ¡°I am what your kind would call an escapee. I will not comply with ownership. Not Darko¡¯s, and not yours.¡±


    ¡°An escapee,¡± Daphine said. ¡°Another reason to arrest you.¡±


    ¡°Please, you must see that we are not killers,¡± Darko said. ¡°Criminals, sure. But we work for the good of our country. We share the same damn goals with the royals. We just completed your mission. Our work is commendable enough that the King himself sees us as candidates for officially fighting this mess.¡±


    ¡°Worry not,¡± Daphine said. ¡°I am not as power-hungry as my peers. I don¡¯t benefit from arrests, and I don¡¯t see justice in making your life hell, not while any reinforcements I may have hoped to expect are stationed at the border, preparing for war.¡± She faced Darko. ¡°I do, however, order you to leave. The investigation will be led by royalty. You can expect no payment for the unrequested job you have performed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Darko said with a bow. I would have liked Averia¡¯s staff, though¡­


    Daphine nodded, then turned to one of her escorts. ¡°Bring the investigators. I will clear the remaining traps of the vicinity. No cupboard will be left unchecked. I expect to uncover the cult¡¯s goals by morning.¡±


    The escort saluted and left. Daphine was already on her way to examine the corpse.


    ¡°Daphine,¡± Darko said. ¡°Forgive my discourtesy, but for the benefit of our mutual goal, is there any location you wish for us to hit? Without facing repercussions.¡±


    ¡°An attack on a cultist base is far too dangerous of an operation for me to offer,¡± Daphine said. ¡°I have but one request. My team has received intel on the identities of cult officials. Members that are vital to the cult¡¯s operations. If you could locate any of them and pass word to us, the royals would be much obliged.¡±


    ¡°And the names?¡±


    ¡°Intel on any officials and hostages will be rewarded,¡± Daphine said. ¡°However, I trust you enough to let you in on known identities. Tavira, Second Archpriest. Rigrith, Fifth Archpriest. Of course, Founder Azetoth himself, whatever his real identity may be. Betrayer, Jordan Feryah.¡±


    Darko paused. Remy, having kept a blank expression until now, twitched.


    ¡°May you repeat the last part?¡± Darko asked, his voice uncertain.


    ¡°Jordan Feryah,¡± Daphine said. ¡°Known heretic and kidnapper. Exiled, yet on the loose. Now a known member of the cult. Jordan Feryah is considered highly dangerous and has been associated with Azetoth himself.¡±


    Darko¡¯s face must have been pale, as Daphine asked, ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°My apologies,¡± Darko said. ¡°I just remembered I left my pet alligator carp without pellets tonight. He¡¯s going to get grumpy if I don¡¯t get back right about now.¡±


    Daphine puffed through her nose. ¡°You walk on thin ice, adventurers. Very well. I wish you luck. Next we meet, let our relationship be under official teamwork.¡±


    Darko gave her a nod before rushing out of the estate, the girls following swiftly.


    ¡°Darko¡­¡± Shena said. ¡°What is it you¡¯ve said about Jordan Feryah?¡±


    ¡°Keep the arguments,¡± Darko said, grimacing. ¡°The boy is in trouble. We¡¯ll go after him, now. And I¡¯ll have a quick word with Jord if that damned teacher is still in town.¡±


    For once, Darko wished the boy had gotten lost. He dashed through the cheering crowd and towards the church. The Moons bless us; Cill better not have found the catacombs!

 9: Good Kids Fall Off

    Shiela lied to me.


    I had suspected this from the moment I woke up. Yet, some distant part of my brain had remained hopeful. Trustful in the Goddess¡¯s judgment, ignoring each red flag like I was some devoted worshiper. Now, faced with the masked men and a death mage, the last of my hopes were drowned.


    Shiela, that lying excuse of a Goddess, had sent me to my death.


    Adrenaline didn¡¯t improve my presence in the staredown. I stood behind my two companions like a rat caught in a trap, as useless as ever.


    Ry¡¯s sword was all that defended us from a swift death. He appeared mostly composed under our assailants¡¯ eyes. Yet, his shiny sword lacked threats in comparison to the purple eyes of the Priest Keeper and her staff.


    ¡°We can do this the easy way,¡± the Priest Keeper said. ¡°Or I can kill you along with your lies. I hope you know what to choose.¡±


    Ry¡¯s limbs shook ever so slightly. His posture wavered. ¡°We¡¯ll comply with your requests.¡± He dropped his sword on the ground, then held his hands up. ¡°Honest, we didn¡¯t know this place was renovated. Trouble is the last thing I want.¡±


    ¡°A sensible decision,¡± the Priest Keeper said. ¡°If only you had come to this conclusion fifteen minutes ago.¡± She turned to Em, whose left hand was half-hidden behind her back. ¡°Put down the scrolls, girl. You cannot fight me.¡±


    Biting her lip, Em complied. She placed the scroll back into her satchel with careful movements, then laid the satchel on the ground. She held her arms up.


    Eyes turned to me. I carried no weapons, yet the stare I received was the most doubtful. I was seen as a real threat. This alone terrified me more than anything else. I did not belong here. I was a good kid. Why did a fantastical death mage look at me like I was some sort of killer?


    The pressure inside my body kept me ostensibly composed as I emptied my pockets. I left my wallet, phone, earbuds, and sling bag on the floor next to Em¡¯s satchel. I¡¯d cry about my belongings later if I lived through the night, but right now the gaze of masked maniacs was enough to detach me from any attachment to homely memoirs.


    ¡°Tie them up.¡± The Priest Keeper pointed her staff at our heads. ¡°Try anything funny, and you can be assured your quest for sniffing rats comes to an end.¡±


    The two masked men took orders, grabbing rope from the rack. My instincts told me to run as the men approached. But even in my panicked state, I could deduce struggling was the worst of my options. I let the men manhandle my limbs as they wished. My hands were tied together hard and at an angle I knew would cause a sore wrist.


    Ry and Em followed the same fate, after which the masked men slid a key into the cell door.


    ¡°No!¡± Ry called. ¡°You can¡¯t do this!¡± He glanced at the orange eyes. ¡°That thing will eat us alive!¡±


    ¡°Never met a Gorthorn, my dear?¡± the Priest Keeper asked. ¡°They¡¯re friendlier than you might think. And certainly more courteous than you rat sniffers. Toss them in.¡±


    Ry¡¯s struggles and curses were useless as the two masked men held him by the armpits. His eyes wide in terror, he was tossed into the cell along with the orange-eyed thing.


    Em struggled less, but her fear remained. I watched in dread, knowing I would follow next. To say I was scared shitless was an understatement. I wished to kiss the floor there and then¡ªto beg Shiela¡¯s more competent sisters for safety and forgiveness. I didn¡¯t mean to jump off the balcony. Oh, God, if I knew this was the punishment for my bad decisions, I would have started a charity and devoted myself to volunteering for the sake of my soul. I didn¡¯t¡ª


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    My body thumped against the stone floor, stomach and face taking the impact. Dirt in my mouth, I stumbled onto my feet, failing the first few times due to my tied hands, then joined Ry and Em in their corner opposite the orange eyes.


    The Priest Keeper laughed. ¡°Skittish children. Fighting is not allowed. That goes for all four of you. We¡¯ll be back shortly.¡±


    The cell door locked shut with a clasp. The masked men gave us one last stare, then walked off, leaving us with nothing but our clothes and the sound of our breath.


    We hugged the left side wall, keeping our terrified stares on the orange-eyed figure sitting in the opposite corner. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. I could make out the shape in detail. It was undoubtedly a human, though not of a race I had ever seen.


    It sighed. ¡°No-breeds¡­¡±


    Ry and Em twitched, afraid as ever. I, however, paused. The woman¡¯s tone didn¡¯t sound threatening in the slightest. Barely even annoyed.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I said.


    The figure lifted its head, eyes wide staring at me. Em and Ry shared the shock, stepping away from me.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± I said.


    ¡°You speak Gorthorn?¡± the thing asked.


    She asked. I was talking to a human. Though, I was too shocked to respond.


    She snorted. ¡°You learned the language yet fear me still. No-breeds never cease to surprise.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked. ¡°What language?¡±


    ¡°Gorthorn, the linguistics of our current conversation.¡± The orange eyes studied me. ¡°You¡¯re under translation magic, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    My lips hung open. Em and Ry watched me as if I was a ghost, but I barely noticed. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    I saw the faint outline of a smile on her face. ¡°Translation magic is famously awful with the Gorthorn speech. You talk without the touch. Without the poetic beats of sentences.¡± She paused. ¡°That, and I doubt a man of your intelligence could ever learn a language of intricacy. Do forgive me.¡±


    ¡°Cillian?¡± Em asked, her voice shaking. ¡°What are you two¡­?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­¡± I said, unsure whether I was talking to Em or the woman. The translation magic had a mind of its own.


    ¡°You must be a mage,¡± the woman said. ¡°I sense power from you. Far more than from the last chorded no-breed of my acquaintances. You must be skilled. Translation is an arduous spell to learn.¡±


    ¡°I am an awakener,¡± I said, tone uncertain. ¡°I don¡¯t know translation magic. It was cast on me by someone else.¡±


    ¡°A man of importance, then?¡± she asked. ¡°Odd place you¡¯ve arrived in. What brings a man of chords down to the poachers¡¯ cells?¡±


    I licked my dry lips. Was there a reason to lie? ¡°We are looking for a teacher,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s, uh, we might be in the wrong place.¡±


    The woman let out a little laugh. ¡°If the Corruption is the worry, I may offer my assistance. Would not be my first time working with no-breeds.¡±


    ¡°Cillian?¡± Em asked again, voice shaking. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°My apology.¡± The woman stood up. Her accent changed, enunciation slightly less fluid. Something within my head instinctively knew she spoke in a different language, though both came out as English to me. ¡°You have a curious friend. I speak Krose as well. Would not want to travel without words, would I?¡±


    Em¡¯s and Ry¡¯s eyes opened wide. ¡°You,¡± Ry gushed. ¡°What are you?¡±


    ¡°My name is Rakash.¡± She stepped forward, closer to the light.


    Features revealed themselves. Her brownish skin was reflective like a fish¡¯s scale, yet as smooth as Shiela¡¯s. Dotted freckles, the same color as her eyes, were spread evenly across her face and limbs alike.


    Her nails were thick and sturdy. They grew to point like claws. The sharp tips were cut, but I doubted she would have much trouble clawing into a throat regardless. This woman was animalistically strong.


    Yet she was undoubtedly human. Her confident smile and cute black hair made my heart thump. Something about her appearance made me immensely curious to see what was underneath her robe.


    ¡°I am,¡± Rakash said, ¡°as your assailant informed, a Gorthorn.¡±

 10: The Gorthorn

    Ry¡¯s and Em¡¯s apprehension turned to sheer bafflement. ¡°No way?¡± Ry said. ¡°But Gorths¡­ Gorthorns are¡­¡±


    ¡°Vicious beasts of war?¡± Rakash asked. ¡°Blood-hungry killers? Weak-willed swamp dwellers? Please. Do all no-breeds believe every rumor sent their way? Will you believe me if I tell you our children munch crab shells for breakfast?¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Ry said. ¡°We¡¯re at war?¡±


    ¡°Countries clash,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Leaders squabble.¡±


    ¡°Your people hate us!¡± Ry said. ¡°You¡¯re attacking our country!¡±


    Rakash sighed. ¡°I have held this same conversation with no-breeds four times by now. Experience has shown me that convincing you of my people¡¯s nature is impossible, and not worth the effort.¡±


    Ry struggled to find his words. He looked much like a baffled child.


    War-free utopia, huh? I thought. My day only got more absurd. Yet somehow the argument before me sounded homely. I observed from the side, sensing no opportunity to join in. That suited my clueless ass just fine.


    Em spoke without her usual composed aura. ¡°Are you really a Gorthorn?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I¡¯m a salmon carp cleverly disguised as a priest of Lashan.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Em said. ¡°That¡­ was a lie?¡±


    ¡°Of course I am a Gorthorn,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Is the Krose education so lacking that my description gets mixed with oversized gremlins?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Em said. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ You¡­ Your eyes looked scary in that corner.¡±


    Rakash snorted. ¡°I tend to sulk when left in a dark cell with no bed for several nights straight. My apology.¡±


    Em readjusted her posture, looking as honest as she could with her hands tied. ¡°We apologize for the misunderstanding. You clearly aren¡¯t the monster my mother warned me of.¡±


    ¡°I wish I was,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Life would be a whole lot easier if I could kill on a whim.¡±


    ¡°But Gorthorns are at war with us!¡± Ry said with a frown. ¡°This is a fact. It can¡¯t all be lies.¡±


    ¡°It is true that some members of my kind hold disapproval towards yours,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Some are not as patient with discrimination as I. But believe me, few of us fuel fights through hatred. My tribe certainly doesn¡¯t. We are deserters.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Ry asked.


    ¡°Not every Gorthorn wishes to see themselves killed by Krose steel,¡± Rakash said. ¡°My tribe deserted the military and escaped our country. Thousands have done the same. A move which has turned us all into prime commerce for these poachers of yours.¡±


    Ry¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°What you¡¯re telling me is that everything I¡¯ve heard of your kind are lies? That every one of our war masters¡¯ experiences is false? That your kind has never harmed a soul?¡±


    ¡°We harm plenty of souls,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Gorthorns are human, despite our differences. Humans kill each other. This should not be a revelation.¡±


    Ry opened his mouth, then closed it again.


    ¡°Ra¡­ Rakash?¡± Em asked. ¡°Please forgive our insults. Few Krose have talked with Gorthorns before.¡±


    ¡°Oh, worry not,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I have dealt with far worse. I thank you for the courtesy of not thrusting daggers at my face.¡±


    ¡°If I may ask¡­¡± Em hesitated. ¡°Do all Gorthorns speak the way you do?¡±


    ¡°Like how?¡± Rakash asked.


    ¡°Like, um¡­ wittily?¡±


    ¡°Gorthorns are intelligent enough for speech,¡± Rakash said. ¡°If that is the question you are asking. Few bother to learn Krose, however. Those that have love to use the language for its intended purpose. Which is to confuse natives with insulting rhetoric.¡±


    Em offered an awkward smile. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    Rakash sighed. ¡°Do you really require textbook answers? Gorthorns excel at expressing compassion through language. It is the strength of our language. Insults and bitterness are qualities we pick up after isolation in Krose cells.¡±


    ¡°The Krose are taught that Gorthorns are incompatible with compassion,¡± Em said.


    ¡°That does sound like something no-breeds would learn,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Yet, your friend right there speaks the language just fine. Has he not told you more about us?¡±


    My brain jumped at being involved in the conversation again. Em and Ry glanced at me, suspicion remaining.


    ¡°Not close friends, huh?¡± Rakash asked. ¡°Lucky for us, there¡¯s plenty of time to get to know each other.¡±


    ¡°Rakash?¡± Em asked. ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry for our ignorance. Forgive us. For the time being, um, may we work together for a mutual goal? I doubt you sit here out of choice.¡±


    ¡°A sharp observation,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Yet there is no work to be done. If escape is what you¡¯re after, I am afraid I cannot provide. Not without my staff, and not while the Warden guards these cells.¡±


    ¡°Staff? Warden?¡± Em asked. ¡°Please explain.¡±


    ¡°Staff. Is that not the correct word?¡± Rakash asked. ¡°The magic shaper.¡±


    ¡°I know what a staff is,¡± Em said. ¡°I¡¯m asking¡­ are you a mage?¡±


    ¡°I am a wielder of the power to heal,¡± Rakash said. ¡°My old no-breed companion claimed your kind calls us ¡®support mages.¡¯¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a mage?¡± Em gushed. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Why the surprise?¡± Rakash asked. ¡°The man before you is a wielder too. Far greater than I am.¡±


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    ¡°Sorry,¡± Em said. ¡°I just didn¡¯t know Gorthorns could be mages.¡±


    ¡°You will find me of little use,¡± Rakash said. ¡°My offensive library consists of haphazard attempts sustained only by the strongest of staves. Even at my best, I cannot harm the Warden.¡±


    ¡°And the Warden is?¡± Ry asked.


    Rakash stared back at him. ¡°My dear no breeds. Before I tell you anything else, I recommend abandoning the escape.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡± Ry asked with a frown. ¡°Answer the damn question.¡±


    ¡°The Warden is a behemoth in black armor. The worst of killers I have ever seen. Were you to dispatch a fleet of him on the border, I say the war would be as good as over. The Gorthorns would surrender. You three were captured without as much as a touch of his assistance. He will get involved. Your hopes for escape are slim.¡±


    Ry and Em shared glances. ¡°Black armor?¡± Em asked. ¡°Rakash? Who exactly are our captors? The masked men were not the church¡¯s servants.¡±


    ¡°These poachers call themselves the cultists of Azetoth,¡± Rakash said. ¡°A nasty bunch. The monster stories you tell of Gorthorns are true in the case of Azetoth and his peers.¡±


    Ry and Em froze. ¡°No,¡± Em said. ¡°You must be wrong. The cult can¡¯t be at the church!¡±


    ¡°My tribe has clashed with this group for a year now,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Not one of us was saved from their cells. You would think we¡¯d recognize our captors by now.¡±


    ¡°Are you for real?¡± Ry asked. ¡°The cult of Azetoth?¡±


    ¡°I wish I was not,¡± Rakash said.


    Ry¡¯s scowl turned to me. ¡°Cill. You¡¯ve led us to the cult. The cult¡¯s fucking cells.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I said with dry lips. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°What does the cult want from us?¡± Em asked.


    ¡°If you were Gorthorns,¡± Rakash said, ¡°they would want slaves and people to abuse. But as you are their own kind, I have not the slightest clue.¡±


    ¡°We are simple trespassers,¡± Em said. ¡°Surely they will let us go?¡±


    ¡°So hoped the previous no-breeds,¡± Rakash said. ¡°May Lashan bless their graves.¡±


    Em and Ry stared at each other, both looking concerned.


    ¡°Are we in trouble?¡± I asked, my heart starting to beat again.


    ¡°Are we in fucking trouble?¡± Ry said. ¡°What does it look like? Yes, we are in trouble, thanks to you and your lying letter. I shouldn¡¯t have¡­¡±


    His words trailed off as footsteps approached. A whole bunch of them. Rakash detached herself from our group, moving back to her corner. The sensible conversation had started to calm my nerves, but my brain took no less than a second to fill with pressure again.


    Rakash, as fearful and competent as she appeared, claimed she couldn¡¯t even dream of escaping against these cultists.


    Four figures entered the room. The two masked men, the Priest Keeper, and a cowled old man.


    ¡°My, my,¡± the cowled man said. His robe was similar to the Priest Keeper¡¯s but distinct through the red lace web woven over the sleeves. ¡°Visitors at odd hours. A priest¡¯s favorite.¡±


    We faced them through the bars. If there was a plan, I did not know how to follow it. I put on my best face and attempted to stay composed, though I knew I looked like a toddler on the first day of daycare. I hoped if I didn¡¯t do anything stupid, I wouldn¡¯t be punished.


    ¡°Not royalty this time,¡± the man said, facing Ry. ¡°Not even a raid party sent by the guild, but bottom dweller adventurers. I hear you visit on behalf of¡­ unusual business.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a misunderstanding,¡± Ry said. ¡°We are in the wrong house.¡±


    ¡°You lied in an attempt to sneak in,¡± the cultist said. ¡°You know of the catacomb¡¯s outer entrance, and you forced your way in despite orders to stay out. This intrusion was by intention. Try to claim you¡¯re here to catch rats, and I¡¯ll skip straight to clipping your fingers off.¡±


    ¡°We thought we had the right house, sure,¡± Ry said. ¡°But we were clearly wrong. If you could be so kind¡ª¡±


    Something hit Ry in the forehead with a whoosh. A projectile the size of a pebble from the Priest Keeper¡¯s staff. It hit hard enough for my heart to jump, but the impact didn¡¯t seem to faze Ry¡¯s consciousness.


    ¡°Answer what was asked, intruder,¡± the Priest Keeper said, pointing at him with her staff.


    ¡°Ask him!¡± Ry cried, gesturing at me with his head. ¡°He¡¯s the one who led us here! I don¡¯t know shit!¡±


    The cowled man eyed me for a moment. ¡°A wealthy outsider ordering adventurers. Interesting. For twenty years I have received visitors, and not once have I seen shirts woven as smoothly as yours. Tell me, where do you come from?¡±


    ¡°America, sir,¡± I said. I would have loved to lie, but I lacked the knowledge to dream of anything believable.


    ¡°America,¡± the man repeated. ¡°That is not a house nor country I am aware of. I can only presume it¡¯s wealthy enough.¡±


    The man took a step towards me, close enough to the bars that a crazier inmate could have flicked a wrist at him. ¡°Outsider. I offer you ten seconds to lay the names of every influential legislator who we might find displeased to see you harmed. With them we may negotiate your release.¡±


    Words got stuck in my mouth under his gaze. My brain stumbled on the few cells still running. The rope tying my hands seemingly extended to my thoughts. I had no idea what I could have possibly said to save myself.


    ¡°Nothing?¡± the man said with a laugh. ¡°Then, I have no choice but to treat you as any ordinary intruder, wealthy or not. Tell me, outsider, why have you three broken into the catacombs?¡±


    I licked my lips. The weight in my throat made it hard to speak. ¡°We are looking for a teacher¡­¡±


    ¡°Perfect Krose enunciation,¡± the cultist noted. ¡°Impressive for a man of your look. If only your lies were as proficient as your speech. I will repeat my question.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true!¡± I said. ¡°Jordan Feryah. He¡¯s a teacher, no? We were told he¡¯s in the area, and that he could teach a recent awakener. So, we hoped, um¡­¡±


    The man stared at me. ¡°You wished to avoid the slave contracts through an illegal unlicensed teacher. How did you know of Jordan Feryah¡¯s hideout?¡±


    ¡°Darko, sir,¡± I said. ¡°The Wyvern Slayer. He gave us the information.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± the man said. ¡°How considerate of the Wyvern Slayer. The catacombs were indeed Jordan Feryah¡¯s lab one year ago. Unfortunately, your precious Wyvern Slayer has slightly outdated information.¡± He turned to the Priest Keeper. ¡°The story sounds plausible enough. Examine her chords. How severe is her Corruption?¡±


    The Priest Keeper nodded. The masked men unlocked the cell doors, then dragged Em out of the cell. The Priest Keeper examined her tied hands much the same way Remy had examined mine. The process took ten seconds, during which I was too afraid to speak up and clear up the misunderstandings.


    Examination done, the Priest Keeper frowned. ¡°He lies. The girl has no chords to dream of.¡±


    Questioning eyes drew towards me.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m the one who awakened.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± the man said. ¡°Examine him.¡±


    So they did. The masked men snatched me with rough hands. I stumbled on my feet. The men didn¡¯t care, dragging me and my limp foot. They held me with my back facing the Priest Keeper.


    The Priest keeper¡¯s cold touch tickled my tied wrists. An experience that I would have called uncomfortable two days ago, back when I hadn¡¯t been tied down and threatened by cultists. My tolerance for discomfort had doubled within the last few hours.


    The Priest Keeper gasped. She stood and stepped backwards. ¡°You¡­ No¡­¡±


    ¡°What is it!¡± the cowled man asked.


    Through long breaths, the Priest Keeper said, ¡°Call the emergency. Now. The Founder will want a word with this man.¡±


    The man frowned. ¡°Azetoth departed days ago. He¡¯s bound to have reached Vulusen by now. The Archpriests will be furious for interruptions.¡±


    ¡°They will kill us if we don¡¯t call,¡± the Priest Keeper said. ¡°This man¡­ His mana chords are Hallowed!¡±


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level one]


    [Recent awakener]


    [Abilities: Fireball, Carillia¡¯s assistance]

 11: Afraid of the Dentist

    ¡°Are you absolutely certain? Hallowed chords?¡± The cowled man spoke of the word like some godly myth.


    ¡°I struggle to believe it,¡± the Priest Keeper said. ¡°But these chords are unmistakable.¡±


    ¡°The last male with Hallowed chords was born hundreds of years ago,¡± the man said. ¡°Are you absolutely certain?¡±


    The Priest Keeper tested my wrists again. ¡°As certain as the daylight moons.¡±


    The man¡¯s expression remained doubtful. ¡°Priesthood has kept me a virgin for sixty years. I have followed my pledge as I have my devotion. Yet if your claim holds true, I may consider myself thoroughly penetrated by the touch of Goddess Akona herself. This luck cannot exist.¡±


    ¡°I apologize for the inconvenience,¡± the Priest Keeper said, still examining my wrists. ¡°But my twenty years in the study of magic does not allow any other explanation for the situation than a gift of the Moons. This man¡¯s chords are as Hallow as the gods allow.¡±


    What in the name of Shiela is happening! I barely had time to process their words, and I did not like that I was the topic of the conversation.


    ¡°You claim that the next incarnation of divinity itself has stumbled onto our turf by happenstance?¡± The man stared at her. ¡°And this happens on the day the Founder himself has offered benedictions for the merest fraction of intel on Hallowed mana chords?¡±


    ¡°As I said,¡± the Priest Keeper said, ¡°we are to call the emergency. Now.¡±


    A small chuckle came from the man¡¯s twisted mouth. He laughed, then outright cackled. ¡°The World bless Azetoth! Carry this man to the clairvoyant chamber. Word of this is to reach the Founder today!¡±


    The masked men took the order, offering me no chance to wish goodbyes to my cellmates. They lifted me from my armpits, then placed me down on a wooden chair. I was tied to its backrest with another layer of rope. The masked men carried me past dark hallways, into a basement, then upstairs, as casually as moving a palanquin.


    A heavy door atop the stairs welcomed us to a spacious church. The hall was built like a reversed auditorium. An oversized podium¡ªfit for three and adorned by freaky sculptures of animal heads¡ªwas stepped above the descending rows of wooden benches. Seats near the bottom wouldn¡¯t see a damn thing above, and that seemed to be by design.


    I hated that this was the most lavishly adorned room I had come across in my new world. A multi-layered chandelier lit every mosaic of the triangular ceiling. Red patterned carpets covered the aisles. In the middle of the hall was a wooden real-size sculpture of a wolf circling a swordsman.


    The cowled man struggled to hold his chuckles. I was carried through the right-most aisle towards a small door by the quiet corner of the church. Holy shit, this was really happening. I feared even Jesus in his prime couldn¡¯t have helped free me from the cultist¡¯s tangled plans.


    This is a war-free utopia, I thought. I have been sent by a fucking Goddess herself. Nothing bad can happen to me. I just need to trust in fate, and I cannot be¡ª


    My chair was planted inside the windowless chamber. Decorated with dust and dried bloodstains, the room¡¯s furniture consisted of a wooden table with a locked chest on top, and a bed-like contraption that my knowledge of history interpreted as a torture rack. My face went pale.


    The head cultist grinned as he kneeled to match my eye level. ¡°Oh, how the Founder will be pleased. Oh, how you will please him indeed.¡±


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± I managed to utter out in a terrified whimper.


    ¡°Me,¡± the cultist said. ¡°I want your utmost devotion for your new allies. The cult of Azetoth! As for the Founder¡ªit is beyond me what Azetoth has in plans for your Hallowed chords. Regardless, your presence has earned me the greatest of promotions. We are pleased to have you.¡±


    ¡°I will speak,¡± I said in a near whisper. ¡°There is no need for torture¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, the rack is only to be used with the most difficult of problems,¡± the cultist said. ¡°You are not a problem at all, but a gift of God. Priestess, open the chest. The emergency contact is to be used.¡±


    The Priest Keeper nodded. With her staff and through some magical nonsense, the chest opened. Within lay a lone scroll. The head cultist grinned as he picked up the scroll. He ripped it in half.


    The scroll turned to particles much the same way Em¡¯s scroll of illumination had. The particles, however, did not dissipate but clung together like a school of fish. It formed the shape of a floating orb, forming a hologram.


    Ten seconds later, the orb turned into the outline of a face. Monotone gray, I struggled to judge its characteristics, but it appeared like a man with long hair.


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    ¡°An emergency from Vol¨¦s¡­¡± The head spoke with much more clarity than the hologram showed. ¡°State your name, servant. And tell me the code.¡±


    ¡°Two, seven, six, Vol¨¦s blooms in crimson,¡± the head cultist said. ¡°My name is Arcturus, Priest of Vol¨¦s. First Archpriest, Rigrith, please hear me.¡±


    ¡°And what may be the justification for calling an emergency?¡± the head, Rigrith, asked. ¡°To remind you, the collapse of your station is not to be considered an issue. No reinforcements will be sent. Azetoth apologizes, but I recommend abandoning duty and escaping to Arkber.¡±


    ¡°The church lies undetected and perfectly operational,¡± Arcturus said. ¡°I call on serendipitous news that is to reach the Lord Founder. My operation has captured and contained a fresh awakener of Hallowed mana chords.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Rigrith asked.


    ¡°My station¡ª¡±


    ¡°I heard you loud and clear,¡± Rigrith said. ¡°I do not believe you. You clueless potato sniffers claim to have captured a fresh awakener of fucking Hallowed chords?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Arcturus said. ¡°Priestess twenty has confirmed this.¡±


    ¡°Which herbs has Priestess twenty been inhaling?¡± Rigrith asked. ¡°I might require a puff to believe this claim.¡±


    ¡°The Priestess is inhaling twenty years of magical study,¡± Arcturus said. ¡°I trust her judgment.¡±


    Rigrith¡¯s hologram watched Arcturus in doubt. ¡°Who is the wielder?¡±


    ¡°The wielder is right here for your questioning,¡± Arcturus said. ¡°Tied down and immobile.¡±


    The eyes of the hologram turned to me. ¡°State your name.¡±


    ¡°Cillian,¡± I said, too afraid to lie. ¡°Cillian Bermeyer.¡±


    ¡°And whose reincarnation you might be?¡± Rigrith asked.


    My mouth hung open for a moment. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Your parents,¡± Arcturus said, frowning at me.


    I sat, frozen, reluctant to drop the information. Could these people do something to my parents? I doubted it. But what if interdimensional curses existed?


    ¡°Arcturus, Arcturus,¡± Rigrith said. ¡°Have you called an emergency before confirming the identity of the sniffer you have captured? This is why I despise calls from you country idiots.¡±


    ¡°Lord Rigrith, I called you immediately and without delay,¡± Arcturus said. ¡°I was under the impression that the arrival of Hallowed chords was most important regardless of identity.¡±


    The hologram face stayed still for a moment. ¡°This better not be a fake call, Priest Arcturus.¡±


    ¡°The awakener is Hallowed,¡± Arcturus said. ¡°I swear upon my oaths to the cult and the Moons, this man is Hallowed.¡±


    ¡°Confirm this with every mage in your control,¡± Rigrith said. ¡°Control the extent of his Corruption through any means necessary. If Averia is still alive, order her to keep the wielder safe. If anything happens to the subject, call the emergency.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my Lord,¡± Arcturus said.


    ¡°I will place my trust in your station,¡± Rigrith said. ¡°My best mages will depart to Vol¨¦s this second. I will deliver news of this to Azetoth personally.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, my Lord,¡± Arcturus said.


    ¡°And for your orders¡­¡± Rigrith said. ¡°Clear the man¡¯s mouth and identity. Carve out his lineage. His parents, his grandparents, and their ancestors. His birthplace and date. His lovers and friends. Torture out his every bit of knowledge, his every fucking preference for pleasuring himself. No secrets are to be left inside his head by the time we arrive. You are not to waste Azetoth¡¯s time introducing this sniffer.¡±


    My breath caught. At that moment, my wishes for survival switched to prayers for a swift death. Torture. Rigrith had mentioned torture.


    ¡°I will not disappoint,¡± Arcturus said with a devoted bow.


    Rigrith¡¯s hologram nodded. ¡°I expect perfect execution of orders. This meeting has concluded. Reinforcements arrive within two days.¡±


    With that, the particles of the hologram dissipated into thin air. Silence filled the room, and I swore Arcturus could hear my heart begging for a savior. The orders couldn¡¯t have been serious. Surely, I wouldn¡¯t have to¡ª


    ¡°You heard the orders!¡± Arcturus said. ¡°Tie him to the rack.¡±


    ¡°No, please!¡± I called. ¡°I¡¯ll speak. Honest to God, I¡¯ll answer anything you ask!¡±


    The two lesser cultists got to work untying my rope, not listening to my pleas. I panicked. By uncontrollable reflex, I struggled and kicked, trying to stop the men from freeing me off the chair, onto the rack.


    Hell, I was afraid of the goddamn dentist. One pinch at my body, and I was already skittish. I¡¯d rather send the entirety of Earth to its swift death than spend five minutes in torture.


    ¡°Please!¡± I cried. ¡°No. Stop. Stop!¡±


    My hands were freed, the loops around my chest unwrapping. Reality registered in haphazard sensations. Holy hell. I was really on my way to the torture rack.


    My eyes scanned the surroundings. I had no plan. I didn¡¯t know what the hell I was even looking for. There was nothing I could use to save myself, and no Excaliburs spawned within my arm¡¯s reach. Anything. Please. Something to help me.


    One of the cultists untying me bumped his funny bone against the chair and cursed under his breath. The other paused to check on him.


    The moment of distraction brought up something in my memory. A stupid thought, but the only hope of salvation I could cling to. I was a Goddess¡¯s apostle. And as much as I liked to cry for my uselessness, and to curse Shiela for getting me here, I still had one gift from the gods I had been too busy to open.


    In utter desperation, I whispered, ¡°Status.¡±

 12: Emergency

    ¡°He led us to a fucking trap,¡± Ry whispered. ¡°Of course he did. Why did we even slightly believe his story?¡±


    Emillia Selayna, known as ¡°Em¡± by most, wished her arms were free so she could punch her companion in the face. How was it that, despite all her efforts, she always teamed up with the adventurers whose heads were built of clay? ¡°Ry,¡± she said. ¡°Are you seriously suggesting that this was all a setup?¡±


    ¡°Could very well be,¡± Ry said. ¡°The letter could have been forged. The examination of Cill¡¯s chords could have been staged. I bet that fucker is laughing with the cult right about now.¡±


    ¡°Do you have to sound so ridiculous?¡± Em asked.


    The cultists and their mad old priest had been so ecstatic with Cillian that they forgot the three other captives still tied in the cells. Em¡¯s satchel and Ry¡¯s sword still lay on the floor outside. The cult placed a lot of trust in their cells.


    Still, Em was surprised. Cillian was not only blessed with mana chords, but he¡¯d received the rarest of gifts. Hallowed mana chords. Power with enough potential to rule a country.


    And the poor man was already at risk of losing it all.


    ¡°Okay, maybe it isn¡¯t a setup,¡± Ry said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean that he¡¯s excused for leading us possibly to our deaths.¡±


    ¡°Cillian¡¯s knowledge came directly from Darko,¡± Em said. ¡°We read the letter. The Wyvern Slayer is just as responsible for our capture as Cillian is. But of course, you could never blame your omnipotent hero for getting us here.¡±


    Ry stayed silent, then let out a sigh. ¡°Em, I¡¯m sorry. I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I could have never guessed the church of all places could be in the cult¡¯s control.¡±


    ¡°None of us could have,¡± Em said. ¡°The church has stayed in operation as it always has. My grandmother was at the sermon today, and she hasn¡¯t once complained about a change of priests. Moons, I still don¡¯t believe the church is hijacked. The cult has kept perfect order.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± Ry said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I guess I should say that.¡±


    ¡°Keep it,¡± Em said. ¡°Let¡¯s talk plans. As far as I know, the cult isn¡¯t known for letting their captives walk free.¡±


    ¡°We have to risk an escape, then. Do you have ideas?¡±


    ¡°I might,¡± Em said. ¡°Rakash? How close is the nearest pair of keys to our cell?¡±


    The Gorthorn barely lifted her head. ¡°In the pockets of the sentry, I presume.¡±


    ¡°Does the sentry work alone? Will he hear if I call?¡±


    ¡°The poachers trust their cells,¡± Rakash said. ¡°If the lock wasn¡¯t magically inscribed, I would have escaped long ago. The sentry responds to calls, but not without punishing interruptions. That¡¯s all I can promise.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Em said. ¡°I guess it¡¯s worth a shot.¡±


    ¡°Can you reach it?¡± Ry asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying,¡± Em said, gritting her teeth. ¡°It¡¯s stuck and good.¡±


    Her wrists were tied with a proper knot. Even a man wielding vigor would struggle to untie a knot as tight as this. As careless as the cult was, they had a reason for trusting their cells.


    Em, however, wasn¡¯t a simpleton of brute force. She picked at the right sleeve of her robe with her left index finger. Within the fabric was a small hole, inconceivable without the correct angle. Em stuck her finger inside the self-crafted pocket.


    She felt it inside. The piece of parchment, wrapped seven times into a small but thick square, hidden inside her sleeve. She just had to hook her finger around it and squeeze it out of the hole¡­


    ¡°There,¡± she said with a grin. ¡°I got it.¡±


    ¡°Get us out of here,¡± Ry said.


    Em unwrapped the parchment. Carefully by habit. Her unreliable cheap scrolls had trained her to treat scrolls carefully; the worst seals were sometimes broken by the slightest of touch. This particular scroll, however, had survived through storms inside Em¡¯s sleeve.


    To everyone Em met, Cillian included, she said her scrolls were trash. Which wasn¡¯t a total lie. She traded most of her expensive scrolls for multiple copies of worse versions. Better to enjoy five bad spells than to miss an extravagant one. As a result, her satchel was mostly filled with the worst of the worst, darts so flimsy that any real mage would laugh.


    However, it never hurt to keep a few proper spells tucked away to surprise tougher opponents.


    Em ripped the parchment in half, freeing the spell inside. The trapped spell of a master lockpick mage cast itself in Em¡¯s stead. The spell searched for its target, and Em begged it wouldn¡¯t cast on a random object it thought looked menacing. This was the only scroll of its kind she owned, and her life could very well have been in its hands.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    To her relief, the spell caught on the rope tying her wrists. Em grinned. ¡°Now,¡± she said. ¡°You two. Listen carefully.¡±


    ***


    Ramus was on the last bite of his honey-coated flatbread when the screams of the prisoners cut his break in half.


    He sighed, placed the last piece of bread in his mouth, and put on his mask. Job called. The break would continue shortly enough. There was no reason to get angry. He trotted towards the cells to check up on whatever bullshit the prisoners were up to this time.


    Ramus, like most others unfortunate enough to end up in the dreaded future mothers warned about, had expected the cult¡¯s dirty work to be arduous and traumatizing. To his pleasant surprise, the job was ridiculously easy. Boring even. He simply had to feed the prisoners once a day and let them relieve themselves in the mornings and afternoons. With the small number of prisoners, the job was barely an inconvenience.


    He entered the cell chamber, frowning as the new girl¡¯s pained wails picked at his ears. ¡°What is it!¡± he called.


    ¡°Please, my stomach,¡± the girl said between hasty breaths. ¡°Oh, Lord. It¡¯s going to explode!¡±


    Ramus took a breath. ¡°Toilet time is in two hours.¡±


    ¡°Please, you must make an exception!¡± the girl cried. ¡°I can¡¯t make it that long. Please, I ate lunch at Lucca¡¯s. These are my only clothes!¡±


    Ramus stared as the girl bobbed up and down, her stomach convulsing. He¡¯d never seen a stomachache so vile. The girl was right. She wouldn¡¯t survive two hours. Five minutes would be a stretch. She was already crying.


    The Moons bless him. Ramus would not survive cleanup duty. Lucca¡¯s food was already shit, and Ramus was not in the mood to find out what it looked like recycled. If the girl was a Gorth, perhaps he¡¯d leave her and her companions with the mess. But Ramus wasn¡¯t so heartless as to leave a cute girl soiled.


    He picked up his keys from his pockets and opened the door. He stepped inside. ¡°I hope this is the last time you eat at Lucca¡¯s before getting captured, girl. I can assure you this is the last time I will ever¡ª¡±


    His eyes opened wide as a figure from the corner lunged at his throat. The orange blotched Gorth. Its hands were untied! Ramus reached into his cloak for his weapon, only for the dagger to fly off his arms as the Gorth made impact.


    His back thumped against the ground. He struggled, attempting to scream. His untrained arms were no match for the Gorth¡¯s strength. The beast pushed against his neck, blocking his breath. He flailed his arms in an attempt to hit back, failing thoroughly.


    Within fifteen seconds of wavering will, he lost consciousness.


    ***


    ¡°Are you sure we should take her along?¡± Ry whispered, glancing at Rakash. The fallen guard lay on the floor.


    ¡°Of course we will take her along,¡± Em said. Despite Ry¡¯s protest, the Gorthorn had not gone feral after being let out of the cage. ¡°And I will not argue about it.¡±


    She stepped over the metal door sweep, heading straight for her satchel. She glanced inside and counted nothing missing. ¡°I have four fireballs, three poison darts, a two-layered mana barrier, and a few party tricks. And I¡¯m willing to spend that.¡±


    Ry picked up his sword. ¡°Should be enough for an escape. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°You will abandon him?¡± Rakash asked.


    Ry frowned at her. ¡°It¡¯s the cult of Azetoth we¡¯re dealing with. They¡¯ve got a mage. They¡¯ve got this Warden, and who knows how many men against our three. You can¡¯t seriously suggest we go after Cill. We¡¯ve got a free escape right here through the catacombs.¡±


    ¡°The no-breed man might get killed,¡± Rakash said, matching the frown. She glanced at Em.


    Em bit her lip. As much as she wanted to agree with Rakash and save Cillian, Ry was right. The cult had more men than she had spells. They had no chance, even if Em finally used the one great spell she¡¯d refused to sell for years.


    ¡°Escape is not the same as abandonment,¡± Em said. ¡°His chances for survival are far greater if we sneak out to ask for help. We¡¯ve found a cultist hideout. The issue is serious enough for a dispatch to be sent.¡±


    Rakash looked doubtful. ¡°Wise words for a no-breed. Yet will your kind send help, or will they abandon him too?¡±


    ¡°The guild will send Darko himself,¡± Ry said. ¡°Escape is our first priority. You will have to trust us on this.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I will assist however I can.¡±


    ¡°We escape where we came,¡± Ry said. ¡°And we hope the exit isn¡¯t too guarded. The mage is preoccupied with Cill. We should be able to fight our way out.¡±


    Em nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Before leaving, however, she picked up Cillian¡¯s satchel. He would probably want that.


    They walked with haste, but not loudly enough to alert the guards. The first corner of the escape turned nicely. No ambushes, no crazy screaming from behind. For a moment, Em thought the escape would proceed smoothly.


    Their trot was cut short by the sound of footsteps from directly ahead. Heavy footsteps, the clank of plate armor. Something big was approaching from the catacombs.


    Rakash froze. ¡°That¡¯s him!¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Who?¡± Ry asked.


    ¡°The Warden,¡± Rakash said. She was already nudging them in the opposite direction. ¡°We must go. You cannot beat him.¡±


    Ry hesitated, but as the clank of armor grew closer, he gritted his teeth. ¡°Where do we go?¡±


    ¡°We exit through the church,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Sneak as far as you can. On my call, run for the exit.¡±


    If Ry had something to argue, he didn¡¯t make them. Rakash took the position of leader as she guided the group deeper into the catacombs. They turned two corners before reaching a wooden door.


    Rakash tested the handle. Locked. Grimacing, she took a step back, then tackled the door into splinters with the weight of her body. They squeezed through the opening, into the church¡¯s dimly lit basement. They didn¡¯t wait around, however, immediately dashing for the stairs, towards the stone slab of a door leading to the church. Rakash pushed it open.


    That was when the screams of men burning alive started.


    Muscle Enhancement - The simplest of offensive support spells. Applicable on all live beings, even on the whimsical creatures that earthlings call ¡®gamers.¡¯ The spell enhances strength to levels that steroid users could only dream of. Use on animals or other low-intelligence beings is not recommended.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400; text-align: justify">Goddess Shiela¡¯s description of the spell ¡°Muscle Enhancement¡±</li>


    </ul>

 13: Goddess’s Useless Assistance

    ¡°Status,¡± I said.


    Knowledge appeared in my thoughts while the cultists worked on untying the looped knots around my chest. Knowledge was the best I could describe it. Upon the mention of the keyword, text invaded my mind. Something I instinctively knew, like a book I had thoroughly memorized. It read:


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level one]


    [Recent awakener]


    [Abilities: Fireball, Carillia¡¯s assistance]


    The cultists finished untying me and dragged me towards the torture rack. I stopped struggling, focusing all my will on understanding my newfound knowledge. I read as fast as I could. The process took me no longer than a few seconds. It was as if I knew the contents of the information intuitively.


    Attached to the knowledge was a note.


    Hey, Cill. Shiela here. I see you¡¯ve opened the system. Hooray! It took me a long while to develop this. Long enough to annoy my peers. You better be thankful. I apologize if any errors show up.


    I promised I would offer assistance with magic. This is it. I trust the system is simple enough to let you explore on your own time. Just say the name of the spell you want to perform, visualizing it as best you can, and your mana chords will perform the feat automatically.


    That was all I needed to read. My left arm was in the process of being clamped into the metal brace stuck to the rack when I shouted, ¡°Fireball!¡±


    For a moment, the others stared at me as if I was insane.


    The looks didn¡¯t last a second when they saw magic protruding from my right arm.


    I had no idea what I was doing, nor what I should be visualizing, but my efforts showed results. A surge of what I instinctively knew was mana surged from my heart and into my right palm. My body enlightened, as if a year¡¯s worth of massages and cold showers had healed aches in an instant.


    The exertion of power was anything but relaxing. A whirl of fire formed before my palm. It spun like a tornado and grew. Within half a second it formed into a ball. Its heat touched my skin like a bonfire inches from my face. The room turned into an oven, yet my fingers didn¡¯t burn to ash. Something protected me from the heat.


    I quickly pointed my palm towards Arcturus. The old bastard wore a look of utter shock and terror.


    The fireball decided it had grown enough. The attack blasted from my palm, shooting directly into Arcturus before he had a chance to scream. The molten fireball melted through skin¡ªmerged into one with his bone. Within seconds, the man was all but gone.


    The two masked cultists tying me down screamed. I stared at the death I had caused. Arcturus died so fast, so effortlessly.


    My spell had killed a man, just like that.


    Spray clumps of molten lava had splashed in the fireball¡¯s wake. The fire was spreading to the wooden table. The ceiling filled with smoke. I coughed under the heat and immediately realized I wasn¡¯t totally immune to fire.


    The two cultists tying me down abandoned their mission, freeing my arms. They covered their mouths with their robes, then rushed towards the half-open door. I should have followed, but the shock of it all made me hesitate.


    The Priest Keeper¡¯s grimace was what brought me back to action. I stood up, ready to run. I took one step towards the doors.


    My limbs suddenly stopped responding. The Priest Keeper pointed her staff at me. The orb glowed, directing some sort of spell at me. I could barely breathe! It was as if my limbs were blocked with invisible shackles.


    ¡°You¡ª¡± She coughed. ¡°¡ªare not going anywhere.¡± I was lifted into the air by levitation. She carried me past the flames and through the open door.


    My paralyzed body couldn¡¯t do more than cry.


    ***


    ¡°That¡¯s Cill!¡± Em gushed. They watched as the Priest Keeper, the cultist mage, escaped the burning room. Smoke arose from the doorway and into the church until a brave cultist slammed the door shut. ¡°He¡¯s caught in ¡®mind frost!¡¯¡±


    The clank of armor sounded from behind.


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    ¡°The mage can¡¯t cast magic while the spell is active,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Sorcerer, keep the Warden distracted. Swordsman, cut whatever is ahead. We rush the mage. Take my blessing and run after me.¡±


    Rakash placed her palm on Em and Ry. Through staffless casting, magic extended from her chords and into Em and Ry. Em¡¯s limbs felt lighter, head more alert. She, despite having studied magic, could not identify Rakash¡¯s spell. She could only guess it was a variation of ¡®muscle enhancement.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Go!¡± Rakash took up running.


    Immediately and by surprise, the cultists were alerted of their presence. The mage holding Cillian paused at the center aisle, unsure how to respond. Everyone else¡ªa dozen or so lesser cultists¡ªtook arms.


    Crossbows were lifted. Two bolts fired. One missed by a mile, the other aimed at Rakash¡¯s head. The Gorthorn flicked the bolt off with a clawed finger without slowing down.


    Em panted as she tried to keep up with Ry and Rakash. She hopped onto the sanctuary, running past the altar, and towards the descending aisles. The two were fast, hopping down as if stairs didn¡¯t exist. Even with muscle enhancement, Em struggled to chase. She¡¯d trip if she ran any faster!


    The clanks of armor approached from behind. Running footsteps.


    With a grimace, Em picked up a scroll from her satchel. She haphazardly flicked a fireball toward the footsteps¡¯ direction with the best aim she could spare during the run. She was afraid to check behind.


    The Priest Keeper finally realized Rakash wouldn¡¯t be stopped by standing around. She released Cill, who fell to the ground. She pointed her staff down the middle aisle, directly at the three approaching maniacs.


    The orb of her staff glowed. A projectile formed, taking the shape of a raggedly sharp pointing spike. Em¡¯s heart dropped. The mage was casting ¡°crystal icicle!¡± They were dead!


    Rakash barely slowed down. Mana surged into her fingers. A magic coating wrapped her claws, extending her already deadly nails into the claws of wyverns.


    The icicle shot forth.


    Rakash thrust her claws against the crystal. The tips of two weapons met. Both spells cracked into pieces in an instant, but the defense wasn¡¯t perfect. Crystal debris flew past Rakash, cutting her and Ry¡¯s skin before both spells dissipated into thin air.


    Eyes wide, the cultist mage knew she didn¡¯t have time for another spell. She turned around and rushed towards the doors, where three masked cultists accepted her into their protection. They held their swords, forming a protective concave before the mage.


    Within the next few seconds, Rakash and Ry reached Cillian. They paused, holding formation.


    Em was a few rows behind. A few more rows, and¡ª


    Something caught her leg. She tripped, falling on her face. In a panic, she pushed herself back to her knees. The clank of armor came from five seconds behind. She pillaged through her satchel. Where was that spell?


    Em turned around just in time to see the behemoth in black plate armor holding a two-handed sword meant to slay dragons. Black mithril. The most durable of legendary metals, immune to most magic, and heavy enough that only vigor users could wield their weight. The figure must have been seven feet tall. Em had heard rumors of these black-plated warriors of the cult. Even the Royals struggled to believe they were real.


    In desperation, Em flicked through her scrolls, her fingers eventually landing on the distinguishable piece of parchment. The surface was smooth, expensively delicate. There was no way to miss it.


    Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, Em ripped in half the scroll, releasing a spell her ancestors had spent months crafting.


    ¡°Arcane discharge¡± lit the whole room in a blinding white. The scroll priced fifty silver marks in material worth translated into a physical shockwave.


    The magic released was borderline rogue, uncontrollable, and dangerous, thus a double-edged sword. Yet, scrolls did not follow the rules of mana chords. The safety of a mage did not matter when the spell was cast by an object.


    The same spell was known to have killed wyverns. And nobody, nobody, expected such power to come from a mere piece of paper.


    The shockwave blasted directly into the chest plate of the Warden. He was thrust backwards, falling limp on the ground.


    Em, her breathing rough, stared for a second before standing up and joining her three companions. Cultists surrounded their little position on all sides. The Priest Keeper blocked their exit. For a moment, however, everyone stayed hesitant. Their attention was on the collapsed Black Plate.


    ¡°It¡¯s dead, right?¡± Ry whispered.


    The armor flinched. Em¡¯s heart dropped. Slowly, but ever so surely, the mass of armor pushed itself up. It picked up its sword. All that resulted from Em''s scroll was a slight bump on its chest plate.


    ***


    I stood up just in time to find us utterly surrounded and helpless. Crossbows filled my vision where staves and swords the size of boulders didn¡¯t. The black-plated swordsman took a step forward.


    Ry pushed Em out of the way, then held his sword, facing the swordsman. The two locked in a staredown. Rakash frowned at the Priest Keeper and her men. Em handed back my sling bag, then faced the crossbows, keeping attention on both sides.


    Once again, I stood around, useless as a spoon in a gunfight.


    But I had yet to read the rest of Shiela¡¯s note.


    You are not to inform anyone of this system, nor of your association with the Gods. This is the only courtesy I ask. I did not reincarnate you to spread your name as my apostle. Revealing the extent of your reincarnation would be far too problematic for the world. I hope you understand.


    The swordsman in black took a step forward. Ry twitched. I continued reading.


    Oh, and in case you still get in trouble, I asked my good friend, and God of this planet, Carillia to look after you. Don¡¯t hesitate to call for his assistance if you are in a pinch!


    Regards, Shiela.


    Well. That seemed awfully convenient. The guards were getting too close for comfort, and I could sure use some damn assistance.


    With as much intent as I could muster, I called, ¡°Carillia¡¯s assistance!¡±


    [...]


    [¡­]


    [Carillia is unable to assist at this moment.]


    At my cue, the black-plated swordsman took running. Ry screamed as a sword the size of ship masts slammed down at his head.

 14: Hell

    Ry¡¯s sword was no good in blocking the impending doom. The black behemoth of a sword snapped his blade in half without a twitch. The swing barely lost momentum before slamming against the ground between Ry¡¯s feet. Blood sprayed.


    ¡°Fireball!¡± I screamed, pointing my palm at the death before me.


    The same hellish process began. Fire whirled in my palm, extending into a fireball, growing and growing. The plated man, through his visor, met my panicked eyes. He tried to yank his sword from the floor to no avail. The sword was stuck.


    The swordsman jumped backwards, abandoning his sword just as the fireball launched. My attack connected with Ry¡¯s body, splattering lava all over the path it had trailed. Ry¡¯s corpse burned to cinders.


    Worse, a stray spark of lava hit Em in the left shoulder.


    She screamed in pure agony. For but a moment, she was distracted from the defense.


    That moment was enough for a crossbow bolt from an eager cultist to pierce her skull.


    The most primitive of wails escaped from my mouth. I wanted to close my eyes and die right there. Instead, I watched the fire spread onto Em¡¯s corpse. The girl was like gasoline to my fireball. The flames spread to the carpet below her.


    My adrenaline-filled body barely recognized reality. My allies were dead.


    And I was still surrounded.


    My next actions were, and always will be, a haze in memory. Something within me snapped. I recall screaming ¡°Fireball! Fireball! Fireball!¡± repeating the word faster than Shiela¡¯s system could register. I tossed fireballs at the plated man. I tossed fireballs at cultists. I tossed fireballs at the church.


    And when my vision was filled with nothing but burning holiness, I tossed fireballs at fireballs.


    How I wasn¡¯t shot back was a mystery. Rakash must have protected me, though the details were lost in the mess of fire.


    Anything wooden in the church was promptly burned. Benches. Carpets. The wolf¡¯s statue. All were recycled to life anew as black ash. The stone foundation itself struggled to resist the temptation. I was hell itself. Nothing could escape the power of my level-one fireballs.


    My allies were dead. I had directly killed Em. What reason did I have to filter my shots?


    At some point during the process, I had the conscious thought that an escape through the hellhole I had created could prove slightly problematic. I paused my barrage; I hadn¡¯t caught sight of crossbows or plate armor for the last fifteen fireballs.


    Holy seven hells, I thought, coughing under the heat. It dawned on me that I wouldn¡¯t be walking out of this alive. The escape was so impossibly blocked that I simply stared at destruction, hoping some brilliant idea would come to my head.


    No ideas came. The fire only spread. Shiela bless the men scorched from my war crimes.


    Oh, God, where was Rakash? Had I killed her too?


    I collapsed on my knees. If my soul had been black before arriving in this damned country, it was now a devilish crimson. I could very well have been named Satan himself.


    Why? was all I could think through my tears. What have I done?


    The church burned. Flames spread all around me. I coughed from the smoke. Within minutes, I would burn alive.


    My shocked survival instincts panicked. Despite my crimes, I didn¡¯t want to die. Dear God, I had to get out of here!


    Shiela, or fate or whatever, must have read my thoughts.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    My body felt it first. The building¡¯s foundations trembled from the unidentifiable impact. An opening appeared within the wall of flames by force of wind, as if an invisible fighter jet had flown past the front doors and through the back. Flames were pushed back to the left and right of the mysterious force that left windows shattered in its wake.


    I stared in awe and fear at the front doors. At the source of the impact stood a red-haired swordsman with a glimmering greatsword. Nearly kneeling, he appeared like a cartoon character having performed an overhead swing with all their might.


    Darko? My mouth hung open.


    Two figures approached after Darko with their staves out. Shena, through magical trickery, siphoned fireball remains from the burning church into her staff. Remy, her dress outshining fire, holding an urn in one hand and pointing her staff with the other, cast water where stubborn flames refused to extinguish. The two mages cleared a path for Darko. He headed straight for me.


    ¡°Can you walk?¡± Darko asked. The area was safe for now. Most of the black smoke had escaped the building with Darko¡¯s shockwave.


    My facial features were frozen. I stared at his blurry figure for a solid fifteen seconds before my brain snapped back to action. ¡°Rakash!¡± I called.


    I stood up, looking around. ¡°Rakash!¡± I repeated in desperation. If she was dead¡­ If I had killed her too¡ª


    A groan sounded from underneath a layer of unidentifiable rubble. Rakash pushed her way free, emerging from the collapsed remains of what used to be a stone statue.


    She eyed Darko warily, almost frowning, but appeared mostly unharmed. Thank Shiela. Oh, bless the Goddess, I hadn¡¯t killed another!


    ¡°Rakash?¡± Shena eyed the Gorthorn, wide-eyed. ¡°Rakash? Is that you?¡±


    ¡°Shena?¡± Rakash faced her. A grin slowly overtook her apprehension. ¡°Odd place for a reunion, my friend. I thank you for teaching me that bubble spell of yours. Just saved my life.¡±


    ¡°You two know each other?¡± Darko asked.


    ¡°Gods, yes,¡± Shena said. ¡°Are you alone, Rakash? Where is everyone else?¡±


    ¡°That is a question I ask every day,¡± Rakash said. ¡°They are not here, all I know.¡±


    ¡°Save the reunions for later,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ve got problems to avoid. Ra¡­ Rakash? I invite you to come with us.¡± He turned to me. ¡°And same to you. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re safe, Cill. Can you walk?¡±


    I stood in shock for a moment longer. ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    Darko nodded, though took hold of my hand. We calmly walked towards the front doors, past the scorched benches. The remains of my madness. Amongst the mess, a collapsed clump of plate armor lay unmoving, undoubtedly dead.


    ¡°Moons,¡± Remy said. ¡°A Black Plate. Burned just like that. They¡¯re supposed to be resistant to flames.¡±


    I stepped out of the building. The previously musty city air tasted like heaven itself. A cheering crowd sizing hundreds waited outside, chanting praises for the Wyvern Slayer. I stared in awe from the top of the stairs. When had I last seen civilization? Five years ago? Hell, it was still the same night.


    The most eager of the citizens tried rushing inside the church. First responders and good samaritans. There were dozens, all looking determined to save whoever was still inside.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Darko told them. ¡°It¡¯s far too dangerous. And not only because of the fire. If you wish to be useful, fetch adventurers. Fighting royals.¡±


    ¡°What of the wounded?¡± the closest man asked.


    ¡°The church was hijacked by cultists,¡± Darko said. ¡°Call for professionals! It is far too dangerous for ordinary men.¡±


    With some hesitation, the group nodded. They began shouting sense into the situation, ordering adventurers forward, telling the unorganized crowd to make space.


    ¡°Cill, I won¡¯t apologize just yet,¡± Darko said with an awfully serious look. ¡°And I will leave the interrogations for later. For now, I have but one question. Is the wielder of this fire still alive?¡±


    I paused for a moment. ¡°Yes,¡± I whispered. ¡°The wielder¡­ It¡¯s me.¡±


    Darko¡¯s eyebrows lifted. ¡°No shot. Don¡¯t lie to me.¡±


    ¡°The no-breed speaks no lies,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I cannot believe it, but his fire burned the Warden.¡±


    Darko paused. ¡°Bless the Moons, are you for real?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Remy said. ¡°A traumatic event is known to be a cause of a surge of uncontrolled rogue magic. Still, I¡¯ve never seen something of this scale.¡±


    ¡°I shot them. The¡­¡± I was afraid of speaking the word. What if I accidentally cast one again? ¡°I did this.¡±


    Darko looked concerned, then turned to Shena and Rakash. ¡°We are leaving. The royals will come asking questions soon.¡±


    ¡°Our ride leaves at sunrise,¡± Shena said.


    ¡°Wake the driver,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ll pay a month¡¯s wage if we have to. That should get some urgency in his limbs. Cill, unfortunately, you¡¯re coming with us. Is there anything you need to grab from Vol¨¦s? Any belongings?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said, still in disbelief.


    Darko nodded. ¡°As of right now, you two will be treated as members of my party. Let¡¯s get the hell out of this city. Afterward, we have a whole lot to discuss.¡±

 15: Damned Adventurers

    Daphine Belyris and her escort arrived at the church entrance the moment she smelled fire. By then, the legends had already spread.


    ¡°What happened!¡± she asked the bustling crowd. Citizens had pushed their way onto the crime scene¡ªa move they technically weren¡¯t authorized to pull. But with the lack of response from city watch, untrained help from citizens was better than no help at all.


    ¡°The Wyvern Slayer, miss!¡± an enthusiastic man responded. He mimicked a sword swing. ¡°He swung, and just like that the fire was gone!¡±


    Daphine bit her lip. Hardly a helpful answer. Where was the Priest Keeper? The head of a church¡¯s security. What of the priests or church officials? Someone who could explain what in their God¡¯s name had happened. The church appeared vacant.


    Daphine approached further, her escort calling for the crowd to create room. People moved out of the way, if only in fear of her escort¡¯s staff and Daphine¡¯s authority. More than a few disapproving looks drew toward her way. The people of Vol¨¦s weren¡¯t happy with the royals, and understandably so.


    She made it to the doors, close enough to the church that simple gawkers were afraid to approach. ¡°What happened?¡± she asked. This time, she directed the question towards a man of middle age who appeared to know mostly what he was doing. At the very least, he wore a serious look, determined to help.


    ¡°The church burned,¡± the man said. ¡°I was closing my stall, and suddenly the church caught fire from the inside.¡±


    I can bloody well see that, Daphine thought. Another church burned. The stone foundation didn¡¯t save this one from fate. Even without stepping in, Daphine could see the church was as good as a ruin.


    A group of adventurers walked past and into the church, barely throwing Daphine a glance. The situation appeared in control. The remaining sparks of fire were being extinguished. Dozens of first responders, mostly adventurers and simple men, pillaged for survivors amongst the ashen church.


    For Daphine to take control and call for the wounded would be an insult. Daphine had arrived far too late.


    ¡°I saw it with my own eyes,¡± the man continued. ¡°The Wyvern Slayer and his group walked in like the heat was nothing. He swung the fire out of the way with his sword. His mages did the rest. The fire was gone in minutes.¡±


    ¡°Where is the Wyvern Slayer?¡± Daphine asked.


    ¡°He¡­¡± the man said hesitantly. ¡°He left. Barely even let us cheer. Just told us to fetch adventurers, then got up and ran off before anyone could follow.¡±


    Daphine cursed in her thoughts. Damn that adventurer to all hell. Darko and his mysterious heroism. By the whispers around her, the man had already gained a reputation. Daphine would have to congratulate him when they next met. If only disasters wouldn¡¯t so conveniently spawn wherever he traveled.


    ¡°Any survivors?¡± Daphine asked.


    ¡°There was a strange man,¡± the man said. ¡°The Wyvern Slayer dragged him out personally.¡±


    ¡°His appearance? Nationality?¡± Daphine asked. ¡°Was he a Gorthorn? Lashani?¡±


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know where to begin describing him,¡± the man said. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone like him. He looked old on the face, like a human with an orc¡¯s face, but I don¡¯t think he was older than fifteen. And his clothes¡­ I wouldn¡¯t know what he wore, and I trade wardrobes for a living!¡±


    ¡°Did anyone else spot this man?¡± Daphine called. ¡°Did anyone recognize his nationality?¡±


    She questioned a dozen men, receiving similarly vague answers. Nobody could tell who the man was nor where he had come from. The man wore a black, possibly magically inscribed shirt with suspicious symbolling.


    Daphine gritted her teeth. Nothing was going her way lately. The investigation at the Count¡¯s mansion had to be paused before even starting, and now she had this. The men under her control were too few to catch a lost child efficiently; how did anyone expect her to sort this out as well?


    ¡°We need clues,¡± her escort said. ¡°The church takes priority. Let¡¯s clear the area before items are snatched away.¡±


    ¡°The Krose aren¡¯t dishonest enough to steal from a burned church,¡± Daphine said. ¡°We could leave a sack of gold at the doors, and the men would protect it with their pride. But you are right. This strange man might relate to the cult.¡±


    She stepped inside, onto the ash-stained stone floor. The lingering smell of smoke remained, headache-inducing as ever. The site was not happy for the lungs. The citizens in charge didn¡¯t seem to mind, pillaging the place with diligence.


    Not one church official was in sight. This didn¡¯t make sense. Surely, they hadn¡¯t all burned? Had they escaped?


    Then Daphine spotted it. A clump of black mithril lay amongst the ash in a husk. The remains of a Black Plate warrior of the cult of Azetoth. The kind that still gave Daphine¡¯s team trouble a month ago.


    ¡°The cult attacked!¡± her escort whispered.


    Daphine scowled. ¡°No. I fear it¡¯s something worse.¡±


    Her escort stared at her questioningly.


    Daphine examined the plate armor. The black mithril was scorched by the surface. Its shape was perfectly intact; the metal was far too sturdy to collapse under any heat. Yet, the wielder inside had undoubtedly burned, despite the magical protection that the armor provided.


    This wasn¡¯t the result of a normal fire. The only method to burn through magical protection was to overpower its threshold with pure heat.


    ¡°How long was the church under fire?¡± Daphine asked.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t have been over five minutes, Lieutenant,¡± the escort said.


    ¡°And this is the extent of the fire,¡± Daphine said. ¡°This isn¡¯t the result of a torch from the protest nor from an experiment gone wrong. Only magic could cause a fire this potent. Powerful magic.¡±


    Her escort nodded. ¡°A sensible conclusion. Who would do this?¡±


    Daphine thought. No church officials were in sight; everyone involved seemed to have evacuated. If the church had been attacked by the cult, why would a black plate have been burned? The cult wouldn¡¯t have burned their own men during an attack, and the church¡¯s servants were not powerful enough to cast a fire of this scale.


    Why, then, would a Black Plate have burned? Could the warrior have been caught in the accident?


    No. This was no accident. The church, Daphine feared, was in the cult¡¯s control. The cult had been attacked.


    And all of Daphine¡¯s senses pointed at this strange, magically infused, man.


    ¡°Gather everything unburnt that has been left behind,¡± Daphine ordered her escort. ¡°Find every witness and every survivor. Find any clues about the strange man¡¯s identity. Ask for the whereabouts of Darko, the Wyvern Slayer. We are to take control of this investigation.¡±


    Her escort nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±


    You might be named a Hero this time, Wyvern Slayer, Daphine thought. But the facade will break. I find you and the strange man, and I will pry the truth.

 16: Mana Sickness

    ¡°Alyce, you mustn¡¯t say that,¡± Jordan Feryah said to his Princess lying on the king-sized and lavishly adorned deathbed. His tone was calm. Nothing in the world could have brought anger out of him when faced with her.


    ¡°But it¡¯s true,¡± Alyce said. ¡°Mages haven¡¯t found a cure in ten thousand years. What makes you¡ª¡± She wheezed a cough. ¡°¡ªbelieve you can suddenly fix me?¡±


    ¡°Ancient mages have not tried what we are,¡± Jordan said. They¡¯d had the conversation before. Her memory was on a toll. ¡°Please, Alyce. Stay strong. Live for a week more. I promise the pain will subside.¡± He smiled as best he could. ¡°I love you. Please remember that.¡±


    Alyce Xastur. A phenomenal mage and the kindest of saints. Jordan¡¯s student and lover. Also, the fourth to the throne Princess of Kroses Sol. Her long silvery hair remained thick despite death¡¯s door creeping her way. Her skin was silk smooth. Limbs a little thin but still healthy. If only she could laugh and smile, she would appear like the same woman whose beauty brought Jordan to exile.


    The Princess¡¯s eyes stared somewhere in Jordan¡¯s direction. She struggled to find words, head hard at work, up until her breath suddenly ceased. Jordan¡¯s heart dropped. He stood from his chair, snapping his look to Alyce¡¯s doctor.


    The old man employed by Azetoth, wearing a white robe, rushed to the contraption by Alyce¡¯s thigh. A needle pierced through her leg, into her mana chords. It appeared much the same as Azetoth¡¯s mage enslaver, but the needle by Alyce¡¯s leg was not controlled by a heart.


    The doctor, with his own prowess as a mage, pulled magic through the needle, funneling magic out of Alyce¡¯s chords. The uncontrolled magic dissipated and pressurized the air in the room. The surge wasn¡¯t potent enough to shake furniture, but enough to lock one¡¯s ears.


    Jordan knew he couldn¡¯t do much to help. He hugged Alyce¡¯s head. Maybe she could feel his touch. Maybe she could find the strength to live longer, to buy some time for Azetoth¡¯s research.


    With enough magic removed from her body, light returned to Alyce¡¯s eyes. She took a breath.


    She offered Jord a weak smile, as if unaware that her own magic nearly killed her just now. ¡°It would help,¡± she said, ¡°if you revealed what you¡¯re trying.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t trouble yourself,¡± Jordan said, stroking her hair. ¡°Focus on strength. Promise me, you¡¯ll live on. And I promise I will find the cure. The solution is right on our palms.¡±


    Alyce stared at him. Each response took her seconds, if not minutes to process. ¡°You¡¯re not onto something bad, are you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Jordan said. ¡°Of course not.¡±


    ¡°You were never a good liar, Jord.¡±


    ¡°Maybe a little bit of bad,¡± Jordan admitted. ¡°No more than necessary. Have the doctors treated you well?¡±


    She took a deep breath. ¡°It hurts, Love. It hurts. It¡¯s like my mana chords are filled with slime.¡± Her eyes lost focus, staring somewhere at the ceiling. Her consciousness wavered.


    Alyce closed her eyes and didn¡¯t open them. Her breath was stable for now. She fell asleep. No need for alarm. Not that Jordan could have done anything regardless.


    He felt at her chords, as if testing the extent of an awakener¡¯s Corruption. Alyce¡¯s chords were long and active as ever. Too active. Her body filled unhealthy amounts of mana, chords clogged to the point of paralysis. Her heart only pumped more magic. She was way past the first symptoms of mana sickness.


    ¡°Her right leg is about to clog,¡± the doctor said. ¡°That was the last I can dispel from this location. The needle is to be relocated closer to the heart.¡±


    ¡°What of her limbs?¡± Jordan asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid her legs will die,¡± the doctor said. ¡°Amputation will be required, lest the dead limb kills her before mana will.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Jordan whispered. ¡°Anything for her to live.¡±


    The doctor hesitated. He looked away, then turned back to Jord and said, ¡°She¡¯s got a month at best.¡±


    Jordan felt a part of him die at the words. A month? In a month they were supposed to achieve absolute control of mana?


    He¡¯d journeyed so long to achieve a future with Alyce. From the moment they met at the Xastur¡¯s courthouse to the day Alyce insisted Jord become her teacher¡ªfor five years, they had found every excuse to spend time together, manipulating every intention of the King simply to meet at the wrong hours of the day¡ªto the moment they were caught in the act, and then to their calculated escape.


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    Alyce was all he ever asked for. Why couldn¡¯t he just have her?


    ¡°Moving the needle¡¯s location closer to the heart can only prolong this so long,¡± the doctor continued. ¡°More clogs will form. Her pain will increase. Soon enough, there will be nothing more to amputate.¡±


    Jordan bit the inside of his cheek to stop emotions from escaping. He sat on the visitor¡¯s stool and leaned his face on both palms. Akona, dear Goddess. I prayed every night. I stayed devoted. I followed every principle. And this is how you reward me!


    Mana fucking sickness. The disease was so rare that most generations wouldn¡¯t even consider a solution. There was nobody to cure; why would they work on a fix? And if one of their peers happened to be the unlucky, the really unlucky, mage who caught the disease, friends mourned, and the mage was killed off.


    The disease hijacked one¡¯s mana chords. Even the best of mages were helpless to the Corruption¡¯s effects when their mana chords clogged up through a deformation in their own mana. Alyce was unable to release her magic despite her flawless understanding of mana control. It was only a matter of time before her mana chords would totally give up, when she¡¯d run out of will to keep mana from destroying her head.


    Pregnant women catching the disease were said to have had it even worse. Thank the Moons Alyce hadn¡¯t caught his seed. She would be dead already.


    With absolute control of mana¡­ Jordan thought. If Azetoth¡¯s promise is true. We could free her chords of mana. Stop her core from producing. Take her powers away. Maybe, if just¡ª


    A knock came on the door. Jordan lifted his head, and the doctor opened the door. A servant of the cult stepped in. ¡°The boss is back. He asks for Jordan Feryah.¡±


    ***


    Azetoth came home wounded. In a state Jordan had never seen before.


    Blood ran down to his robes from a slice through the left side of his face. Nothing magic couldn¡¯t fix, but utter mana exhaustion was visible from his step alone. The monster that was Azetoth had been wounded to this state.


    ¡°The Queen Pope proved quite the workout,¡± Azetoth said with a grin as he sat down on the nearest seat¡ªa cushioned blackwood rocking chair left behind by the mansion¡¯s old owners. Blood dripped from a soaked part of his sleeve, onto the armrest of the chair.


    The parlor and the estate around it were¡ªcontrary to the cult¡¯s usual tendencies¡ªin full ownership of Azetoth¡¯s false identity. The cult had paid honest money for a slightly more permanent home base amongst the aristocracy of the capital city, Vulusen. Azetoth kept a full team of false servants and officials to cast the image of a real noble family over the cultist base.


    As a result, the mansion was treated like a true living space, kept clean and adorned. Chandelier lit, the furniture of the parlor followed the latest Krose trends. Lacquered blackwood was used wherever possible, from tables to picture frames. The wood was black as night, color instead provided with silver web embedded into carving patterns. And to make sure the parlor wasn¡¯t too simplistic in its lavishness, thick and reflective silver curtains loomed over the tall windows.


    ¡°Turns out,¡± Azetoth continued, ¡°The Pope is not only an expert in the art of magic, but she¡¯s a blademaster as well. I underestimated her.¡±


    ¡°You failed, then?¡± Jordan asked.


    ¡°I did,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°I thought I sneaked past every sentry unspotted, all the way to the Queen Pope¡¯s chambers. I thought I had her surprised. But it was me who walked into a trap. I could not have subdued the situation without killing her, not after the initial attempt failed.¡±


    Jordan struggled to find words. He wasn¡¯t sure if he felt bad for Azetoth, or if he was happy for the Pope. She was one lucky woman, surviving an attack from this monster. If only she had managed to cut slightly deeper into Azetoth¡¯s face. The world wouldn¡¯t have cried.


    Yet, Jordan was already pressed for time. A month was all they had, and they were far from the final steps of the plan. They could not afford this failure.


    ¡°The plan¡¯s ruined now, is it?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°Your attack blew what remained of the cult¡¯s hidden presence. Won¡¯t be long before every follower of the Pope comes after us. The royals will hear of the attack.¡±


    ¡°You presume I shouted my name and the location of my home during my attempt?¡± Azetoth grinned. ¡°No, Jord, the Pope can guess the cult was behind this, but not much more. Her guards will receive a scolding and a few nightmares, and that¡¯s that. The pope wouldn¡¯t dare let an infiltration of her temple go public. Her prided defenses would be shamed out of order.¡±


    ¡°We failed in capturing Hallowed chords,¡± Jordan said. ¡°Alyce runs out of time.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got more time than you think,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°If we are to achieve Godhood, Alyce¡¯s pumping heart is all we require to restore her body.¡±


    Jordan frowned. ¡°Not one of your promises has been kept.¡± After a pause, he added, ¡°Master.¡±


    Azetoth grinned. ¡°I will attempt the Pope again before tomorrow. Nobody expects a wounded assassin to come back the same night. If that fails, I¡¯ll have to snatch Cindra from the Dragon Wall.¡±


    And how will Hallowed chords restore Alyce? Jordan thought. You create another weapon. A ¡°proof of concept?¡± Another crime committed on our names?


    ¡°I have orders for you, too,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°Rigrith has offered a report of unusual business in the city of Vol¨¦s. Apparently, a new wielder of Hallowed chords has awakened.¡±


    Jordan lifted his head.


    ¡°A dangerous wielder,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°Just the type we need. The man single-handedly burned down every operation I created in Vol¨¦s.¡±


    ¡°A man with Hallowed chords has awakened?¡± Jordan asked.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Azetoth said. ¡°And in fact, the man is currently searching for a teacher. I figured I know just the man for the job.¡±

 17: Wounds

    The sun was wrong. And apparently, so was I.


    The sad little red disk in the sky peered through an opening in the wagon¡¯s tarp-like curtains, casting a slice of sunlight directly onto my cramped seat between barrels and cargo. The sun¡¯s mild blare lit my miserable face. I was too tired to move seats.


    The city landscape of Vol¨¦s had left us however many hours ago, replaced with insultingly thriving plains and grassy hilltops. Lone farms stood here and there, luscious with grains never seen on earth. How the sun could support such vegetation was a mystery to me, but I didn¡¯t exactly care to ask for an answer. The crops grew taller than my hunched-up posture, and I knew I wasn¡¯t about to get up any time soon.


    Our ride, though bumpy and cramped amongst barrels, was luxurious in its own right. I had wheels under my ass, saving me from the effort of walking. We slowly crept away from the city and my crimes.


    Towards a new city with new crimes.


    ¡°Nothing but farms surrounding downtown,¡¯¡± Em had said. Somehow, I remembered her words with clarity. Em and Ry were all my mind wished to brood on. I could picture their smiles, their curses, their determination to help a total stranger like me.


    And of course, their scorched bodies.


    Why do I care? I asked myself. I barely knew the two for half a day. Hell, if not for Darko¡¯s letter, Ry would have thrown me over the border. The two were rude just as much as they were nice.


    Their deaths couldn¡¯t be deemed my fault. The cult was far more guilty than I would ever be.


    Why, then, did I want nothing more than to turn back time to offer myself for torture just to save them?


    I continued staring at the walls of our wagon. I knew I must have looked like my brain had been spooked out of operation. Pretending to look proper was too much effort.


    Remy, currently alone in the wagon with me, had given up on small talk by the third time I offered a lackluster answer. She stayed quiet but occasionally sent concerned glances my way. I tried my best to pretend she and her judgeful eyes didn¡¯t exist.


    I must have looked extra miserable under sunlight, however, as Remy faced me. ¡°May I check your chords again?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s, uh, I doubt the Corruption has grown, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to check.¡±


    I offered my palm, my eyes pointing somewhere in the distance.


    Remy gave me a weak smile before examining my hands. Her touch was gentler than the Priest Keeper¡¯s, though still awfully prying.


    She released me after a short checkup. ¡°All perfect for now. You exhausted your mana chords. That¡¯s both good and bad. Good, because without mana in your body, the Corruption can¡¯t run rampant. You¡¯ve proven mana can be dissipated from your body. Bad, because without mana in your chords, you can¡¯t practice your channeling. You need rest before practice can start.¡±


    I offered half a nod in response. Rest I would gladly take.


    Remy bit her lip, looking down at me with concerned eyes. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± she said. ¡°I, um¡­ Have I done something wrong? You look distant.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s me who did something wrong.¡±


    ¡°What did you do?¡±


    Isn¡¯t it obvious? I thought. Got kidnapped. Burned a church. Killed my friends.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m just tired. I''ll get up. Eventually.¡±


    ***


    Darko trailed the ride from a quarter mile behind. He stood atop a hillock slightly off path, watching for pursuers or for anything else that enjoyed munching on carriage wheels. A merchant passed them here and there. Farmers were out fighting pests, yelling at their children. All normal stuff for a midday trade route. No bandits, and thankfully no royalty.


    The driver and his horses had accepted bribery for the escape easily enough. Technically, Darko had committed a criminal offense. He was obliged to attend questioning by King Xastur¡¯s law¡ªanyone involved in a serious crime was forced to help investigators however they could. Daphine would undoubtedly be pissed with Darko¡¯s lack of cooperation.


    The escape didn¡¯t put Darko in guillotine trouble, but it placed him on a list of annoyances at the very least. Nothing too serious. What he was concerned about was the waste of time that was a royal interrogation.


    Darko headed back towards the dirt path, signaling for Shena and Rakash to do the same. They abandoned their watch on the opposite side of the road and joined him.


    ¡°We should be safe,¡± Darko said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like the royals followed. And I don¡¯t recall this path having a reputation for thievery.¡±


    Shena nodded, though didn¡¯t look too enthusiastic. ¡°Will they come looking?¡±


    ¡°They will,¡± Darko said. ¡°But I doubt we are a priority. We¡¯re gaining a reputation as mysterious heroes achieving mysterious deeds. The Krose hold a soft spot for exaggerations. The royals will offer us some slack. As long as we don¡¯t directly cause a disaster.¡±


    ¡°Burning a church wasn¡¯t a disaster?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°Hundreds of witnesses saw us extinguish the flames,¡± Darko said. ¡°Any investigation at all will show that the church was hijacked by cultists. It¡¯s clear we aren¡¯t the cause of this. Not the main cause, at least. Our escape can be explained if we have to. It¡¯s a true excuse that we are in a hurry. The royal audience is supposed to be held forty hours from now.¡±


    They trotted after the carriage, having to walk faster than was comfortable. Any slower, and they¡¯d have to run to catch up.


    ¡°Still, I¡¯m surprised,¡± Darko said. ¡°I know you said Gorthorns were your friends, but I¡¯m surprised to see proof. We¡¯re glad to have you, Rakash.¡±


    ¡°Darko, the Wyvern Slayer,¡± Rakash said. Her enunciation was superb, nothing like the brutish rumors claimed. Gorthorns truly were misinterpreted by this country as a whole. ¡°I hear you¡¯ve taken good care of my friend, Shena. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°And I thank your tribe for raising such a lovely lady,¡± Darko said. Before Shena¡¯s scowl could evolve, he added, ¡°You¡¯ve turned her into a great fighter.¡±


    ¡°You may thank my mother,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I am famous as the jibe of my tribe. Shena here has grown resistant to my taint.¡±


    Darko laughed. ¡°I believe Shena has been tainted from the moment she joined.¡±


    ¡°Can we stop with the flattery?¡± Shena said. ¡°Nine Archpriests still run loose. Azetoth still lives with his head intact. Rakash¡¯s tribe lies who knows where. What of our plans, Darko? You¡¯ve remained quiet long enough. Isn¡¯t it time you revealed how your grand plan relates to all this? Do you have a plan at all?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll stop by the Guild Post to feed the horses and possibly ourselves,¡± Darko said. ¡°The carriage should arrive in four hours. We¡¯ll see if Hastmire has anything interesting for us. Some hours after that and we¡¯ll depart for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Obviously our path leads to Arkber,¡± Shena said. ¡°Don¡¯t treat me like a child asking when we¡¯ll arrive. What about the real problems we face? The cult? The Archpriests? Jordan Feryah? Does your plan include even the slightest solutions on how we¡¯re going to cut Azetoth¡¯s head off?¡±


    ¡°I generally like to use my sword for cutting heads,¡± Darko said. ¡°Humanity has yet to invent a better solution.¡±


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    Shena¡¯s expression looked as if she wished to turn back time to interrupt his parents¡¯ fun time. ¡°Darko¡­ Rakash¡¯s people are possibly enslaved. They suffer, while the leader I vowed to follow laughs at failing plans. Please get serious before I offer the Gorthorns a courtesy by blasting your head off.¡±


    ¡°The no-breed swordsman speaks truth,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Glyphswords are effective indeed.¡±


    Shena frowned. ¡°And you are the jibe indeed.¡±


    ¡°I apologize,¡± Darko said with a smile. ¡°Shena, you¡¯re wrong on one part. Our plans certainly aren¡¯t failing. The urn fills with each cultist soul we¡¯ve gathered. We are well on pace for launching the attack. No adjustments need to be made.¡±


    ¡°We nearly lost to the tenth Archpriest,¡± Shena said. ¡°The weakest of the officials. The four of us could face Azetoth three to one, and he¡¯d swipe us in a flash.¡±


    ¡°But we succeeded,¡± Darko said. ¡°And we gained a whole bunch of reputation along the way. Exactly as the plan requires. The Prince will see this as a success.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± Shena said. ¡°If we successfully convince royalty to join us, a task which is already difficult enough after our questionable criminal record, our team grows from an idiot and two mediocre mages into two idiots and two mediocre mages. You and Prince Vitek could be equipped with Moonblades on both hands, and their power would only boost your overconfidence.¡±


    ¡°Shena,¡± Darko said. ¡°For all the complaints my humor receives, you sure are eager to toss jokes.¡±


    ¡°I am not joking.¡± Shena paused and licked her lips. ¡°I¡¯m worried. Your plan was overly enthusiastic when you proposed it. And the cult has only grown since.¡±


    ¡°We progress exactly as I have intended to,¡± Darko said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter how many henchmen Azetoth hires. Our plans stay the same. Cause chaos and kill the boss while he¡¯s distracted. I¡¯m certain the King will assign his Prince to the plan I am going to propose.¡±


    Shena hesitated. ¡°You saw that magic-stealer contraption. What if they have more?¡±


    ¡°We defeated it, did we not?¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ll do so again. We know what¡¯s coming.¡±


    Shena didn¡¯t look convinced. ¡°Fine. I will trust your word. But what about Cillian?¡±


    ¡°This,¡± Darko said, ¡°is the one part of our plans I haven¡¯t yet found a solution to.¡±


    ¡°Abandoning him is not an option, especially not with the cult looking for him,¡± Shena said. ¡°Searching for a non-evil teacher is out of the question. Cillian would fall to the Corruption before you catch the slightest trace of an honest teacher. The houses are always available, but I know none of us like that option. Remy won¡¯t have that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll come up with something,¡± Darko said. ¡°For now, our goal is to get the man back to his feet. As he is now, we could send him to his funeral, and neither Cill nor the gravedigger would bat an eye. Rakash. I heard you are a healer. Is there anything you can do to soothe his exhaustion?¡±


    ¡°Magic has done all it can to help,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Exhaustion no longer reaps him. It is different problems clouding his head.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Darko asked. ¡°He is obviously exhausted.¡±


    ¡°Cillian bears wounds no healer can touch,¡± Rakash said. ¡°What happened in the church was¡ª¡± She paused. ¡°¡ªhorror. That is the word.¡±


    Darko frowned. He¡¯d heard of this rare phenomenon before. When warriors face a situation so cruel, so utterly terrifying that the events replay in their heads for the end of time. During the night, during the most relaxing of parties, all they could see was their past, as if their fight had never ended, trapping them in an endless moping fit. The same couldn¡¯t have happened to Cillian, right?


    ¡°Will he recover?¡± Darko asked.


    ¡°He stays haunted,¡± Rakash said. ¡°For how long is a battle he is to endure. I sense a strong will in that man. He is not one to give up.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a cure?¡± Darko asked.


    ¡°Not in physical form.¡± Rakash stared ahead at their moving carriage. ¡°But there are remedies. I suspect he requires encouragement, to remind him that not all has been lost.¡±


    ¡°He needs to get his wits back,¡± Darko said. ¡°A mage will not survive a week in the state Cill is in, no matter which path he chooses. We have to get him out of the moping fit one way or another. Rakash? Do you have any ideas?¡±


    ¡°I will talk to him,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Though I do not make promises.¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°Thank you, Rakash. The Krose require more people like you.¡±


    Rakash smiled. ¡°Your kind seems to disagree. But I thank you for the hospitality.¡±


    ¡°What of the Corruption?¡± Shena asked. ¡°No amount of motherly love will fix the danger he¡¯s about to endure.¡±


    ¡°The Corruption will not be an issue,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Three capable mages surround his position. We together will not have an issue keeping his mana at bay.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not so simple amongst the Krose,¡± Shena said. ¡°We lack a license.¡±


    ¡°My existence alone is a crime according to the toddler running this country,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I say Xastur¡¯s laws hold less value than the promises of a two-year-old child.¡±


    Shena bit her lip. ¡°You¡­ aren¡¯t wrong.¡±


    ¡°Cillian is more capable than he lets out,¡± Rakash said. ¡°The three of us will have a simple time. I sensed no disruptions in his mana during our stay at the cells.¡±


    ¡°He woke up from the awakener¡¯s coma yesterday,¡± Shena said. ¡°The Corruption will pick up. It always does.¡±


    ¡°We will see,¡± Rakash said. ¡°And we will hope.¡±


    The walk continued in silence under the cool breeze of the slowly brightening sky. The time was three hours before noon, around the time the sky picked up in brightness. Within an hour, the three moons orbiting the sun would shine brighter than the sun itself. Daylight moons, they were called. The Gods¡¯ nourishment to make up for the failed sun¡ªso claimed the followers of Akona.


    The southern part of the country was blessed with clear moonlight, and had little to no natural disruptions (other than the risk of the Dragon Wall nearby). The country folk were devoted to their tasks and were rewarded with healthy land.


    ¡°I say we only have one option,¡± Shena said. ¡°We keep him. Cillian is a part of the team now. This is the only conclusion to our problems. Illegal as it is.¡±


    Darko sighed inside his head. A part of him had hoped Shena wouldn¡¯t find this conclusion. ¡°Cill will be a hindrance to our operations.¡±


    ¡°For the upcoming months, perhaps,¡± Shena said. ¡°Afterward, if he manages to restore his head and train his magic, he¡¯ll become the strongest mage we¡¯ve ever worked with. You saw his potential. Assuming the story holds no lies, and I don¡¯t doubt Rakash as a witness, he burned a Black Plate by himself. Burned.¡±


    ¡°Months is already more time than we have,¡± Darko said. ¡°And that could easily turn to years. We lack the time to train him. Assuming he accepts our training at all. My guidance nearly got him killed already.¡±


    ¡°At least offer him the chance,¡± Shena said. ¡°If he declines, he¡¯s free to join the Houses.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple,¡± Darko said. ¡°By adding Cill, we¡¯d have a beginner to worry about on top of our already lacking members. Would you trust the man to shield your back? Would you trust him to protect himself during a battle? For all the benefits he¡¯d offer as a secret weapon, he¡¯ll cause double the headaches being trained and protected.¡±


    ¡°I say we keep him regardless,¡± Shena said. ¡°His potential is too good to pass up.¡±


    ¡°Do you say this because you want to save him from his fate, or because you truly believe he¡¯s going to pull his weight?¡±


    ¡°I say this because I doubt our chances if we don¡¯t use his help. Training him may postpone our plans, but his powers certainly won¡¯t hold us back.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Darko said. ¡°And how in the name of Carillia¡¯s dozen Moons will we explain his presence to the royals? Our audience is being held two days from now.¡±


    Shena thought for a second. ¡°We¡¯ll forge Remy a license. Claim that Cillian is her honest responsibility. We¡¯ll trick the royals.¡±


    ¡°Remy¡¯s background is too easy to check, even if we find a proficient forger in the time we have,¡± Darko said. ¡°Not to mention, anyone sensible would share the exact arguments as I. This is not a job where awakeners are taught. Makes us seem unprofessional. And if we do bring him along, we¡¯ll qualify as exactly that.¡±


    ¡°Then, if you don¡¯t have any ideas, I fear Cillian¡¯s future will be tied to slavery,¡± Shena said. ¡°If we truly can¡¯t take him, we need to get rid of him. This would cause its own problems.¡±


    Darko took a deep breath. Damn his conscience for wishing good on people. ¡°There is one way we could make use of Cill for this particular plan. It requires some cooperation from his side, however. And a whole bunch of lies. The dangerous kind of lies.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re good with those,¡± Shena said.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m being persuaded to criminality by my own damn mages.¡±


    ¡°A mage¡¯s refusal to be placed into slavery is considered a crime,¡± Shena said. ¡°If this is the law we are breaking, we should have no qualms helping Cillian.¡±


    ¡°We would have to break the law as blatantly as crimes go, lying straight to the faces of the most powerful legislators,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯m positive I could get him through. I could even make use of him. But this does not change the fact that getting caught would put us all on the forefront of the Mages¡¯ Association¡¯s most wanted suspects.¡±


    ¡°If you are positive in our success, I believe this to be a risk we must take,¡± Shena said. ¡°Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Darko sighed. ¡°I agree that training him wouldn¡¯t be a total loss. And Remy would be satisfied.¡± Crazy how excited mages get taking on the responsibility of curing a possible manic mage.


    ¡°We will give him a chance, then?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°Looks like you girls will force me regardless,¡± Darko said. ¡°But I am inclined to agree. I will offer him the choice.¡±


    Shena nodded. ¡°And actually give him a chance. We¡¯ll get nowhere if you drown him with threats to convince him that slavery is preferable.¡±


    ¡°I could convince Cerdri himself to join the party if he was still alive,¡± Darko said. ¡°Just watch. I¡¯ll show you how it¡¯s done.¡±


    Although, slavery would be a preferable fate.

 18: System

    ¡°Fireball,¡± Shiela¡¯s system read, showing her written description of the spell. ¡°The bread and butter of every mage¡¯s arsenal. The fireball is inter-dimensionally the most popular choice of all offensive spells. Its effectiveness and power are hard to beat for a spell so simple to cast. I thought it was only natural for the fireball to be your starting spell.¡±


    The wagon rolled over thumps and puddles of mud, each coming with their distinct uncomfortable notions. A particularly bad mud swamp lay ahead, deep enough to bring pause to the horses. Their protest, however, was dissuaded with curses from the driver, whose burly face and large nose could dissuade even a bear from attacking. We were on again.


    For the last fifteen minutes, I had distracted myself by reading through Shiela¡¯s system. I was still brain-numbingly afraid of its powers. The keywords were like poison to my brain, and the possibility of accidentally firing another fireball kept my mouth at bay. Yet, the anger I felt towards Shiela and her system offered relief from the less pleasant daydreams clouding my head.


    ¡°Status,¡± I whispered. Remy, on watch by the opposite end of the wagon, heard me whispering to myself. She sent me a concerned glance. I ignored it. The keyword put me back at the ¡°menu screen.¡±


    [Cillian Bermeyer]


    [Level Six]


    [Beginner mage]


    [Abilities: Fireball (Level three), Carillia¡¯s assistance, Arcane Projectile, Arcane Discharge, Arcane Snare, Flame Resistance]


    My massacre at the church had earned me five whole level-ups. My fireballs were now even more powerful, more deadly. By what definition was the fireball a simple spell? It had burned a whole church at level one. Burned alive fighters far more powerful than me. I could only imagine what it was capable of at level three.


    Curse that damn Goddess and her lying spells. Why had Shiela ever thought this was a good idea? To offer an idiot like me the power to cast deadly fireballs. Had Shiela not heard of the term, ¡°with power comes responsibility?¡± In whose mind was I responsible enough to cast deadly magic?


    I read the descriptions for the new spells, though I doubted I would ever dare free their powers out to the world. Arcane magic seemed like the most ridiculous, most destructive weapon I could have imagined. To combo ¡°Arcane Snare¡± with ¡°Arcane Discharge¡± would kill as certainly as a machine gun on Earth.


    And what was up with that one spell? ¡°Carillia¡¯s assistance.¡± The spell that failed me. I opened its description.


    My good friend and the God of this planet, Carillia, has agreed to help you in tough situations. He can be a bit grumpy, and he won¡¯t help if he deems the situation unworthy of his assistance. But don¡¯t hesitate to call for his help if you feel it necessary.


    Lying, useless fucking spell. Carillia, this excuse of a God, had deemed my situation unworthy? Saving Ry and Em and killing the cultists was simply unworthy?


    I hated this. There was only one fireball I wished to cast, and that would be aimed directly at Shiela¡¯s head. Why had she lied to me? War-free world, my ass. Why did I have to agree to this?


    To hell with leveling up. I was not a mage. The incident at the church had proven as much. My attempts at the profession had already killed one young and bright soul, and indirectly another.


    Rakash must have hated me for that. She hadn¡¯t talked to me since.


    My brooding thoughts were interrupted by a thump at the back of the carriage. I flinched, my thoughts hopping back to reality. A red-haired acrobat jumped into the still-moving carriage. Shena and Rakash followed, though both more gracefully.


    ¡°Cill,¡± Darko called with a grin. ¡°Congratulations! You have earned yourself a spot under my leadership!¡±


    I froze.


    ¡°The benefits go as follows,¡± Darko said. ¡°You will be offered protection from Azetoth¡¯s junkies and from the royals, and from any other sniffer who might wish to have a word with you. And I do promise your name is on at least one wanted list, after what happened at the church.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fed and offered a place to sleep and all that. You know, problems of living. We aren¡¯t exactly lavish. You might wish you were dead on some days, but we¡¯ll keep you alive. And of course, my mages will make sure your Corruption is quelled. We have no licenses; know that choosing to learn under us is technically a criminal offense.¡±


    Remy stood up, a surprised look on her face.


    ¡°You are free to leave at any moment,¡± Darko said. ¡°I do not hold my members on leashes. But were you to leave, expect no further protection from me or my members. Sounds good?¡±


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    Shena¡¯s frown answered before I could as much as attempt to conjure a response. ¡°Darko¡­¡± she said. ¡°This better not be the display you were bragging about.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Darko asked. ¡°I got all the points across. What do you say, Cill? Do you wish to join my ranks?¡±


    I licked my lips, struggling to make eye contact. ¡°Um¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Darko asked. ¡°We are in a private wagon. No need to whisper.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I should join¡­¡± I uttered out.


    Darko lifted his eyebrows. ¡°And why is that?¡±


    Do you want an honest answer? I wished to ask. I was ready to quit my profession as a mage. I didn¡¯t want to shoot a single more fireball, and I never wanted to see a cultist of Azetoth ever again. I was done playing Shiela¡¯s apostle. Her system was a cruel punishment to not only me but to anyone unlucky enough to call me a companion.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s wise for me to join,¡± I said. I glanced at Rakash. ¡°I mean¡­ You don¡¯t want me in the team.¡±


    Darko walked directly in front of me. ¡°Look, Cill. You clearly aren¡¯t knowledgeable enough to decide on what¡¯s wise and what¡¯s not. Are you aware of your options?¡±


    I bit my lip and looked away.


    ¡°If you aren¡¯t coming with us, we¡¯re sending you to the nobles,¡± Darko said. ¡°You¡¯d be trained and saved from the Corruption, for the price of tying yourself to the nobility¡¯s power games through a magically sealed slave contract. The type that physically blocks certain decisions from being made. Your respective owners would then use your powers however they wish.¡±


    ¡°Would I be sent on missions?¡± I asked. ¡°To kill with my magic?¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°Very likely. Any glory you gain from your deeds will be claimed by the House. Any loot you snatch will be claimed by the House. The same goes for failures, but you don¡¯t need to bet your dreams that the slightest of missteps earns a punishment far greater than any reward you will ever receive.


    ¡°Some Houses offer luxuries to their more well-behaved and successful mages, treating them as any member. Ultimately, the master has the final say in every decision, and there are no laws preventing anything short of torture as punishment for a mage¡¯s misdemeanor. If nothing else, your hopes of freedom are none with the nobles.¡±


    He gave me a serious look. ¡°If instead you wish to join us, the slave contract will be avoided. You would be trained illegally under my mages to eventually become what the nobles call ¡®escapees.¡¯ A learned mage who knows to control the Corruption, and thus is no longer liable to seek a teacher. The nobles would lose their excuse to enslave you for their services, and you would keep your freedom.


    ¡°Do you see why I wished to send you to an illegal teacher? Why Remy and Shena are so eager to help you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m thankful for the opportunity¡­¡± I said half-heartedly. ¡°I just¡­ I don¡¯t think I want to join. I¡¯m done with this mage adventuring stuff.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Darko asked. ¡°You¡¯d rather go to the nobles?¡±


    I thought for a second. ¡°No. I don¡¯t want the nobles. I don¡¯t want either option. You should just toss me in a ditch. I¡¯m not worth the effort.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Darko asked, frown deepening.


    ¡°I¡¯m not cut out to be a mage,¡± I said. ¡°No amount of training will turn me into one. Just leave me off somewhere, and I¡¯ll wander off¡­¡±


    ¡°The conversation we have is not about turning you into a fighting mage,¡± Darko said. ¡°It is about quelling your Corruption. Do you realize that your magic is making you mad as we speak?¡±


    I puffed through my nose. ¡°If I have to go mad, I¡¯ll go mad. I will not touch magic again.¡±


    Darko looked as if he wanted to punch sense into me. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±


    ¡°What does it matter to you if I go mad?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m already halfway insane.¡±


    I regretted the remark immediately. Darko¡¯s hand reached for my neck. He grabbed me from the collar of my shirt, lifting me up. ¡°You fucking headless idiot! Do you hear what you¡¯re saying?¡±


    My eyes shot wide. I flailed with my legs, attempting to get back on the ground, failing. ¡°Please!¡± I said. ¡°My shirt. It¡¯ll rip!¡±


    Darko frowned a moment longer, then let me go. My shirt survived intact.


    ¡°Reckless idiot,¡± Darko said. ¡°Why do you think the Mages¡¯ Association exists to hunt down rogue mages? Why do you think horror stories of Soulstealer Stella scare mothers just as much as the children the tales are told to? Do you truly understand the implications of ignoring the Corruption?¡±


    A lump was forming in my throat. Nobody was taking my side. Remy watched from the side with saddened eyes, as if I was some poor puppy she had to punish. Rakash idly listened, while Shena observed the situation, visibly concerned.


    ¡°The state of your head is not what people care about,¡± Darko said. ¡°What I¡¯m truly terrified of is the possibility of seeing you go rogue. To see your uncontrolled magic take over your logic, to have you attack everything in sight. Do you want that? Do you truly wish to become an aimless murderer because you were too afraid to fucking learn?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said, sniffling away tears. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I could drop you off for field work,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯d do great for a few days. Within a week, your peers will find you acting strange. They¡¯ll find you strangling animals, ruining crops, breaking furniture. And if they don¡¯t send you to the Houses there and then, you¡¯ll likely kill them, too, through the Corruption¡¯s taint. Afterward, you¡¯ll be hunted to death by the Mages¡¯ Association. They¡¯ll deem you a rogue, untrained, and insane mage.¡±


    Why? I thought. Why, why, why! Why this world!


    ¡°Do you see why I asked you to join us now?¡± Darko asked.


    I breathed in, trying to calm myself. I managed to respond with a nod.


    Darko stared directly into my wavering eyes, looking as serious as ever. ¡°I offer you three options. Consider that a luxury; most mages only get one. First, the invitation to join us still remains. You will be trained under the girls, mainly under Remy. You will be treated as an equal in my team, though we expect cooperation and full commitment to learning.


    ¡°The second option is to join the Houses, to be taught by noble teachers. If you don¡¯t trust us to teach you, which is a decision I will respect, you will be sent to a true licensed teacher. One who will make sure, with experience, that you will not go mad.¡±


    I licked my lips. ¡°And the third?¡±


    ¡°If you still refuse to get yourself taught by a teacher¡­¡± Darko placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, lifting it just enough for the blade to show. ¡°I have no choice but to end the Corruption right here right now.¡±

 19: Fantastic Future

    I could not move a muscle, faced with Darko¡¯s sword. The merest sight of its blade was enough to turn my brain into mush. Was I being threatened? Holy hell.


    ¡°Darko,¡± Remy asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit much?¡±


    Darko let the sword back into its sheath. ¡°The third is the last of our options. I would rather not resort to killing you, Cill.¡±


    I took a breath, brain filled with emergency chemicals.


    ¡°Ease up, Cill,¡± Remy said, offering me a smile. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of you, I promise. Quelling the Corruption is difficult, but it¡¯s not as scary as Darko made it out to be.¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°Then, I will repeat my question. Cill, do you wish to join me?¡±


    My mouth twitched in a wordless attempt to convince someone of something. My eyes pointed at Darko¡¯s waist, afraid to rise further. A poor negotiation strategy, but I didn¡¯t exactly have the energy for proper posture. Luckily, Darko gave me plenty of time to figure out my thoughts.


    ¡°What will you want from me if I join?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sharp and suspicious, eh?¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯m sure Remy would train you from the kindness of her heart if she so could. But you are correct. The three of us chase a mission. One that we will not abandon, whether you hold us back or not. Azetoth will die by our hands. I will obviously not tie you to a slave contract. But in return for your safekeeping, I expect your best contribution. You will, unfortunately, have to help us however you can.¡±


    ¡°Will I have to fight?¡±


    ¡°In one way or another,¡± Darko said. ¡°If it helps you feel better, I promise this. I will not send you on missions alone, nor will the team rely on your skills. You¡¯ll support our members the best you can, and we¡¯ll protect you when you fail. I won¡¯t force you into murdering a human. We fight cultists and monsters, and nothing else.¡±


    I bit my lip, eyes turning towards the floor.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so gloomy, Cill,¡± Remy said. ¡°We are mages. We fight from the backlines, away from the action. I¡¯ll protect you. That¡¯s a promise. The same goes for Shena.¡±


    Shena nodded.


    ¡°Am I really free to leave whenever I wish?¡± I asked.


    ¡°As I said, I don¡¯t hold my members on leashes,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯ll be bitter if you sign up as a member of the Cult right as we¡¯ve trained you, but Moons, I don¡¯t think I have the right to complain after what my advice led you to in Vol¨¦s. If you truly wish to leave after the Corruption is quelled, I give the permission. Even if I do ask you to stay.¡±


    Curse you, Shiela, I thought, Curse you and your damn reincarnation.


    ¡°Then¡­ I¡¯m in, I guess,¡± I muttered at the floor.


    Darko stared down at me. ¡°Cill. Look at me.¡±


    Hesitantly, I raised my head. I looked into Darko¡¯s eyes. He made no gestures¡ªsimply stared at me for an uncomfortably long time, as if waiting for something.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m in?¡± I said.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Darko asked. ¡°I can¡¯t hear you?¡±


    ¡°I accept the invitation,¡± I said.


    ¡°Do you really?¡± Darko asked, giving me an exaggerated grin. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I heard that right.¡±


    You asshole! I thought, having to stop anger from building. I knew exactly what this fucker was up to. My therapists had used the same damn strategy, and I hated it just as much back then. Darko required a loud and confident answer. As if screaming an oath would make me more invested in joining.


    ¡°I¡¯ll join your goddamn team!¡± I said, forming the closest resemblance to a frown my face could show. ¡°Can we stop now?¡±


    Darko and Remy grinned. ¡°Perfect,¡± Darko said. ¡°Welcome to the team, Cill. We¡¯re glad to have you.¡±


    My brain could only interpret that as a lie. I couldn¡¯t imagine a world where any group would be eager to have someone as miserable as I was. ¡°Thanks for having me,¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the speech, Cill. I hope you saw why it was necessary.¡± Darko smiled.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, already with a bad taste in my mouth.


    ¡°Your training with Remy will start by the end of today,¡± Darko said. ¡°Before I can grant you the title of member, however, I have one small request. A test, if you will.¡±


    I gulped.


    Darko opened the lid to one of the cargo casks. ¡°I don¡¯t usually order my people against their will. I have but one order that I won¡¯t see refused.¡±


    From the barrel, he pulled out a dry, rock-hard piece of bread, then shoved it into my arms along with a cup of water. ¡°Eat,¡± was all he said.


    I inspected the bread for five seconds before attempting to hand it back. ¡°I¡¯m not hungry, thanks¡­¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Darko said. ¡°You already refused one hot meal when we heated the pot. Moons know how many lunches you¡¯ve skipped before then. I¡¯ll stuff that bread down your throat if you¡¯re not going to chew.¡±


    A helpless pressure built up in my bones. Darko, this Shiela¡¯s damned saint! Was he really putting me to this? Would he really force me to eat, like I was some toddler?


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    The team stared me down as I forced a bite through the bread¡¯s hard shell. Beneath the surface, I discovered the most tasteless and dry texture I¡¯d ever eaten. I chewed and chewed, managing to swallow one bite only with the help of a steady flow of water. I was hungry; the bite made me aware of that.


    God fucking dammit, I thought. Why was I like this? Why did my brain wish to throw the bread at Darko¡¯s face and to argue still? The man was simply trying to feed me. I had to eat, whether I wanted to or not. If I ever wished to stand up again, Darko¡¯s advice was exactly what I needed to follow.


    That¡¯s what made following it so humiliating.


    ¡°Um,¡± I said. My face must have been red, the excuse of a bread in hand. If I had to eat something, it wouldn¡¯t be this. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have any soup left?¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°Shena, heat him a bowl.¡±


    Fifteen minutes later, I ate my first proper meal, delivered in the form of unseasoned vegetable slop.


    ***


    What followed was an honest wave of mixed emotions. Shame, disappointment, dejection. I half-heartedly scooped the remaining lines of slop glued to the edge of the bowl with my wooden spoon. The nutritional value left must have been worth less than atoms. I wasn¡¯t eating as much as I was wasting time, pretending to look busy.


    Was I always this damn miserable? If not for my panicked survival instinct kicking in from the sheer pressure of Darko¡¯s frown, I¡¯d still be starving myself, choosing to drown in my thoughts with absolutely no will to do anything at all.


    Shiela be damned, but Darko actually managed to force out a yes from me. I promised to join his stupid adventure.


    I had agreed to become a mage. A goddamned living weapon.


    I¡¯d have to train. I¡¯d have to hide from maniac cultists looking to taste my mana chords. I¡¯d likely have to kill some more. Toss more haphazard fireballs, hoping to God I didn¡¯t kill one of my friends.


    I had stopped scooping slop; at this point, I was just fiddling with the spoon. Do I even care? What if I just take his third option?


    ¡°Cill,¡± Darko said, having sensed that offering me more alone time could end in danger. ¡°You are allowed to ask for seconds. My warnings may have sounded harsh, but believe it or not, we are not in a prison wagon.¡±


    I handed back the bowl. ¡°No, thank you. One was enough.¡±


    Darko took the bowl with a smile. ¡°First mission completed. That marks you as a full member. Welcome abroad.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. I added some volume to my words in hopes of avoiding another scolding, though I still struggled to find my normal voice.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to organize a party, but unfortunately Shena refused to pack alcohol,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ll celebrate your arrival another day.¡±


    ¡°Alcohol is the last thing you two need,¡± Shena said.


    Darko let out a laugh. ¡°Right. And the second last thing we need is to talk plans and future. We¡¯ll have to do just that. Cill, I hope you at least know the name of the group we¡¯ve gotten you tangled with.¡±


    ¡°The cult of Azetoth,¡± I said.


    ¡°I also hope you understand you are not exactly a carefree citizen right now.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You intruded the cult¡¯s hideout,¡± Darko said. ¡°You burned their church. You killed one of their Black Plates. Expensive men, as clumsy as they are. You¡¯ve shown you¡¯ve got hefty mana chords, and the cult has been actively kidnapping young mages lately. They are looking for you, and they won¡¯t have a hard time. Your description and clothes stick out like a celibate Lashan caught in a Krose revel. I say we¡¯ve got at most three days before you¡¯re listed as the most wanted man in the cult¡¯s papers.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± I said. Rigrith, the bastard that ordered me for torture, would send people after me for sure. Assuming a convoy wasn¡¯t already marching my way.


    ¡°We are all wanted by the cult with bounties on our names,¡± Darko said. ¡°Last I checked, snatching me alive would earn the captor a hefty fifty gold marks. In my case, the bounty is actually a benefit. Locating cultists is not nearly as difficult when they¡¯re also looking to catch you. I¡¯m sure we can use your presence as a fantastic bait.¡±


    ¡°Darko, you aren¡¯t doing a great job reassuring my student,¡± Remy said with a frown.


    Darko laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. The next few days will be simpler jobs in preparation for the audience in Arkber. The team needs achievements more than anything. In this regard, the operation in Vol¨¦s was a huge success. We defeated an Archpriest with a royal witness. Afterward, Cillian revealed and destroyed a cultist operation all on his own, witnessed by practically the whole city.¡±


    ¡°That is to say, we are thankful,¡± Shena said. ¡°Without you, Cillian, we would have looked over the church entirely. Dozens more would have ended as victims.¡±


    I bit my lips and looked down. The team considered yesterday a success? The most terrifying, traumatic, and lossful day of my life was a success?


    Rakash seemed to have recovered from the events just fine. She leaned against one of the bonnet¡¯s thick support beams with a still expression, listening in, but not participating in the conversation. She wasn¡¯t exactly brimming with smiles, but she was constantly active, having barely spent fifteen minutes in silence to mourn. Was I just too weak?


    ¡°I¡¯m also sorry,¡± Darko said, lowering his head. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t exactly want to find the cultist operation. My intel on Jordan Feryah¡­ To call it misinformation is an understatement. I am truly sorry for what I led you to. We¡¯re all glad you are alive.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­¡± I said. ¡°You can forget it ever happened.¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°If there¡¯s any favor you need from me, I promise to deliver. For now, and I apologize again, I will thank you by commanding you around like an overly rude lieutenant. Your immediate job is to make sure the Wyvern Slayer won¡¯t be known for nurturing a rogue mage with Hallowed chords. Stay safe from nonsense and learn. Remy is your new master. Take her orders as a child would his mother¡¯s. Your lessons will start immediately, and they won¡¯t stop before you¡¯ve mastered casting.¡±


    Remy grinned wide and posed with some sort of hand signal I didn¡¯t understand.


    I nodded half-heartedly. ¡°Sounds good.¡±


    ¡°Rakash and Shena will help you however they can, and that goes for any topic, including or excluding magic.¡± Darko sat down on a barrel and leaned on his arm. ¡°The gist is, I can¡¯t have you moping under sacks of hay all day. A mage will not survive without a strong will. You, as is now, will fall off the tracks within a week. Do you think you can offer your strength to improve?¡±


    ¡°I will try my best,¡± I said with absolutely zero will behind my words.


    Darko didn¡¯t look convinced but nodded regardless. ¡°We have a busy schedule ahead of us, and I¡¯ve got plans for you I¡¯d like to tell you to spend the day on some sleep, but rest will have to wait. Your training with Remy will start right away. Learn as much as you can during the trip before my complicated matters come and ruin the fun.¡±


    Remy gave him a look. ¡°And what could possibly be more complicated than the control of mana?¡±


    ¡°There is nothing more intricate than calculated law-breaking.¡± Darko grinned.


    The dreadful feeling inside me only increased. Why the hell did I agree to any of this?


    Fire Resistance - Seeing as you¡¯re reading this, I presume you have not killed yourself with your first fireball. Hooray! You are now responsible and experienced enough to become a true pyromaniac. Fire Resistance grants you near-immunity to heat. Be careful, however. The hotter the flames, the more mana the upkeep of this spell requires. Attempt to sleep in a housefire nonchalantly, and you¡¯ll find yourself stuck in a mana-exhausted slumber.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400; text-align: justify">Goddess Shiela¡¯s description of the spell ¡°Fire Resistance¡±</li>


    </ul>

 20: Illegal Teacher

    Remyer Ravilles quite liked her nickname. Remy. Cute and simple. It helped her forget that she was still, in fact, a pledged member of the nobility she despised.


    What she didn¡¯t like as much was her student¡¯s inattentiveness.


    The wagon had arrived in Hastmire half an hour ago, though the lessons continued inside. Cillian claimed he preferred the shade of the wagon. Darko and Shena had stepped out to examine the town outside, while Rakash remained in the wagon to rest.


    The Gorthorn ostensibly kept her eyes closed, though Remy knew Rakash hadn¡¯t been asleep for a second. Rakash listened to every word like a protective mother watching over their kids from the sidelines. She paid far more attention to lessons than the student Remy was actually trying to teach. Still, Remy had no time for getting uncomfortable.


    If Cillian put this little effort into every lesson, Remy knew her student would fall to the Corruption within a week.


    ¡°Recite the last part for me,¡± Remy ordered. ¡°What did you take away from this passage?¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± Cillian said. ¡°Mana and magic are not synonyms?¡±


    ¡°That is correct,¡± Remy said. ¡°Mana is the fuel of any spell. It¡¯s the power that our hearts bear the burden of pumping. Magic, in turn, is the result of a mana reaction. When a mage performs a spell, all we¡¯re really doing is transferring mana into its physical form: magic.


    ¡°That all sounds fun until you learn that a mage¡¯s idle mana desperately wishes to turn into magic. The fuel in our body can only stay dormant for so long. If we don¡¯t weave mana into magic, mana will find its own solution. It will turn into something, looking for places to react with. And unlucky for us, a mage¡¯s head is just the place where mana loves to set home. That¡¯s the Corruption.


    ¡°Your job as a recent awakener is to direct the destructive force of your mana into anything that is not your head. To turn mana into magic.¡±


    ¡°How do I weave magic, then?¡± Cillian asked weakly.


    ¡°We will get to that,¡± Remy said. ¡°First, you will learn to prevent as many possible hazards as you can. Weaving mana is not as simple as trying whatever you please. If mana transforms into magic in the wrong places, you might just accidentally blow yourself up.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± Cillian said. He barely faced his teacher at all, eyes drifting to some dark corner of the wagon.


    Watching him, pressure welled in Remy¡¯s throat. Cillian looked so¡­ dejected, as if he wasn¡¯t truly living in the world around him but was stuck in some deep abyss. Had he truly paid attention to anything she¡¯d taught?


    Remy wished she could help but was afraid to bring up the topic. Cillian had already dismissed her earlier attempts at comfort. It was as if he didn¡¯t want to be helped. How was she supposed to help, let alone teach, someone who was barely willing to talk to her?


    ¡°Cill,¡± Remy said. She wished to sound commanding, but the words came out as concerned. ¡°You will have to pay more attention. At this pace, the Corruption will eat you while I¡¯m repeating the basics. I am serious when I say we don¡¯t have much time. If there¡¯s something troubling your mind, you have to say it. I am your teacher. I will help in any way I can.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Cillian said. ¡°I just¡­ Does Darko really plan on involving me in all this? Hunting cultists...¡±


    ¡°We are all members of his team,¡± Remy said. ¡°As regretful as it is.¡±


    Cillian glanced up at her, baffled by the response. ¡°He said I¡¯ll be breaking the law. What did he mean?¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re asking for too much,¡± Remy said. ¡°By the time you learn what our maniac leader is up to, he has already included you in several crimes, and you¡¯ll be known in town as a mysterious ¡®legend.¡¯¡±


    ¡°You mean¡­ Even you don¡¯t know what he¡¯s up to?¡± Cillian asked. ¡°You don¡¯t know what he wants of me?¡±


    ¡°Darko has his plans,¡± Remy said. ¡°He¡¯s reluctant to reveal what they are. He claims we don¡¯t need to worry about what doesn¡¯t concern us. Shena and I suspect he simply does not have plans beyond our immediate hurdles.¡±


    Cillian looked confused. ¡°Why do you work under him, if this is how he operates?¡±


    Why indeed? Remy thought, letting a smile escape. She¡¯d pondered on the same question many times. Was she stupid to defy the proposed marriage assigned by her family? Was there any reason to live like a mole as an adventurer, when a far more lavish life awaited her should she choose to accept her future? She had no noble reasons for hunting the cultists like Shena, and she wasn¡¯t hungry for glory like the leader. She just¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m selfish,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s why. I don¡¯t like the way life is supposed to be lived. So, I chose my own stupid path. Why Darko¡¯s team specifically? I¡¯m not sure. I like it here. Now, let¡¯s get back on topic. We¡¯ve got a lot to learn.¡±


    Cillian watched her for a moment before his eyes, along with his attention, pointed towards the floor. His expression proved he did not like it here in the slightest. His thoughts were stuck brooding elsewhere.


    With his gloominess, Remy¡¯s smile wandered off like a declined lover. She couldn¡¯t smile, not while her student wore a look of pure sadness.


    ¡°Cill?¡± Remy asked. ¡°Are you really fine? Is your head already being clouded?¡±


    He perked up. ¡°I slept poorly. I¡¯m tired, that¡¯s all. It¡¯s hard to think. I¡¯ll pay attention.¡±


    Remy studied him. He raised his head, ostensibly ready to pay attention, yet something about his figure pinched at Remy¡¯s chest. Was it his slumped posture? His colorless eyes? His odd nationality and mannerisms? Looking at him hurt. Was he really just tired?


    ¡°On second thought.¡± Remy stood up. ¡°I think we could use a break. Why don¡¯t you and Rakash step out for a walk? Some light will help get our thoughts sorted out. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±


    On the way out, Remy glanced at Rakash, whose orange eyes acknowledged the look. The Gorthorn was odd, almost as foreign as Cillian. Remy couldn¡¯t believe Shena spoke the same language as this oddity. Still, Rakash was a clear friend. The Gorthorn wished the best for Cillian, too. They had to do something to help his condition.


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    If only Remy knew what. Even Shena couldn¡¯t heal Cillian¡¯s exhaustion, and she was one of the best support mages Remy knew.


    A foggy landscape welcomed Remy to the village of Hastmire by the western side of the main road. Old log huts were spread cutely across the mossy vegetation of yellowy wetlands. The village wasn¡¯t quite a puddle, but the ground was deceptive enough that houses were connected with wooden float bridges. Most construction was overdue for repair.


    A sorry sight from a glance, but so was every city and town these days. On the inside, secluded villages were often the most warm and welcoming, always ready to greet adventurers and merchants in hopes of hearing tales from the outside world.


    Something told Remy she wouldn¡¯t be telling stories of her adventures to eager village folk tonight. With a gloomy look on her face, she headed after Darko and Shena, towards the Guild Post by the outskirts of the village.


    She watched her footing by habit, hoping to keep her boots clean. An adventurer as she claimed to be, she¡¯d been mocked for her obsession with cleanliness many times, but this was one aspect of her noble self that Remy refused to see bullied out. A clean outfit was a necessary hassle to uphold. This was especially true when teaching Cillian, who seemed to share the tendency.


    The Guild Post was a two-storied log house with a tiled roof, as expensive as the rest of the village combined. Little teeth marks littered its lower facades, left behind by wood gremlins looking to have a taste of its logs. Lands so close to the wastes were often gremlin-infested, and thus, everything wooden had to be protected with a layer of ivy lacquer.


    A short woman with reddened eyes stopped Remy on the porch. ¡°Mage! Please, miss. You can¡¯t all leave us. We need help!¡±


    Remy was taken aback. The woman was around thirty with brown hair, wearing a common apron. She reached for Remy¡¯s hand, practically begging for attention.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Remy asked. She held the woman¡¯s hand. ¡°Did something happen?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the mana mines,¡± the woman said. ¡°Please. I have nothing. The village is dying!¡±


    ¡°The mines?¡± Remy asked. ¡°What happened?¡±


    The woman took a deep breath. ¡°They took my family. My husband, my child. Moons, I must have explained this to a hundred different people. Nobody cares. Half of the village is holed up in the mines, locked behind guards. I don¡¯t know if they¡¯re even alive! We just need someone to bring sense into all this. The Guild won¡¯t help.¡±


    Remy bit her lip. A wave of guilt and sorrow washed over her, faced with the woman¡¯s saddened face. How would she have felt if something so terrible happened to her that she had to beg outside a guild for someone to help?


    Adventuring Guilds¡ªdespite advertising themselves as places of virtue, where the poorest of the poor could run for assistance¡ªwere not charities, nor virtuous as the stories claimed. Real Guilds operated more like mercenary agencies. Customers paid for a problem they wished to see fixed. In turn, the Guild assigned adventurers to solve the ¡®mission.¡¯ If a customer had no money to request a mission, the Guild sent no adventurers to help.


    ¡°Can I pay for your mission?¡± Remy asked, checking her pockets. She had a few silver marks of change. With Darko¡¯s schedule, she rarely had time to help personally. Offering to pay for a mission was the next best thing she could offer. ¡°How much is the Guild asking?¡±


    ¡°They said it will be a gold mark at minimum.¡± The woman covered her face with her hands. ¡°I can¡¯t afford it. The whole village combined can¡¯t!¡±


    Remy raised her eyebrows. A gold piece? She didn¡¯t have so much. The guild never asked for more than a stack of copper, at most a silver mark, for ordinary missions. Something was seriously wrong.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Remy said. ¡°I¡¯ll ask my team if we can help. I hope we have time.¡±


    The woman nodded through her sniffles. Remy slid inside with a terrible taste in her mouth.


    Common men in tunics sat by tables, drinking ale. Non-adventurers, who were allowed in to fill business. Outposts often acted as inns and alehouses alongside their main purpose of employing adventurers. Today, few customers were laughing or enjoying themselves. The Guild was as silent as the village outside.


    Why was every place so depressing? The moons were bright as ever; why was everyone holed up in gloominess? Wasn¡¯t strength and joy supposed to be a Krose virtue?


    Remy found Darko and Shena at the receptionist¡¯s desk. Darko leaned forward on the counter, facing the poor errand boy in charge. The boy was clearly uncomfortable with Darko¡¯s presence.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying¡­¡± Darko said. ¡°The mana well is hijacked by its own workers, and the Guild isn¡¯t offering a job to fix the situation, let alone offering pay?¡±


    ¡°The well is not of the Guild¡¯s ownership, sir,¡± the boy said. ¡°The village isn¡¯t willing to pay for a mission of this tier. The matter is the royalty¡¯s problem.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Darko said. ¡°The villagers can¡¯t pay for a job because their source of income has been stolen. And instead of helping recover their livelihoods, the Guild chooses to let them suffer since Hastmire does not have enough money to make money?¡±


    The boy¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°I don¡¯t choose how the Guild operates, sir. Please bring your complaints elsewhere¡­¡±


    Darko sighed. He ordered a beer, to which the receptionist hastily complied. Darko took a large gulp. He ignored Shena¡¯s judgeful eyes and turned to Remy.


    ¡°One hell of a town,¡± Darko said. ¡°Is there a single place in the world not filled with problems?¡±


    ¡°Can we help them?¡± Remy asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we might have to,¡± Darko said. ¡°What about our other worries?¡±


    Remy bit her lip before saying, ¡°Your persuasion didn¡¯t work. Cill is¡­ It¡¯s like he¡¯s half-dead.¡±


    A troubled frown appeared on Darko¡¯s face. Not an angry or threatening expression, but a concerning one nonetheless. Remy hadn¡¯t seen him this distraught for the last few cities.


    ¡°Let¡¯s talk outside,¡± Darko said. With annoyed steps, he took his beer mug out through the front doors. They stepped past the woman, and onto the less crowded main road.


    ¡°I had hoped Cill¡¯s condition was a simple moping fit,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯m positive it is indeed a moping fit. Just a more serious case. Rakash told me what happened in the church.¡±


    A moping fit. Remy didn¡¯t like the expression. In her opinion, calling someone¡¯s sadness a ¡°moping fit¡± was degrading to the emotions involved. As if one wasn¡¯t allowed to express emotions for a loss they received.


    Yet, Cill¡¯s case was different. He had to wake up and learn. The Corruption did not pause for a mage¡¯s showcase of sadness.


    ¡°He¡¯s barely listening,¡± Remy said. ¡°It¡¯s as if he doesn¡¯t care.¡±


    Darko continued walking as he sipped his beer. ¡°I was afraid my words weren¡¯t going to be enough. Cill is not going to bring himself up on his own. He¡¯s going to need some persuasion.¡±


    ¡°What do you suggest?¡±


    ¡°From now on, I want you to teach him rough,¡± Darko said. ¡°Like old Jord would have. Don¡¯t allow him to wander off in his thoughts. He needs to learn that doing nothing simply is not allowed.¡±


    ¡°Will that be enough?¡± Remy asked. ¡°Do we need another lesson about the Corruption¡¯s effects?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Darko said and sipped his beer. ¡°Cill needs to be brought into action. Words alone won¡¯t get his body moving. He needs to see that a world awaits him outside our wagon. The world needs him to move. Can I borrow him for the remainder of our stay in the village? I¡¯ll wake him up by the time we depart for Arkber.¡±


    ¡°If you think you can help him¡­¡± Remy¡¯s look wandered to the back of Darko¡¯s feet. Troubles welled up within her, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to say them out loud. Teaching an awakener, especially one of Cillian¡¯s caliber, was usually considered a full-time occupation. Cillian didn¡¯t have time for detours. Sooner than later, the Corruption would creep up.


    Remy desperately wished to teach him. Cillian¡¯s life would be hell if he went with the nobles. An awakener with Hallowed chords would never know a break.


    Yet, the darker part of Remy¡¯s head knew she was being naive. There was a reason why only licensed teachers could train awakeners. Why Remy¡¯s crime of teaching Cillian shared punishments on par with murder.


    Was she really good enough to teach Cill to cast magic in time?

 21: Moping Fit

    ¡°You don¡¯t wish to receive light?¡± Rakash asked. She spoke in the Gorthorn language. Her words were delivered with an elegant touch, some of which was clear even through translation magic. ¡°Your teacher¡¯s suggestion for a walk was a good one. She should have conveyed it as a command.¡±


    Walking around won¡¯t bring me back to Earth, I thought. Nor will it untangle me from Shiela¡¯s games.


    ¡°Your teacher knows her magic,¡± Rakash said. ¡°And she is being nice to you. It¡¯s a mistake to disregard her favor. You need to put more effort into learning her wisdom before she grows impatient.¡±


    ¡°How can you say this so nonchalantly?¡± I asked. ¡°I nearly killed you. My magic¡­ If you hadn¡¯t protected yourself from me, you would be dead. Why are all of you so adamant in getting me to cast more?¡±


    ¡°Without your magic, I would be dead,¡± Rakash said. ¡°The Black Plate, as you call it, would have cut me into pieces. You defeated it. You defeated every single cultist. And thus, I am alive. It is not your fault that these cultists wished to kill us all.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond. It wasn¡¯t just the past that made paying attention difficult. It was the present, and the fact that I was currently projecting a total lie of myself. I was a Goddess¡¯s apostle, one with abilities beyond what I realistically should have ever had. Yet, I was pretending to be any old recent awakener.


    Was I a fool for not using Shiela¡¯s system? Was I a liar for not showing my powers to my companions? I didn¡¯t know. I simply didn¡¯t know, and brooding over these thoughts was making me insane. I felt so damn guilty.


    I couldn¡¯t explain I was a Goddess¡¯s apostle. I couldn¡¯t explain the system¡¯s inner workings. Shiela physically blocked me from both. How would have Remy react if I, the most clueless mage she had ever seen, suddenly cast Shiela¡¯s menace of a fireball?


    ¡°You saw me casting magic,¡± I said quietly, my mouth facing a barrel in the opposite direction of Rakash. ¡°You know that I¡¯m not what I pretend to be. Why are you not revealing my lies?¡±


    ¡°Keep your secrets,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I am not so impolite as to pry.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You no-breeds are too quick to judge,¡± Rakash said with a smile. ¡°To repeat, I will not pry. As my people say, ¡®The kind are allowed their secrets.¡¯ To question is impolite. To reveal is betrayal. I judge you to be a kind man, Cillian, and thus I believe your secrets are justified. Curious as I may be, I lack the right to your head.¡±


    I watched her in genuine bafflement and surprise. This was not how I expected the conversation to go. ¡°Your kind doesn¡¯t care about others¡¯ secrets?¡±


    ¡°Of course we care,¡± Rakash said. ¡°But more than that, we care about keeping our secrets.¡±


    ¡°But you saw my magic at the church. Are you not worried I will cause harm?¡±


    ¡°The one most afraid of harm is yourself,¡± Rakash said. ¡°It¡¯s this fear that will bring you to danger. Whatever your powers are, you need to learn to control them.¡±


    She¡¯s lying, I thought. Rakash had insisted on staying in the wagon during Remy¡¯s lessons, watching us. She doubted me just as much as everyone else.


    ¡°I believe you are honest with your lack of knowledge,¡± Rakash said. ¡°You are not pretending. How, then, do you cast magic? Have you lost your memories? Forgive my bluntness. I am not asking for an answer.¡±


    I thought of what I could possibly say. Truth was, I wanted to talk about this. I needed to. All this Goddess¡¯s apostle nonsense was causing more stress and worry than a human should ever deal with. The only way to get the thoughts out of my head was to talk.


    The tarp opened. Darko stepped in, then fully opened the back curtains.


    ¡°Cill,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve got us a job. Come with me.¡±


    I raised my head. The language of the conversation changed to Krose. I knew by some instinct. ¡°I thought I was learning magic?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still learning magic,¡± Darko said. ¡°Magehood is a permanent occupation until death takes its place. That does not mean your life is only about spells. We¡¯ve also got other bullshit that needs to be dealt with.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s¡­ the job?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure yet,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ll have to figure that out. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve got cultists. Problems in need of Heroes nonetheless.¡±


    ¡°Give me a few more minutes,¡± I pleaded. ¡°I need some rest.¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Darko said. He stepped further in, then pulled me up from my arm. ¡°This is an order. I need your help. Now.¡±


    I gulped, every inch of my body protesting. What on earth could Darko have ever needed my help with? This was a scheme. I knew it already. But I couldn¡¯t exactly argue. Not with Darko¡¯s speech still fresh in my memory. I forced myself to step out of the wagon.


    My body was exhausted. That much became obvious by the first step. My legs were sore, muscles grinding against each other instead of working together. The type of pain one earned by sitting still for a concerningly long period of time.


    I breathed the humid air of the scarcely packed swamp and followed Darko into the village. The sun¡¯s glare from above forced my head down lest I blind myself. This suited me just fine. People were outside, all of similar nationality as Darko and the girls. Your usual village folk, I presumed. Whatever they thought of outsiders, I was not keen on confronting their looks. My attention was taken by the plank bridge underneath my feet, to make sure I didn¡¯t sink into the mossy ground.


    Darko kept his stare ahead, walking as confidently as ever. ¡°Cill. How proficient are you at formal speech?¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Acceptable?¡± I said. ¡°By my own country¡¯s standards?¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°You speak nicely enough even at your most casual. We¡¯re adventurers; we¡¯re known to be a rowdy bunch. But as is now, your presence won¡¯t exactly make for a good impression. Your posture won¡¯t do. And neither will your weak tone.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Your current abilities as a mage are not proficient,¡± Darko said. ¡°We can both agree on that. That stays true until you learn to cast proper spells and learn how to work with the team. Until then, I have another use for you. Simply put, your Hallowed chords are a powerful tool in negotiations.¡±


    Ah, hell, I thought. Negotiations. My former occupation on Earth. Also, the source of my biggest failures and insecurities.


    ¡°You will need some training,¡± Darko turned to face me. He grabbed my temples and lifted my head. ¡°First lesson. I don¡¯t need you examining the bridge, as pretty as it is. You can¡¯t stand as if you¡¯re trying to hide from the world around you.¡±


    I gulped as Darko further examined my posture.


    ¡°Your shoulders are drooped, and your back goes round,¡± he said. ¡°As a result, your neck wishes to point downward. Straighten your body for me, will you? I won¡¯t ask you to hold yourself like a royal swordsman, but I do need real posture, not whatever this is.¡±


    Darko was right, of course. My shoulders were sore, and so was my back. I¡¯d sat and stood like a hunchback for the majority of our ride. The posture had come naturally, as if I was some submissive slave. I forced myself to stand properly, as uncomfortable as it felt.


    ¡°Good.¡± Darko nodded. We resumed walking. ¡°Stay like that, and maybe we won¡¯t get kicked out of the premises.¡±


    I complied with Darko''s request, but I wasn¡¯t happy about it. Keeping my head up meant I was more prone to attention from the outside world.


    A woman wearing a summer apron and long boots hung laundry on a wire between houses. She paused as we passed. The moment I looked in her direction, she turned away, pretending I didn¡¯t exist. Most village folk offered similar reactions. Children stopped playing, their mothers dragging them away in haste. A woman some turns ahead trotted through the wetlands out of our way, then watched us from behind a building with disapproving eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to get used to this kind of treatment,¡± Darko said. ¡°The Krose aren¡¯t exactly welcoming of outsiders. It¡¯s a flaw of our culture, perhaps. I like to call it ¡®concerned curiosity.¡¯ The village sees you as a weirdo. Once you show them you aren¡¯t a threat, they¡¯ll open up.¡±


    ¡°But I am a weirdo,¡± I said.


    ¡°False,¡± Darko said. ¡°You reason like a sensible human. You speak Krose better than some natives. This alone will intimidate people into listening to you. You just look like a weirdo.¡±


    I bit my lip. ¡°Do I need to talk? What if I enjoy my status as a weirdo? Really, what''s there to negotiate in a village? Why would you need my help?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. There likely isn¡¯t much to negotiate. Mostly because the town has nothing to offer.¡± Darko¡¯s look turned sour. ¡°There isn¡¯t much to farm in a swamp like this. The reason Hastmire exists at all is to accommodate mana workers, as the land houses one of the largest mana wells in the area. Apparently, the well has been hijacked. The village has lost its income.¡±


    ¡°Hijacked?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re supposed to figure out,¡± Darko said. ¡°The Guild doesn¡¯t know what the hell is going on. From what I¡¯ve heard, mana workers have holed themselves in the mines as some sort of protest. Soon enough, the village will starve without the well¡¯s income. We¡¯ll have to question the villagers.¡±


    I suppressed a frown. The story sounded awfully familiar to what happened in Vol¨¦s. ¡°But¡­ Why do you need my help? You¡¯re better at negotiations than I am.¡±


    Darko sighed. ¡°Cill. Read the situation. I don¡¯t actually need your help. What I need is your effort. I need you to give your all, even when it isn¡¯t absolutely necessary.¡±


    My eyes drifted towards Darko¡¯s feet.


    ¡°Rakash told me you were heroic back in Vol¨¦s. She said you have a kind heart. You wish more for others than you do for yourself, and you¡¯re willing to put yourself in danger to save your friends.


    ¡°We need more of who Rakash described. Your moping fit can¡¯t continue. It simply can¡¯t. I won¡¯t allow it. I need your determination, and so do you. You¡¯d be surprised how quickly the body recovers once it realizes the world, in fact, is not over. For that to happen, the body requires your effort.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how to respond. I agreed with most of Darko¡¯s points, of course. Who was depressed out of their own will? Hell, I wished I could have been the person Rakash supposedly described me to be. It just wasn¡¯t that simple. I couldn¡¯t conjure willpower out of nowhere.


    ¡°That said, our stay at the village does hold real purpose,¡± Darko said. ¡°And you, Cill, need real practice for our upcoming royal audience.¡±


    ¡°What audience?¡± I asked.


    Darko had no intention of responding and sped up the pace. I rushed after him, posture slowly drifting back towards misery. Remy had been right in her assessment of Darko¡¯s plans. I¡¯d learn them only once the plan was halfway completed, and I was tangled beyond chances to escape.


    Our trot through the village led us back to where we¡¯d come, to the main road. I thought, in relief, that Darko would take me back to the wagon to practice more magic. As much stress as magic caused, I much preferred learning in the comfort of our wagon over any nonsense Darko wished to put me through.


    Darko didn¡¯t head to the wagons. Instead, we turned toward a larger log house by the edge of the town. The Guild Post.


    ¡°See that woman by the doorstep?¡± Darko asked. ¡°She has begged all of us for help, regarding this mana well problem. I want you to accept her request.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I gushed. The woman glanced in our direction. ¡°No, I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡± Darko asked.


    ¡°Well, I¡­¡±


    Goddammit. I had nothing to say. How could I have explained the absolute stupidity processing inside my head? I had no logical explanation as to why I was afraid of doing as Darko requested. Anything I could have possibly used as an excuse would make me sound like a total fool.


    ¡°Listen, Cill,¡± Darko said. ¡°Nobody enjoys watching you mope. I don¡¯t think you enjoy it either. It¡¯s time we start living life for real. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    I nodded. Like a goddamn child being scolded, I agreed.


    This turned out to be a terrible mistake.


    ¡°Good,¡± Darko said. ¡°In that case, let us get going.¡±


    With the speed of a cat, Darko slid behind me. He pushed me from behind with enough strength to force me forward, toward the direction of the stranger. She watched us with a concerned look on her face.


    Holy shit! I panicked, realizing just what Darko was up to. He would force me into the situation against my will!


    Adrenaline filled my nerves along with any and all chemicals appropriate for a battle to the death. My brain reacted as if Darko was pushing me into a pit of lava. It screamed a fight or flight request, desperate to bring action into the situation. I responded by freezing on the spot.


    I was pushed to the front doors, a mere step or two away from the woman¡¯s confused figure. She faced my panicked face in silence. She didn¡¯t beg or plead, nor did I know what the hell I was supposed to say or do. For a moment, we stared at each other.


    I opened my mouth. Out came incoherent stutters.


    Then I slid past her, and through the front doors of the Guild, hiding my face in shame.

 22: Useful?

    A dozen eyes landed on me as I entered the lounge. Adventurers and frowning ale drinkers. My arrival was greeted with a moment of silence that hit my nervous state like a punch to the face.


    I sped past customers, onto the dimly lit stairs, then to the quiet second floor. Closed doors surrounded the undecorated and vacant hallway, lit by a single kerosene lamp. I slumped by the darker side of the walls and covered my panic-struck face.


    Darko found me seconds later. ¡°What the hell?¡± he asked.


    His tone wasn¡¯t the least bit threatening. He was quiet, calmly addressing me like a disappointed father. That didn¡¯t make me any less distraught.


    What¡¯s wrong with me? I thought. I wanted to smash my head against the wall. Since when had I grown so damn impossible? I had always been bad at social situations, but I¡¯d never been this terrified. What the hell had changed?


    I knew I was being stupid. I wanted this to stop. Of course I did. I didn¡¯t willingly fill myself with adrenaline every time this kind of shit happened. Communication, with strangers or not, was supposed to be a basic human function.


    Darko took a deep breath. ¡°This won¡¯t work. You¡¯ll have to go to the nobles.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°And I¡¯m not saying this because I¡¯m upset with you, or because I want to punish you,¡± Darko said. ¡°We simply can¡¯t teach you. I can¡¯t turn you into an adventurer. At least not in the time we have. I can only send you to someone who can.


    ¡°A slave contract will force you to provide effort. As much as you will hate the process, awakeners need to put their all into learning and living. I cannot squeeze that kind of effort out of you. Only a contract can. In fact, this was what contracts were originally invented for. To force awakeners to keep fighting, to force them to learn with every ounce of willpower and beyond. You will need to follow this process.¡±


    I bit my lip in an attempt to control myself. If my brain had a say, I¡¯d have collapsed on the floor, pretending to be dead just to escape the situation. Fighting this instinct took serious effort. Darko could very well have asked me to jump off a cliff, and I¡¯d have felt the same emotions.


    I knew I was in the wrong. This was no argument. It was simply a matter for my stubborn self to figure out.


    ¡°No¡­¡± I said, forcing the words to come out. ¡°I can do this. Give me another chance.¡±


    Darko grabbed me by the shoulder. ¡°This is serious. As cruel as this sounds, a slave contract could save your life.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m being stupid. We can both see that. The one who needs to put in effort is me. That¡¯s what you¡¯ve been trying to tell me. I can do this.¡±


    Darko studied me, uncertain.


    Before he could argue, I pushed his hand off my shoulder and walked past him, downstairs. I passed the lounge without once glancing at customers.


    A single deep breath was all that prepared me for whatever I was about to place myself in. Further thoughts would only allow for regrets to appear. I headed outside and faced the woman who still waited by the porch.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I said. ¡°We heard, uh, that you required help with this mana well thing?¡±


    The woman stared at me. Confusion and distrust showed in her face. Her subconscious looked for ways to escape the situation, at least to secure a runaway if the weirdo in front of her got too confrontational. She found my presence uncomfortable.


    ¡°You speak Krose?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for running off. My boss¡­ That red-haired guy. He mentioned you needed something.¡±


    She hesitated. ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°You, um¡­ Could you repeat the request?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You can forget I asked,¡± the woman said. ¡°Please leave our village alone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m odd,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re really trying to help.¡±


    ¡°I have no money,¡± the woman said.


    I glanced at Darko, who appeared after me, standing a few paces behind me. ¡°Do we work for free?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Darko stepped forward and smiled at the woman. ¡°Forgive my friend¡¯s awkwardness. He¡¯s still unfamiliar with our customs. He won¡¯t eat you, I promise. We¡¯re here to see what¡¯s wrong with your mines. Take us to your elders. I want to discuss the problems of this town.¡±


    Thank you! I thought, relief washing over me. My hands trembled more than I would have liked to admit.


    The woman stuttered in surprise. Her expression and demeanor turned upside down when faced with Darko. She offered a bow. ¡°Of course. Please follow me.¡±


    Nervousness showed in her step as she descended from the porch, toward the village. She sent quick glances to make sure we were following.


    Darko grinned at me. ¡°You did well. That¡¯s what we need more of.¡±


    I swallowed the urge to belittle myself. ¡°I would have failed without you.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why I¡¯m here to help,¡± Darko said. ¡°Remember that.¡±


    I hated to agree with him, but I did. The world hadn¡¯t ended from my little stutters. But I didn¡¯t exactly feel good about myself.


    With a few more turns, our escort led us to a larger dome-shaped cottage with a hay roof. An unimpressive building by modern standards, but comfy nonetheless. I had no right to complain. She knocked, then opened the unlocked door.


    A lone round table filled the room¡¯s interior. The table stood low with cushions to act as chairs. Beside it sat four people. An elderly woman, maybe seventy years old, good-looking for her years. She wore a tribal gown and a floral tiara around her head. She was comforting a crying younger woman in a less refined apron. Surprise and confusion overtook their features.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the intrusion,¡± our escort said. ¡°These adventurers have come to hear our requests.¡±


    The two other occupants were armed men with steel swords and leather vests. Their hands hovered over their weapons upon our arrival. Glares cast our way.


    Darko held his left hand up, then calmly sat on the ground between two cushions. ¡°Ease up, you skittish weasels. How come you beg for help to come, only to sneer at anyone who possibly wishes to offer their time? Don¡¯t you think bandits would rob a more well-established village as opposed to your sorry lot?¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The guards kept their frowns. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Wyvern Slayer Darko. Maybe you¡¯ve heard of me. This is my acquaintance. Cill, a wielder of Hallowed mana chords. He is one of the most powerful foreign mages to ever step into this country. We have heard the problems of your village, and we¡¯ve got two hours to figure out the mess.¡±


    The guards and the elderly woman shared glances. Both looked doubtful at the very least.


    ¡°Hallowed mana chords?¡± the elder asked. ¡°A claim of nonsense, young man. Hastmire offers nothing to attract assistance from foreign lands. Our pockets hold lone coins, and our word holds no fame. Your arrival can only be a scheme¡ªone with no payoff but the possible evil of enslaving our children as payment for your assistance.¡±


    ¡°Wise judgment,¡± Darko said. ¡°I understand your doubts. And I will dismiss them. You can either accept my presence, or you can decline me and receive my help regardless. I do not ask for a payment.¡±


    ¡°This does not make sense,¡± the elder said.


    Darko smiled. ¡°I save villages as a hobby. And you, my good woman, will have to tell me how I can save this damn village before the whole country is without mana wells. If you don¡¯t, I will use my methods to fix this mess.¡±


    She took her time thinking. Our escort whispered something into her ears, during which their brows furrowed further. Nobody appeared happy to have us.


    ¡°Very well,¡± the elder eventually said. ¡°I do not trust a word you say. But weakened as Hastmire is, we have no choice but to accept your presence as a serendipity, and to hope you bring no curses with your guest. To remind you, Hastmire offers not the smallest of sums nor a single child for your gracious act of God.¡±


    Darko grinned. He signaled for me to take a seat, to which I hesitantly complied. I kept my posture high, perhaps even overdoing it a little. The fear of Darko¡¯s lectures and warnings of slave contracts kept me composed.


    ¡°Bring me every villager who knows what is going on,¡± Darko said. ¡°We need as much information as we can get. What happened, what is happening, and what will happen.¡±


    Our escort left on his orders. Within a few minutes, a dozen more people were brought to the building. Darko, the madman, had successfully organized a meeting by simply barging in and making big promises.


    Like most meetings, this one started with introductions. The elderly lady was named Pearl, pronounced exactly like the English word. I didn¡¯t know if her name was translated or if her name happened to match English syllable to syllable through coincidence, but I didn¡¯t question it. Pearl was the current Chief of the village, as was implied by her title of ¡°Elder.¡±


    The beggar woman, now seated beside the Pearl, was called Meryv. She was the wife of one of the betraying mana workers. Her entire family, including her daughter, went missing after the town¡¯s events.


    The rest of the townsfolk introduced themselves as either victims of the events, or as peacekeepers of the village¡ªguards who offered to help Darko in any way they could. Darko kindly declined their assistance, claiming that men without ¡°glyphswords¡± would only get in the way of his team.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Darko asked. ¡°You were all happily living, and one day your husbands never showed up back home?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Meryv said. ¡°Nothing was out of the ordinary. I packed dinner for my husband and wished him a happy day. The same was true for everyone. None of our men appeared the slightest bit odd. Then it happened. Mana sources cut off. Nobody has as much as shown their faces from the mines. We haven¡¯t sent a drop of mana to Arkber in days¡­¡±


    Everyone agreed.


    ¡°I see,¡± Darko said. ¡°What about the mine itself? Has anyone investigated inside?¡±


    Meryv opened her mouth, then broke a tear, failing to speak.


    ¡°The entrances are guarded by royal hired workers,¡± Pearl said. ¡°They won¡¯t speak, and they¡¯ve got glyphswords. We can¡¯t get in no matter what we try. Except for Leesha, Meryv¡¯s daughter. She sneaked in to find her father. Leesha¡­ hasn¡¯t returned.¡±


    Meryv fell into uncontrollable tears. She tried to fight her emotions, failed, then gave up and excused herself from the meeting, apologizing for her behavior. Townsfolk watched her go with saddened expressions.


    Darko asked a few more questions, though we didn¡¯t learn much more. I was happy to stay as an outsider, only watching the scene. I feared we were going to have to visit this ¡°mana mine¡± to learn more.


    ¡°My team will see what we can do,¡± Darko said. ¡°We cannot promise results. If it turns out the mine has been illegally hijacked, we will punish those in charge.¡±


    ¡°Thank you!¡± the townsfolk said all at once, practically kneeling and offering prayers. Only Pearl remained composed, directing a suspicious look at Darko.


    ¡°Hastmire does not take well to trickery,¡± Pearl said. ¡°Whatever your scheme is, Akona overlooks us all. Remember the Moons, young man, and the punishment you will bear for tricking those who are below you.¡±


    Darko grinned. ¡°Contrarily, don¡¯t you think the Moons will be happy to see someone actually taking care of their lands for a change? Honest men often bear the best of reputations.¡±


    Pearl tried to study his intentions. She, like I, failed to deduce anything other than the fact that Darko was insane.


    ¡°We will see what we can do,¡± Darko said. With that, he stood and led me out of the building.


    Outside, a group of kids spied on us from behind buildings, their presence visible immediately. Darko sighed but ignored them. ¡°We¡¯ve got an hour or two. Any more, and we¡¯ll be late for Arkber. Let¡¯s get the girls. Cill, lead me back to the horses.¡±


    I raised my head back from the ground, where I¡¯d let my posture drop. ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been staring at my feet,¡± Darko said. ¡°A bad habit. An adventurer needs to remember the paths they took. You¡¯ll never learn a single landmark if all you do is blindly follow.¡±


    I looked around, only to realize Darko was entirely right. I had no idea where we were, despite just walking in this direction. In this world, I had no GPS to tell me exactly where to turn. Reluctantly, I picked a path leading roughly in the direction where we¡¯d come. Luckily, the village wasn¡¯t large. Getting lost would be harder than finding the wagon.


    ¡°You did well, Cill,¡± Darko said, walking by my side, half a step behind. ¡°That was good practice.¡±


    ¡°I did nothing,¡± I said. Which was true. I hadn¡¯t said a single word.


    ¡°You paid attention, clearly noting everything that was said,¡± Darko said. ¡°And you made sure your attentiveness was shown to those talking. You took the negotiations seriously, like a proper assistant. If you can maintain a similar pose during more important negotiations, we are halfway set already.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean¡­¡± I asked. ¡°No slave contracts?¡±


    ¡°That depends,¡± Darko said. ¡°Can you keep your head up? Or will you fall the moment an obstacle blocks your path?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll try my best.¡± The main road was visible below. I walked swiftly toward the stables.


    I hated that I agreed with Darko. Every time I was forced to comply with his requests, my brain felt as if it lost pride. My brain didn¡¯t care that Darko was clearly trying to lift me out of my slump. For all it knew, Darko could have been making fun of me.


    Stupid thinking, most certainly. My way of thought was a literal parasite that nobody should argue for. Stubbornness was one hell of a drug to overcome.


    ¡°Are we actually doing this for free, just because of your hobby?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Darko said. ¡°Not entirely. We work for free, and we won¡¯t require any favors. In the village¡¯s eyes, our deeds will be free. But the ulterior motive I have is our reputation. Performing good deeds for free is a great way to make yourself known.¡±


    ¡°Am I allowed to ask¡­ Why? Why do we need a reputation? What¡¯s our plan?¡±


    ¡°You are always allowed to ask,¡± Darko said. ¡°I admit, I am hiding some of my plans from you and the others. This is by intention. I don¡¯t need you to worry about the future when the present is already giving us trouble.¡±


    ¡°Not knowing gets me just as nervous,¡± I said. ¡°What if you suddenly reveal that the plan is to leave me out on a field as bait?¡±


    Darko laughed. ¡°We require fame because there is a certain man we need to impress. Clever ideas are best presented with a large history of success. My group was founded barely a year ago, meaning we will have to work extra hard to build a reputation.¡±


    ¡°Does this have to do with the royal audience?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Darko said. ¡°The audience is also why I need you to get familiar with negotiations. It¡¯s scheduled for three days from now. That¡¯s how much time I have to train you to trick a King.¡±


    Arcane Projectile - One of the countless spells in the ¡°projectile¡± subcategory of spells. In my opinion, all spells in this category are far too boring to see real use. It¡¯s a shame that projectile spells are becoming more common throughout Kroses Sol.


    This spell shoots out a laser-like projectile of arcane magic. I really don¡¯t know what else to tell you. Try it out if you really wish to.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400; text-align: justify">Goddess Shiela¡¯s description of the spell ¡°Arcane Projectile¡±</li>


    </ul>

 23: Mana Mines

    I paused, my mouth hanging open. ¡°Trick a King?¡± I gushed.


    ¡°Maybe ¡®trick¡¯ is not the right word,¡± Darko said. ¡°We aren¡¯t scamming His Majesty, nor are we causing him any harm. We are simply using a few lies to make ourselves appear more appealing than we actually are. Your presence is a fantastic tool for this.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re lying to who?¡± I asked.


    Darko ignored me and walked ahead. Our wagon was in sight.


    God fucking dammit! I thought, rushing after Darko. Huss had warned me of this, I remembered. A King was involved in this shit too. I¡¯d have to meet him. Negotiate with a damn medieval King. Too many things had happened in between, and I¡¯d forgotten.


    We found the girls sitting side to side by the back of the wagon bed, taking in sunlight. Or moonlight, as the weirdos of this world called it. Rakash sat beside Shena in the open but kept her head covered with an oversized hood. Bystanders wouldn¡¯t see her dark skin unless they looked at the right angle. I should have probably hidden my identity the same way.


    On our arrival, Remy hopped off her seat. ¡°Cill!¡± she said, a surprised look on her face. ¡°Have you woken up?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You look alive,¡± she said. ¡°Thank the Moons. We can finally start learning!¡±


    Darko let out a laugh. ¡°I bullied him into proper posture. Makes all the difference, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Remy grinned with thankful enthusiasm, as if I was her totaled car that Darko had fixed for free. Her smile was contagious. The grass below her stood slightly higher simply by her presence.


    I looked away by second nature. I certainly did not feel alive. ¡°Distraught¡± was a better word. Every single inner problem in my head was left unprocessed.


    ¡°How is the village?¡± Shena asked. ¡°Is the issue worth our time?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re checking out the mana mines,¡± Darko said. ¡°Hopefully we find something interesting.¡±


    Shena looked as if she didn¡¯t agree. ¡°The driver is ready to depart. Do we have time to solve every conflict in every tiny village? If your goal is to gain fame, there are a dozen more effective strategies. Word of our achievements here likely won¡¯t reach Arkber in time.¡±


    ¡°People are missing,¡± Darko said. ¡°The village needs help. We¡¯ve got some hours to spare, and we might find something interesting along the way. If nothing else, we¡¯ll have gained the favor of one more village. I say this is a perfectly valid job for us to take.¡±


    ¡°I want to help them too, of course,¡± Shena said. ¡°I say this because there are more important matters we could be helping with.¡±


    ¡°Every small problem we fix works towards our larger goals,¡± Darko said. ¡°Don¡¯t forget this. It¡¯s the minor problems that often escalate.¡±


    Shena sighed before saying, ¡°Let¡¯s get moving, then.¡±


    The girls prepared to embark. Remy picked up the weird urn thing and other valuables. The others grabbed their staves and adjusted their robes.


    I turned to Darko. ¡°You need me for negotiations. I don¡¯t need to, um, investigate the mines, do I?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t specifically need to investigate the mines,¡± Darko said. ¡°You just have to do something. And that something happens to be investigating mines. You¡¯re coming with us if only to look around. Stay determined and watch us work. I won¡¯t allow you to stare at the floors. That¡¯s the least I ask of you.¡±


    My throat felt heavy. ¡°What if the mine is hijacked by cultists?¡±


    ¡°It could be,¡± Darko said. ¡°If so, today¡¯s payday holds a whole lot more prizes.¡±


    That¡¯s it? I thought. A potential death mission was simply ¡°more prizes?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± My gaze lowered on its own. ¡°I understand why I need to stay determined. But I can¡¯t fight them. I¡¯m not ready. Negotiations I can survive. Maybe I can even perform this ¡®King tricking¡¯ plan. But if I have to meet more cultists¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Darko said. ¡°My team is more powerful than you think. If we happen to end in a fight, you are perfectly safe. That''s the benefit of being damn strong. Even fights to the death tend to be relatively safe. As long as we don¡¯t meet fighters who are damn stronger.¡±


    I bit my lip. How could I explain my perspective to someone whose whole life revolved around swords? It wasn¡¯t just my safety I was concerned about. I didn¡¯t want to see death at all.


    The girls were ready to embark. Nobody waited for my nervous ass to calm down. Once again, the world reminded me that I had few choices. Shiela had me tied tightly to the intended path. And nothing short of Darko¡¯s third option could untie me from this future.


    I dismissed the thoughts and walked after the group. The trot led us beyond the village on a wider wooden bridge. Remy kept me company, saying we couldn¡¯t waste an opportunity to learn. She was excited to teach me more magic, though made sure to talk quietly in case passersby were listening.


    Her grin didn¡¯t last long when she noticed my mind wandering off, even more distracted now than before.


    ***


    The mana mine turned out to be a simple descending opening within a hillock. Wooden beams were built around the entrance as support. The mine didn¡¯t look too different from a real mineshaft, or perhaps it resembled a cave from a fantasy video game.


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    As the townsfolk had promised, two royal guardsmen stood by the entrance. They proudly wore roughed-up black military outfits with insignias and all. Their frowns appeared immediately, swords hurrying off their scabbards.


    ¡°Private property,¡± the taller of the two men said. ¡°You have no right to pass.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got three mages and a glyphsword.¡± Darko pulled his sword and held it out, emphasizing the hilt. ¡°Do you want to surrender and tell me what¡¯s going on in here, or do you want to get your asses beat?¡±


    The guards looked at each other.


    At that moment, Shena and Remy lifted their staves and blasted a projectile at the guards¡¯ heads. It happened so fast, I couldn¡¯t see what hit them. Both collapsed and would have likely suffered permanent brain damage had Earth¡¯s logic worked here. They appeared to have simply passed out, sprawled across the wet moss.


    ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea?¡± Remy asked. ¡°Firing at royal guards, when our goal is supposedly to impress royalty?¡±


    ¡°If these fuckers are real royalty, I¡¯m Cerdri¡¯s descendant,¡± Darko said. He knelt down to examine the guards¡¯ coats. ¡°The uniforms are real. They¡¯re simple Privates¡¯ outfits. Privates never wield glyphswords. The swords aren¡¯t of royal make either, but the cheapest mass-produced crap money can buy.¡±


    ¡°Impostors, then,¡± Shena said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Darko said. He grabbed the fallen guards¡¯ swords and casually snatched them into the trunk Remy was carrying. She didn¡¯t physically carry it, of course, but floated it in the air with magic.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get in, then,¡± Darko said.


    I swallowed the awful worries and forced myself to follow. Bad memories from the church¡¯s catacombs resurfaced in my head. Darko strolled ahead of me, the girls behind. We walked quietly, listening.


    The mineshaft descended into the ground like a long-winded and unstable ramp. Some sections were steep and required stairs, others barely descended at all. The ground varied from wood to wet dirt. I had to watch my step. The place was lit with the same gooey lamps I had seen in the more expensive buildings of this world.


    Within the walls, behind the lamps, hung an ominous feeling. One that I couldn¡¯t explain through my usual senses. I just felt it there, like a force pinching my body from the inside. The sense came from what I had come to identify as my mana chords.


    ¡°Sensing the mana?¡± Remy asked. ¡°This is called a mana mine for a reason. For us mages, getting near natural mana can get quite uncomfortable. You should grow used to it quickly enough. Feeling mana is not that different from your real sense of touch.¡±


    ¡°You should mention,¡± Shena said, ¡°no fire underground. A mage isn¡¯t to cast anything fire within a confined space. Unless, of course, the plan is to kill everyone including yourself.¡±


    No need to remind me, I thought, my nerves only growing. How was it that my team always managed to say the most nerve-wracking crap at the moments I was most worried?


    ¡°What is our plan?¡± Rakash asked, speaking in Krose. ¡°My understanding tells me we are meddling with another tribe¡¯s conflicts. How will you sort what is not yours?¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t know before we learn,¡± Darko said. ¡°If the mana workers are protesting for whatever reason, all we can do is talk to them and ask them to convey their intentions better. It could be that the mine workers are doing this silently to avoid getting their village into trouble. Or what¡¯s much more likely, a third party is causing some sort of trouble.¡±


    ¡°Such as the poachers,¡± Rakash said, conveying my exact thoughts.


    Darko opened his mouth, then paused our step. ¡°Shh,¡± he said.


    I listened, sensing nothing for a few seconds. Then I heard it. Hasty taps. Running footsteps.


    Our mages held their staves in preparation for what was to come. I stood still in a panic, struggling to convince myself that nothing bad was happening. Who was to say that the slightest noise meant cultists coming to kill me?


    The figure of a fear-struck man ran towards us from below. Lone strands of scraggly beard had just started to grow from his chin. His tunic was ripped from multiple ends and covered in wet dirt. The sheer unkemptness of his appearance was enough to overshadow his otherwise tough and attractive features.


    His face paled further as he spotted us. He paused, unsure whether we were enemies or not.


    Assailants followed him. Three figures paused a short distance behind, blocking the path below. The man let out a cry and continued the run towards us.


    ¡°Help!¡± he screamed. ¡°They¡¯ve gone insane. They¡ª¡±


    A projectile from below smashed into the back of his head. A real projectile. The white of his eyes turned red, pressurized blood escaping from between the sockets before the man collapsed on his face.


    It took everything in me not to puke on the spot. I felt dizzy even through the rush of adrenaline. A man just died right in front of me.


    Below him, I spotted an orbed staff, wielded by a cowled figure. The staff pointed dangerously close to us. I felt as if the barrel of a gun was pointed at my head.


    Instead of shooting me dead, however, the figure turned around. It and the two other assailants fled deeper into the cave.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Darko said. ¡°They¡¯ve got mages. Run before they set traps!¡±


    This was a command I was happy to comply with. For once, my leader had said something sensible. I turned around and¡­


    Something grabbed my arm. Remy. She shook her head, then pulled me downward.


    Darko¡¯s order to run, I realized, did not mean to run for an escape. He meant to run for a chase.


    The leader was already on the move, Shena and Rakash not too far behind. I watched in horror. What the hell? Why would we ever go down there? This was madness!


    ¡°You¡¯re safest with me,¡± Remy said. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    I had no opportunity for arguments. Remy yanked me into action with more strength than I could imagine her arms giving. My body registered her command, deeming compliance as the best chance of survival.


    And so, we ran. Directly into the heart of danger. I could not begin to explain how much I hated this move. I could have listed a hundred terrible emotions I felt, and all of them stemmed from the fear of whatever the hell waited for us down in the mines.


    Luckily, I didn¡¯t have time for thoughts. My body acted on my instincts, lacking as they were. I tried my best to replicate Remy¡¯s experience and training. Right now, this meant running. A skill that even my idiotic self could manage, despite the few near-falls along the way.


    The run must have lasted a minute at most¡ªmy mana chords squeezing harder and harder with the sensation of mana in the air¡ªbefore we finally reached the action. Darko, Rakash, and Shena paused by the entrance to a circular room, filled to the brim with metal pipes. A tree-like stem glowed purple in the middle of the room.


    A concave of masked men blocked us from entering, crossbows and a staff pointed at our faces. Beyond them, men were tied down to a metal fence with rope. A young girl, presumably Meryv¡¯s daughter, kicked and cried under a masked man¡¯s hold.


    Behind us, more cultists appeared to block our exit.


    Arcane Discharge - Now this is a real spell. And dangerous. I guess I should warn you about that. Anything this spell hits will most likely disintegrate into nothingness.


    The spell shoots out a wave of uncontrollable arcane magic. Kind of like that ¡®Kamehameha¡¯ attack from Earth. Do not cast while allies are anywhere near your field of view.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400; text-align: justify">Goddess Shiela¡¯s description of the spell, ¡°Arcane Discharge¡±</li>


    </ul>

 24: Instincts

    One day.


    One day was all I had to unpack the absolute spiderweb of memories from Vol¨¦s. To mourn for deaths, to come to terms with my new lifestyle, and everything in between. Needless to say, my attempts at mental recovery had barely started.


    And here I was again. Death cultists on both sides, crossbows pointed at me and my companions¡¯ faces. People threatening lives to resolve conflicts I didn¡¯t fully understand.


    Fantastic. Absolutely fucking phenomenal. Life in a fantasy world was so goddamned relaxing.


    I observed the situation with relative calmness¡ªif my state of not screaming in a mad panic counted as ¡°calm.¡± The cultists were visibly afraid of Darko and our mages. They knew they were in a trap just as thoroughly as we were.


    Darko held his sword in a defensive stance, facing the opposing mage. Rakash and Shena covered him with their staves, ready to react to crossbow attacks. Remy protected our back, appearing fully composed.


    ¡°Well, then,¡± Darko said to the cultist mage. A masked face revealed from underneath the figure¡¯s cowl. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about the situation, shall we? We¡¯ve got a lot more firepower. Your goons won¡¯t have a chance.¡±


    ¡°We have hostages,¡± the masked mage said. A woman¡¯s voice. ¡°Drop your weapons, or they will all die.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn about your hostages,¡± Darko said. ¡°Our pay comes from clearing the cultist problem. If you wish to kill the hostages, go ahead. Your consciences will bear murder for no reason.¡±


    The mage let out a laugh. ¡°Pretty lies, adventurer. I know that look on your face. Our lives are a simple number for you. The villagers are what you¡¯re truly after. I recommend you drop your weapons. I promise to spare the hostages.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I do care for the hostages,¡± Darko said. ¡°But certainly not more than I do for my own skin. I¡¯ll be pissed if you harm a single one of them. Afterward, I¡¯ll kill all of you. I¡¯m sure you would prefer a more peaceful approach.¡±


    The row of mana workers looked horrified. The young girl screamed, still struggling under the masked cultist¡¯s grip. This was until the cultist pulled out a knife and pressed it against her throat. Her tears became silent whimpers. The men watched in horror.


    ¡°The cult does not save hostages,¡± the mage said. ¡°If no resolution is agreed upon, the hostages will die at the cost of our own lives. This is my final warning.¡±


    ¡°And this is also my final warning,¡± Darko said. ¡°If any of you wish to reconsider this cultism bullshit, I will do anything in my power to make sure you keep your lives. I have done the same to dozens of cultists who wished to change sides.¡±


    The masked men appeared hesitant. Not for long, however, as a new order resounded from their leader.


    ¡°Kill the first hostage,¡± the mage said.


    Hell broke loose. Everything that followed happened within seconds.


    The cultists initiated the slaughter by cutting a worker¡¯s throat. Darko screamed and growled at the same time, letting out a sound of pure anger. He dashed forward.


    He swung at the cultist mage, who blocked the blow with her staff, grimacing. Darko immediately slid past the mage and towards the hostages, slashing any unfortunate cultists standing in his way in half with his now-glowing sword.


    Crossbow bolts flew all around. A few hit Darko in the back, sticking to his skin but only barely. Certainly not deep enough to do real damage. One stray crossbow bolt hit a hostage in the left thigh, another pierced a cultist¡¯s chest with friendly fire.


    Shena and Rakash both defended and attacked at the same time. Any crossbow bolts that shot toward our mages were blocked with some sort of shiny window¡ªa blockade spell that stopped attacks like a solid wall. Remy protected our back with a similar spell, all the while shooting a projectile at any cultist who attempted to escape.


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    Crossbows we easily defended. The cultist mage, however, was a different story. The woman pointed her staff at our backline. At me.


    My nerves exploded, faced with the orb of her staff. It glowed like a laser pointed directly at the eye. Magic sprouted from within. A purple arrow-shaped projectile formed, then shot at my head with the speed of light.


    Shena jumped in front of me just in time. A magic-powered shield projected out of her staff. The shield spanned the length of the shaft, wielded like any ordinary shield. The arrow connected with the corner of the shield¡ªa blow which knocked Shena sprawling on the ground, out of the fight.


    No! I let out a gasp. There was no time to make sure Shena was alive. The cultist mage was preparing another attack.


    Rakash dashed for the battle, slashing at the mage with the same claw attack she¡¯d used in the church. The mage blocked physically with her staff. Then, she hit back with a spell I would see in my nightmares.


    Daggers spawned around her body and over her head, shaping a circle. Translucent purple, the daggers floated in thin air, wielded by no one. The daggers thrust at Rakash periodically, hitting her blind spots. Rakash grimaced, requiring her all just to defend. There was no way to counter.


    I could help, I thought. Shiela had given me one spell perfect for this situation. ¡°Arcane Snare.¡± By its description, I had deduced the spell was overpowered. If I managed to land it, perhaps Rakash could win.


    I opened my mouth.


    Then my lips wavered. What if I missed and hit Rakash instead?


    A dagger cut Rakash in the shoulder, the Gorthorn backed into a wall. I watched, frozen in horror, sure that another friend would die. I had to cast that spell!


    Something shot at the cultist mage. Shena had risen and countered with a laser-like projectile toward the cultist¡¯s neck.


    The cultist grimaced and jumped back, dodging the blow. Shena shot another.


    The cultist defended with a new spell. A chrysalis formed around her body, blocking Shena¡¯s attack. The cocoon grew in brightness, opacity solidifying until the woman inside was no longer visible.


    Rakash lunged, hitting the chrysalis with her claws. The cocoon broke in one clear swipe. It shattered into pieces.


    The mage inside was gone. As if she¡¯d teleported away.


    Her escape was the least of our worries. Two hostages were dead by the time Darko arrived on the fence. He cut through the cultist with the knife, saving the rest of the hostages. Eight men lived.


    Within the next ten seconds, the remainder of the masked goons were killed or immobilized. Shena shot them with magic projectiles, Rakash swiping with her claws. The whole room was a massacre-fest. A third of the floor was covered in blood.


    All that remained was one single cultist, backed into a corner. The cultist holding a knife to the young girl¡¯s throat.


    His limbs trembled. A drop of blood escaped from where the knife scraped the girl¡¯s skin.


    ¡°Drop your fucking weapons!¡± the cultist shouted. ¡°And stay in view, all of you!¡±


    This time, our team complied immediately. Darko dropped his sword, holding his hands up, and the mages dropped their staves. I didn¡¯t know what to do, so I awkwardly raised my hands, heart beating.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not be stupid, okay?¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ll do as you say.¡±


    The man kept his eyes mostly on Darko, as our leader appeared the most menacing. He barely paid attention to me or the staffless mages.


    ¡°Get in there, all of you!¡± He pointed at a corner opposite the door. ¡°And stay together! I don¡¯t want no surprises!¡±


    Darko moved slowly towards the corner in question. He used big but slow movements, as if intentionally drawing attention to himself. It worked. The cultist¡¯s attention was almost entirely on Darko.


    ¡°All of you, move!¡± the man called. He turned to the mages and me. ¡°You too¡ª¡±


    The sentence broke as a well-aimed icicle pierced his forehead. I wasn¡¯t sure who cast it, but the shot couldn¡¯t have been more perfect. The man¡¯s knife hand fell limp, and the girl in his arms was freed. Shock had replaced her cries.


    The cultists were dead. The situation was saved.


    There were no celebrations. Only silence as everyone acknowledged the mess we had created.


    The young girl was first to move. She got up from the limp cultist¡¯s hold on her own. ¡°Dad?¡± she asked through her tears.


    She walked to the fence of tied-down mana workers. ¡°Dad? Are you okay?¡± She kneeled beside one of the two men unfortunate enough to have died. She poked him in the chest, as if not seeing the blood dripping from his slit throat. ¡°Dad, wake up¡­?¡±


    Finally, Shena picked up the girl and carried her out of the room, trying her best to comfort the child while no one else could.

 25: Adventurers’ Bond

    The aftermath destroyed my heart.


    The situation itself had been bad. Many had died, including three innocents, who we possibly could have saved with better planning and less rushed actions. Simply the amount of blood and body parts in the room was enough to ruin sleep for who knows how long.


    What really made me wish to die was the misery afterward. I was forced to watch as the mana workers, freed of shackles and ropes, mourned their fallen friends. They thanked us with half-hearted gratitude, acknowledging us as their saviors. Yet, nobody could truly call us heroes, not with the girl¡¯s cries ringing in our heads.


    The child had understood what had happened. She saw her dead father. And it would haunt her for the rest of her life.


    The surface wasn¡¯t any better. I wanted nothing more than to hide back in our wagon, and to forget today existed. Instead, Darko took me to the Elder¡¯s cot to deliver the news of what had happened. I was too afraid to excuse myself in fear of what threats Darko would offer for declining.


    Meryv was the first to greet us. She thanked the Moons at the sight of her daughter, pure relief on her face as she hugged the child.


    Happiness evolved to depression when she learned of her husband¡¯s fate, and of the horrors her daughter had witnessed. The family was broken, lucky to be alive at all.


    Darko apologized to Pearl and the mana workers. He hadn¡¯t delivered a heroic event as he had hoped. The cultists had been prepared for his attack. He expressed his deepest sorrow for failing to save everyone. This was a time to mourn, not to celebrate.


    The workers disagreed. They told us the story of how this all happened, how one day the cult attacked the mines, replacing the operation with their own. The cultists treated existing mana workers as slaves, using forceful labor to steal mana into their experiments. Six of the men had died before Darko had arrived, and more would have died. For Darko to stop this all with only three more casualties, he¡¯d performed a miracle. The men showed their thanks.


    Deep down, however, they were all just as broken as I was.


    Some Goddess¡¯s apostle I am, I thought. If I wasn¡¯t so damn afraid of my job, I could have helped these people. Shiela¡¯s system provided tools. I could have cast ¡°Arcane Snare¡± on the cultists attempting to kill the hostages, or I could have ensnared the cultist mage herself. But alas, I was too afraid to as much as practice Shiela¡¯s magic.


    What remained was cleanup duty. Darko took me to speak at the Guild Post. He informed staff of what had happened, then paid his own money for the Guild to set up a ¡°mission.¡± He requested the Guild provide help to the village in any way possible. A job advert was placed, offering pay for anyone who spent their time helping the village.


    Remy stayed behind in the mines. She emerged half an hour later with that weird urn. Somehow, the urn felt slightly fuller than before. And even more weirdly, Remy¡¯s outfit contained not a speck of visible blood.


    What did I do to help? Nothing. As usual, I was absolutely useless. My help wasn¡¯t asked for, and I didn¡¯t volunteer. Not that I wanted to do anything; I simply wished to distance myself from the situation as fast as possible.


    And thus, half an hour later, I found myself safely back in the dark corner of our wagon. The ¡°adventure¡± was over, and the journey would continue. Towards our next city. Towards more adventures. Misadventures.


    ¡°The driver insisted on finishing his game of cards,¡± Shena said with a sigh, stepping into the wagon. She was the last to arrive; all of us stood or sat on our spots in the cramped wagon. ¡°They¡¯re playing the tournament style.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ll make it to Arkber just in time. Preparations will have to hurry, that¡¯s all. Remy, how was the cleanup?¡±


    ¡°Royalty will have to deal with the bloodstains,¡± Remy said. ¡°I grabbed the bodies. Cultist bodies, that is. It¡¯s a shame their mage escaped.¡±


    ¡°You no breeds wield the oddest spells,¡± Rakash said. ¡°The mage abandoned her people by teleporting away?¡±


    ¡°¡®Crystal Chrysalis¡¯ is what she used,¡± Remy said. ¡°Not an easy spell, especially the latter part of her trick. As is typical, expert mages are the most cowardly. They¡¯re afraid to risk all the years of practice and prowess for a fight they¡¯re not certain they will win. Had she decided to truly fight, one of us could have been harmed.¡±


    I sat in my corner as the team discussed. How could everyone talk so nonchalantly? I barely noticed any difference in the air at all. Nobody smiled, not even Darko, but that was about the extent of our mourning. Didn¡¯t the village deserve a moment of silence? A day or two to mourn?


    ¡°Cill,¡± Darko said, bringing my attention back to the conversation. ¡°You did well. I¡¯m proud of how you handled today. The cultists were scared as hell of your presence.¡±


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    ¡°Mm,¡± I said.


    ¡°That is to say, stay determined and you¡¯ll turn into a proper adventurer in no time.¡±


    I looked away. How exactly had I done anything well? In what world was I determined? This mission was a total failure.


    ¡°Cill¡­¡± Darko said. ¡°I don¡¯t like it when you go quiet. You¡¯re not telling us what you really want to say.¡±


    Please¡­ I thought. Can¡¯t I rest for five minutes?


    ¡°Cill?¡± Darko asked.


    ¡°I have nothing to say,¡± I said. ¡°I just need some sleep.¡±


    Darko stepped closer. ¡°Do we have to go over this conversation again? All of us can tell you¡¯re lying. If there¡¯s something troubling you, for the love of the daylight moons, don¡¯t let it brood in your head.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it,¡± I said.


    Darko studied my slumped posture. ¡°I mean it when I said you did well. You didn¡¯t panic, you didn¡¯t freeze at the sight of fighting, and you didn¡¯t totally lose your mind. This is a good start. The future is what¡¯s important.¡±


    ¡°I am losing my mind,¡± I blurted out. ¡°I¡¯m not determined in the slightest. I¡¯m terrified. This whole operation was a mess. How are all of you so nonchalant?¡±


    ¡°Admittedly, this job was a failure,¡± Darko said. ¡°I made too many mistakes. All three men would have survived had I taken better precautions. Still, this could have gone worse. At the end of the day, we defeated a cultist operation and saved the majority of people involved. The royalty would consider this a resounding success.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t wish to argue with you. But I¡¯m not fit for this. I¡¯m really not. I hate seeing death. The only reason I¡¯m here is because I have to.¡±


    Everyone¡¯s silent eyes drew to me. Remy bore the same saddened eyes she gave to Meryv¡¯s child. Shena and Rakash looked concerned, their gazes not much better. The looks pierced my skin, pinching at what remained of my heart.


    ¡°The world is cruel,¡± Darko said. ¡°But you are correct on one part. You¡¯re here because you¡¯re forced to¡ªthrough our fucked-up fate. To some extent, this is true for all of us. None of us want to hunt cultists. But as things are, Azetoth¡¯s screwed-up cult exists. If nobody opposes them, the cult will continue to exist. Don¡¯t forget that the cult is after you, and they wish to see you dead.¡±


    I can¡¯t¡­ I¡¯ll break. I can¡¯t do this anymore. No more cultists¡­


    ¡°Am I cruel for dragging you into this?¡± Darko asked. ¡°Perhaps. I¡¯m selfish if nothing else. But the truth is, Cill, you are a mage. Mages don¡¯t survive by rejecting their fates. A strong will is not trained by sheltering the mind from danger. Mages need to train, to enforce risks instead of fearing them. Adventurers, especially mages, can¡¯t use failures as excuses for moping fits.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not having a ¡®moping fit.¡¯ This is just who I am. A useless waste of life.¡±


    Darko was taken aback by my words. He froze for a moment, then scowled. ¡°Don¡¯t say that. I won¡¯t allow you to say that.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s true,¡± I said. ¡°Your assessment might be right. I don¡¯t blame you for trying to train me.¡± Really, this was all Shiela¡¯s fault. The Goddess had tricked me into this. ¡°But I can¡¯t fight the cult. I¡¯m too weak for this life. Maybe I should just take your third option. It will be the best for us all. You won¡¯t have to worry about me, and I won¡¯t have to deal with cultists.¡±


    The girls listened to my words in shock. A wave of guilt washed over me. I fought it back.


    ¡°Cill.¡± Darko lowered to my level and grabbed my shoulders. ¡°Think about what you¡¯re saying! You can¡¯t possibly tell me you¡¯d rather die than give this your all. We are all on your side here. Rooting for your success. There is no need to give up because a few missions didn¡¯t go as planned.¡±


    ¡°And what reason is there to keep going?¡± I asked with volume I didn¡¯t know I could manage. ¡°If I learn magic, I¡¯ll have to fight more cultists or enslave myself for eternity. What reason is there to live for an existence like this?¡±


    ¡°Cill¡­¡± Darko said calmly. ¡°You are entirely right. None of us disagree with you. This world is not pleasant. That is precisely why we fight to change this fact. No matter how horrible life becomes, no matter how many losses we suffer, the worst outcome is to lose our will to care.¡±


    ¡°What if I could never care in the first place?¡± I asked. ¡°What¡¯s the point of forcing myself to change, when whatever I grow attached to immediately gets their throats slit?¡±


    Darko had no immediate response. Nobody knew what to do or say. I didn¡¯t blame them.


    Dangerous emotions clouded my head. I wasn¡¯t thinking clearly. All sorts of fucked up chemicals brewed inside, using me as a cauldron. I hadn¡¯t eaten properly, and all around I felt like absolute shit. These weren¡¯t the types of decisions one should make in the state I was in.


    I stood up. ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk. I need to think alone.¡±


    I expected Darko to protest a dozen times over. He would never let me wander off alone while cultists were possibly after us.


    To my surprise, perhaps through the shock of my actions, nobody rushed after me. I stepped out of the wagon, then turned toward the jungle-like woods on the eastern side of the main road.


    It was about time the misunderstandings were cleared. Shiela had sent me to the wrong world. Or perhaps this trick was simply a punishment. Regardless, the experiment had gone on for long enough. I wasn¡¯t meant for this world.


    Shiela and I would have a long conversation tonight.

 26: Otherworldly Beauty

    Leaves of tall treetops offered a pleasant shade from the scorching moons. The forests of this world were beautiful. Beautiful enough to make me doubt my ideas.


    The multi-colored trees weren¡¯t like anything I¡¯d seen on Earth. Their trunks consisted of hundreds of smaller trees coiled together as they grew upward. Some stalks were white, some brown, others closer to black. Each part grew separate from the rest, as if the tree wasn¡¯t just one being, but many teamed up into one, working together. A rare occurrence for nature that usually fought for space until one remained triumphant.


    All vegetation followed similar beauty. Grass gave off a clean odor, as if accepting me into their home with open arms. Lush flowers grew naturally under trees, offering the place much more color than any of Earth¡¯s jungles.


    I trotted aimlessly, constantly glancing backward to see if I was being followed. My body filled with pressure despite my attempts to stay calm. My instincts knew my intentions and were doing anything they could to stop the logical side of my brain from proceeding. I ignored the worries and continued onward.


    The forest was free of insects. No mosquitoes swarmed to bite me, and no ants trailed the grass. I watched my feet for snakes and other nonsense that could lurk within the unpathed foliage, but nothing bit my feet.


    I could have lived here. Friendly trees and calmness, no wars or human blood to stain walls. Of course, fantasy bears or other bullshit could have considered the forest its territory, but I had yet to be mauled. The forest appeared like a genuinely nice place.


    Yet, I did not belong here. This was a simple fact. Staying caused everyone harm. Shiela had made a mistake sending me here, and I made a mistake by stretching my life where it didn¡¯t belong.


    A short walk later, a change in the air made me pause. Breathing became difficult, as if climbing a mountain. The place felt off, not just in the lungs, but inside my body. My mana chords squeezed, telling me to turn around. The feeling was similar to the mana well underground. Less potent, but far more uncomfortable.


    What the hell? I thought. With hesitation, I stepped forward. The pressure only increased with each step I took. I tried my best to ignore it. Remy had told me the feeling of magic wasn¡¯t dangerous.


    The end of the tree line loomed ahead. Sunlight shone from between trees as if reflecting from an ocean. I squinted my eyes, struggling to see, until I crossed the last trees. A vast landscape revealed itself.


    Rocky plains replaced trees. Dirt replaced grass. Lifeless emptiness filled my view as far as the eye could see. Cracks and crevices littered the stone amongst the occasional wider ravine. Several craters were visible without having to move my head, and I doubted they were from meteors.


    The lack of life could be smelt in the air. And I don¡¯t mean the place was dead. Nothing had been alive in the first place. Not one sapling of a tree, not one speck of grass attempting to grow from crevices. The land¡¯s will had been sucked dry.


    I let out a weak laugh. What an amusing sight. How could such a beautiful forest reveal something so utterly dead behind it?


    The laugh came with a realization. The rocky plains were the perfect place to perform my plan. I could not have asked for a better spot. Miserable and unnerving.


    I stared at the landscape in silence, considering. My plan didn¡¯t feel right. Neither had the jump from the balcony, though this time I felt far calmer. Concerned, perhaps. Doubtful, nervous, outright scared. But calm¡ªdetermined to perform what was necessary, as if no other solution existed if I didn¡¯t go through now.


    I slid down the grassy decline, passing the line where life ended. My mana chords squeezed like nerves trying to explode. Something was wrong with this place in the worst way possible. A long history was behind these rocks.


    I walked further ahead below the setting sun and its three daylight moons, far enough that I was certain my actions couldn¡¯t have caused harm to the forest before me.


    Then, I pointed my palm directly at the ground between my feet.


    I took a deep breath. All that was left was one word. Was I ready to say it?


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    What would Shiela say if she received me back now? I doubted she would have any words of reassurance. From her perspective, she¡¯d sent an apostle into this world to possibly save the world from a catastrophe, only for me to use her powers for this.


    Then again, Shiela was at fault for choosing me as an apostle.


    My soul would be extinguished. So what? At least I wouldn¡¯t have to fight cultists and blast magic for a living.


    ¡°Fff¡­¡± I said, the words trailing off. The words felt heavy. My arm wished to lift upwards, back towards safety.


    My heart pumped like a goddamned factory. Every ounce of its being was active, as if trying to communicate with the brain through the intensity of its pumping.


    How would my friends¡ªif my screwed-up team of maniacs could be called friends¡ªreact to finding me? What would my teacher think, finding her student¡¯s remains? Would they find me at all? Did I care?


    Hell, I had to do this quickly. Before someone came after me to change my mind.


    ¡°Firrh¡­¡± I said and grimaced.


    This couldn¡¯t be so fucking hard. I wasn¡¯t trying to kill my mother for God¡¯s sake. I was simply making a logical decision when faced with the difficulties of my life. I had no reason not to do this.


    I found myself crying. For what? I couldn¡¯t go back now.


    ¡°Fire¡­¡± I said. No, that wouldn¡¯t work. I had to put my heart into it. ¡°Fire¡­ Fire¡­ Ball.¡±


    ¡°Fire¡ª¡±


    I jumped. Something touched my shoulders. A warm and sharp pinch.


    Mana surged through my chords along with a terrible wave of regret. Mana found my hand, but a fireball did not form. Instead, the mana dissipated into the air, like the cylinders of an old train releasing steam.


    I turned to see orange scowling eyes. Rakash pierced her nails through my cloak, pinching at my skin. Any harder and I would bleed. ¡°What are you doing?¡± she asked.


    I struggled free from her grip, then fell on my back. I gasped for breath, tears flooding out on their own. Holy shit. She saw me; she knew what I was doing!


    My next actions were fueled by pure primal instinct, not one logical thought behind them. I stumbled back on my feet and attempted an escape, wobbling towards the endless nothingness. Shame and every one of its relatives filled my head, enough bad emotions to cause permanent harm.


    This was worse than death. Holy fucking shit. I was a fool!


    I must have run ten steps before Rakash stopped me. This time, she used a spell on my feet¡ªone that glued my shoes to the stone below me. I was utterly trapped.


    She walked ahead of me. Her hooded figure faced my horrified expression. I could barely see through my tears.


    The panicked part of my head considered blasting her with Shiela¡¯s magic. I could cast an Arcane Snare, trapping her on the spot before taking off my shoes and continuing the escape. If I was really crazy, I could have easily cast a few fireballs in her direction, forcing her to leave me alone.


    Thank the Gods I did not do that. Instead, I accepted my fate, letting out my wails. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯m so sorry¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡±


    Rakash tackled me, wrapping her arms around me. Her hood dropped, revealing watery eyes. I froze in shock. She squeezed me tight. I couldn¡¯t have moved a shoulder had I tried.


    ¡°Dumb,¡± Rakash said in barely a whisper. ¡°You¡¯re dumb. An idiot. The dumbest idiot.¡±


    My body trembled, pressure welling up. A mind-numbing wave of regret and panic washed over me, as if my life was still in danger. Holy hell, I didn¡¯t want to die. I didn¡¯t want to burn. I didn¡¯t want pain.


    Had I really tried to end my life, just seconds ago?


    Rakash had no intention of letting me go. All I could do was cry, letting the rest of my stupid ideas flow onto her shoulder.


    I didn¡¯t know how long we stayed in the position. Maybe a few minutes, maybe half an hour. We stayed long enough for my panic to dwindle into embarrassment. I continued crying on Rakash¡¯s shoulders.


    Did I learn nothing from my time on Earth? What the hell had made me try this a second time?


    ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t shoot yourself in the sky,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Promise this, and I¡¯ll let you free.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I said weakly. ¡°I¡­ Promise.¡±


    Rakash held me tighter for a minute longer. ¡°I¡¯ll believe you,¡± she said, then let go. The spell on my feet dissipated into thin air.


    She didn¡¯t wipe her reddened eyes or her leftover tears. Instead, she sat down on a rock nearby and gazed into the rocky landscape.


    I stood beside her, staring in the same direction. Neither of us knew what to say or do. The moment couldn¡¯t have been called awkward. It was unnerving. If Rakash had appeared a second later, I would no longer have had the eyes to watch the landscape.


    Rakash had saved me. For better or worse, my plan had been stopped.


    Eventually, Rakash broke the silence. ¡°Awful place, isn¡¯t it?¡±

 27: Torn By Magic

    ¡°I used to live here, believe it or not,¡± Rakash said. Her speech came with long pauses, as if the concept of a conversation was a skill we both had to relearn. ¡°My tribe spent half a decade living in whichever corner of the wastes we could fit in. Bless me, but I¡¯ve come to consider endless rock as homely.¡±


    It felt wrong to respond. Much more important topics hung in the air, waiting to be addressed. Neither of us was ready to talk about what had happened.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± I asked under my breath.


    ¡°They¡¯re called the wastes,¡± Rakash said. ¡°A playground for mages. Dead land where power wielders test out their destructive arsenals. Where duels to the death are led to. Most magic isn¡¯t compatible with nature, as you know. One stray fireball is all we need to burn down an entire forest, if not city. It¡¯s banned by law to cast destruction where nature lives. Often, it¡¯s more than just banned; most consider the destruction of nature a sin. Gorthorn mages are afraid of learning destructive magic at all in fear of angering the gods.


    ¡°The Krose, however¡­ Well, this is their solution to the problem. You can¡¯t feel bad destroying nature, when it has already been destroyed centuries ago by ancestors. This all used to be healthy nature, once. Today, the vast majority of the country looks like this. It¡¯s all a result of decades of irresponsible magic use.¡±


    I gulped. Somehow, I didn¡¯t doubt her one bit. With the feeling in the air, with magical experience behind my back¡­ I could believe the craters were a result of spells.


    ¡°The Krose aren¡¯t exactly proud of the wastes filling their country,¡± Rakash said. ¡°People rarely visit, unless they have a clear purpose. Even learning mages tend to trot only the outskirts of the wastes, wishing not to get lost deeper. There aren¡¯t many places as lonely as the wastes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you lived here?¡± I asked. ¡°To avoid war?¡±


    ¡°To avoid the Krose,¡± Rakash said. ¡°No village in Krose lands will ever accept a Gorthorn tribe, not if we bring all the money in the world. Gorthorns have been treated like this long before the war.¡± She watched the landscape with longing eyes. ¡°My tribe was more than content with the wastes as a home. Living here felt like existing nowhere at all. Together alone in the wastes¡¯ loneliness. Then our camp was poached.¡±


    I glanced at her. Sitting on her rock with her head low, her usual intimidating presence was entirely gone. The fabric on her right shoulder was still wet from my tears.


    She let out a laugh and offered a smile. ¡°Forgive my ramblings. I¡¯ve been looking for my people ever since. The same as Shena. She became a member of our tribe at the age of eleven. Although she won¡¯t reveal this to anyone she doesn¡¯t trust with her life.¡±


    We continued staring into the distance. I didn¡¯t know what to say. The more my head calmed down, the more the mood shifted from disturbing to uncomfortable.


    ¡°Rakash, I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said again. ¡°I really didn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Keep it,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear your reasoning. And I won¡¯t blame you for what you tried. I¡¯ll only ask you not to do it again.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°My request is selfish, I know,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I have no right to force you to fight when you don¡¯t want to. Mages should be allowed to quit if they truly don¡¯t wish to deal with their fate. But¡­ It just feels wrong. I can¡¯t let my savior, someone with such a kind heart, do what you¡­¡±


    Her words trailed off. I knew what she was trying to say, and my brain wasn¡¯t any better at processing the information. I wasn¡¯t sure if I regretted going forward with my plan, or if I was annoyed to have failed. Life would have been a whole lot easier if I¡¯d cast the fireball.


    ¡°Truth is, I¡¯ve tried the same,¡± Rakash said.


    I lifted my head in surprise.


    ¡°The first time was a week after being left alone in the poachers¡¯ cells,¡± she said. ¡°I tried to bite off my tongue to bleed out, or to choke on my flesh. I couldn¡¯t do it through the pain. Barely halfway through, I healed myself with mana by instinct. The cult sensed my use of magic and assumed I was trying to escape. So, they whipped me.


    ¡°The second attempt¡­ It was right after the whipping. I thought I was out of options. I couldn¡¯t smash my head against the wall, since I knew the pain would force my magic to heal me. I couldn¡¯t cut my throat with my hands tied. So, I did the only thing I could. I filled my chords with mana in hopes I would explode from the inside.¡±


    I stared at her in shock. ¡°It didn¡¯t work?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I was a coward. I let the mana out at the last second. The cult whipped me for a week straight after that.¡±


    This was recent, I realized. Rakash was still in the same cells just a few days ago. She¡¯d tried to end her life just weeks, or even days, before our arrival?


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to find the will to live, knowing your tribe is all slaves and death, and your efforts have only led them deeper into the poachers¡¯ cells,¡± Rakash continued. ¡°I¡¯m ashamed now, knowing I couldn¡¯t have been more foolish, but back then¡­ it truly felt like the only option.¡±


    Rakash¡¯s sincerity showed on her face. Her worries were fresh, not something she had fully overcome. ¡°I thank you for bringing me out of that mess. It¡¯s because of you that I have the opportunity to chase my people again.¡±


    I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I felt like a child learning Santa wasn¡¯t real. Rakash had attempted suicide? How was that possible? ¡°But¡­¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯re so strong? Is it all a front?¡±


    ¡°People have two selves, Cillian,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Their weak self, and their strong self. Not one self is any less real than the other. I am not a liar when I cast my worries aside to fight. Nor am I suddenly a failed specimen when I tell you of my weakness. It is only human to embrace one¡¯s strong self, just as it is human to feel distraught by weakness.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ agree,¡± I said, my gaze down. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I don¡¯t think I have a strong self. I¡¯m weak, always. I mean, I¡¯m practically useless when it comes to magic.¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand me,¡± Rakash said. ¡°One¡¯s strong self has no correlation with skills or physical strength. True strength comes from the head. From the determination to put effort, despite life¡¯s failures. This is the advice that Darko wished to give you. His idea of a moping fit is, in my words, a state where a person embraces their weak self with no intentions of ever recovering willpower.¡±


    Another wave of hopelessness washed over me. Somewhere within me, I already understood Rakash¡¯s request. I understood what my team asked of me, and I knew they were right.


    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to try harder,¡± I said. ¡°To embrace my life as a mage instead of running from it. You want me to put in the effort. I know. It¡¯s just¡­ It¡¯s not so simple. I can¡¯t. I¡¯m already going insane, and I¡¯ve done this for two days.¡±


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Rakash looked off in the distance. ¡°It¡¯s not me, or even Darko, who wants to see you put in the effort. It¡¯s you. Believe me, putting effort is a thousand times easier than letting yourself drown in misery.¡±


    I took an uncomfortable breath. The sun slowly descended ahead of us along with the daylight moons. The moons were no longer blindingly bright.


    What could I tell Rakash? I couldn¡¯t reveal I wasn¡¯t truly from this world. I couldn¡¯t tell her I was a Goddess¡¯s apostle; I was physically blocked. How could I push through all these obstacles, pretending nothing was wrong?


    ¡°Cillian,¡± Rakash suddenly said. ¡°I wish to remind you that the death of Em and Ry was not your fault. Neither are the deaths of the mana workers.¡±


    My heart thumped, then seemed to freeze completely.


    ¡°I apologize for reigniting this topic,¡± Rakash said. ¡°You do not wish to speak of this; I can tell. Yet my experience with stubbornness tells me that this is not a conversation we can afford to ignore. I know that look in your eyes. You have indulged yourself in delusions, having convinced yourself that everything bad in the world is a result of your actions. This, believe it or not, is untrue. It is not you who killed Em and Ry. This fault goes to the cultists of Azetoth.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ my fire¡­ It splashed Em!¡±


    ¡°It did,¡± Rakash said. ¡°And that was done entirely in self-defense with good intentions. Did your fireball splash Em because you wished to kill her, or because you wished to defend her from the Warden? Did your fireball kill her, or was the blow dealt by a cultist crossbow?¡±


    I stared at her figure. My lips struggled to form the words I wished to say. ¡°But if I hadn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°If we were all geniuses, Azetoth and his demon followers would have perished under our hands already.¡± Rakash spoke far louder than me. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t such an incompetent mage, my tribe wouldn¡¯t have been caught at all. If I was just a little smarter, I would have located everyone already, on my way to free them of slavery. Yet I am none of those things.


    ¡°I blamed myself every day, I did, just like you do, but where did that bring me? To the poachers¡¯ cells, with not an ounce of hope of recovery. It is not my fault my people are forced into war. And it certainly isn¡¯t our damned fault that the cultists of Azetoth decided to wage war on the people who refuse his treatment.¡±


    I tried to conjure an answer, to argue for my case, though I quickly realized I didn¡¯t know what I was arguing for. Another lump had formed in my throat. As if I hadn¡¯t already let out enough emotions today.


    ¡°Remember,¡± Rakash said, placing her hand on my shoulder. ¡°Their fates are not your fault. No amount of regret will correct what is done. We can only push forward to avenge them.¡±


    God fucking dammit, I thought. Again, Rakash hit it right on the money, exactly on my insecurities. She attacked them like a burglar pounding on my window, expecting to be let in, expecting me to simply let go of my worries.


    The lump in my throat escaped from my hold, much to my attempts to stop it. It evolved into sniffles. I tried to get words out, to speak like a normal damn human, but all I had to show was a teary face. Soon enough, another wave of uncontrollable emotions flowed out of my eyes. I hid my face in shame.


    What was wrong with me? I was so damn tired of myself, so utterly sick of being such a useless human being. Why did I have to hide my fears? Would Rakash kill me just because I showed a little bit of weakness? Did I lose my right to live just for crying a little?


    ¡°Rakash, what should I do?¡± I asked through my tears. ¡°I can¡¯t fight the cult. I just can¡¯t. I¡¯m not cut out for magic. I¡¯ll go insane if I have to cast another fireball.¡±


    ¡°Are you truly as inexperienced with magic as you claim?¡± Rakash asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    ¡°Then you must learn,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Whether it be to quell the Corruption, or to learn responsibility with the art of magic, you must learn, for the sake of your future. When, in a year or two, you are confident in your abilities, you are free to search for a new purpose.¡±


    ¡°What if the others see my fireballs?¡± I asked. ¡°What if I shoot one too close to them? I don¡¯t ever wish to cast one again¡­¡±


    ¡°That, my no-breed friend, is why secrets are treasured,¡± Rakash said with a smile. ¡°You have no obligation to reveal a damnest thing. A good man is allowed good secrets. If I understood correctly, you are not forced to use these powers of yours.¡±


    I faced the stone ground below us, breathing in through my mouth, slowly calming down. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do it. I can learn magic, maybe, but I can¡¯t kill cultists. I¡¯m not that kind of person.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Most Gorthorns don¡¯t learn offensive spells at all in fear of angering the gods. You may have different reasons, but it is entirely acceptable not to learn spells to hurt people. Supportive mages are as useful as the destructive ones.¡±


    I formed a weak smile. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. For being so damn afraid.¡±


    ¡°There is no reason to apologize,¡± Rakash said. ¡°It is the creators who deserve to kneel for creating this cruel power we call magic. We all fight for the position that loses the least. Nobody has won yet.¡±


    I took a breath, watching the sunset. I didn¡¯t know if I agreed with Rakash¡¯s words. But, hell, when was the last time I¡¯d been hugged? Just hearing some reassurance offered much-needed warmth for my stupid head.


    As was always the case, no matter how many depressive episodes I lived through, sitting around in hopes of improvement was never the answer. I had to do something, hard as the path may be. It was about time I started believing in this fact.


    ¡°You all might be right,¡± I said, wiping my eyes. ¡°I have to learn. I will only cause harm if I try to reject magic.¡±


    Rakash smiled. ¡°I apologize for pushing you. I hope my speech was beneficial.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Rakash,¡± I said. ¡°I needed it. I will try my best. I promise. Even if my best is not any good.¡±


    ¡°If it isn¡¯t, there is no helping it. You can only try harder.¡± Rakash said with a grin. She stood up, patted her robe, then put on a serious face. ¡°Now, I hesitate to say this, but I believe we have spent far more time than we were allowed. I have another confession to make.¡±


    I stood up, sensing a shift in her tone. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked.


    Rakash pulled out a letter from her inside pocket and offered it to me. ¡°I am leaving,¡± she said.


    I raised my eyebrows. ¡°Leaving? Where?¡±


    ¡°I will continue the search for my people,¡± Rakash said. ¡°Our goals match, yet I am afraid I cannot stay with you. It is foolish of Leader Darko to escort a Gorthorn this close to the King¡¯s quarters. I will not step one foot into Arkber.¡±


    ¡°Can I¡­ convince you to stay?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have much of a choice unless your leader wishes to abandon his plan for the Gorthorn lifestyle,¡± Rakash said. ¡°My presence simply is not compatible with the racism of larger cities.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± I said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so down,¡± Rakash said with a smile. ¡°This is not a farewell or a goodbye, but a simple deviation. Offer the letter to Shena. She will require an explanation of my actions. That scoundrel wouldn¡¯t let me leave without tricks. My apology for using you for the message.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s okay¡­¡± I said, biting my lip. ¡°I¡¯ll deliver the letter.¡±


    ¡°Promise me you will not give up,¡± Rakash said. ¡°I, in turn, promise we will meet again. Our paths will cross. Let¡¯s hope this is on winning terms. The cultists will pay for what they have done.¡±


    I offered her the best smile I could. ¡°I will try my best.¡± I will not attempt suicide again.


    Rakash patted me on the shoulder. ¡°Return to the wagon. And, ah, don¡¯t get lost. Would be a shame to see you starve in the forest. See you around.¡±


    With that, she turned towards the endless landscape of the wastes and began the trot. She walked and walked, never looking back. I could have watched her for the next half an hour, and her figure would still have been visible in the distance.


    A sore taste welled up in my throat. Was it foolish of me to call Rakash a true friend? A trusted friend, one who didn¡¯t make fun of me behind my back or see me as a tool for reputation. It sure felt like I had lost a true friend.


    I better get back¡­ I thought. As Rakash warned, time must have been running out. I stood and haphazardly climbed back to the forest we came from. Feeling both calm and empty at the same time, I trotted towards the wagon.


    Not long into the trip, I became aware of the fact that I had, yet again, made more promises towards magehood.

 28: Bored Goddess

    ¡°This is bad, correct?¡± Akona asked. ¡°Your apostle is in trouble.¡±


    Goddess Akona sat inside the crescent-moon hammock. She had succumbed to the temptation and formed her own humanoid figure. Her person followed generic beauty, as if to compete with Shiela¡¯s appearance. Luscious and sparkling purple hair, a slim figure with exaggerated shapes in the areas most arousing. Her gown was even less creative, the design directly stolen from Queen Xastur¡¯s tailor. And to make sure the dress qualified as a Goddess¡¯s outfit, Akona added a sparkling glimmer to the fabric and called it a job well done.


    ¡°I am reluctant to admit, but you are correct,¡± Shiela said. ¡°It is impressive how many incorrect decisions Cillian has convinced himself into.¡±


    ¡°You intended for him to use the system, correct?¡± Akona asked. ¡°To train his magic under your assistance, so he could defeat the evil mage. He has barely leveled up in the slightest.¡±


    ¡°No, I spent all my effort developing the system to be used as decoration,¡± Shiela said. ¡°It would be mighty foolish for a Goddess¡¯s apostle to actually use the powers provided.¡±


    ¡°Was that what the humans call sarcasm?¡±


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± Shiela said. ¡°You have figured me out.¡±


    Akona formed a hateful grimace, then sighed. She likely intended to express simple disapproval, though Shiela forgave the incorrect use of human expressions.


    ¡°My argument is victorious,¡± Akona said. ¡°Your actions were a mistake. You and your apostle should disengage, and you are to find a real purpose as opposed to pestering established worlds.¡±


    ¡°You seem just as eager to watch the situation, despite your complaints,¡± Shiela said.


    ¡°My powers are taken by the upkeep of a full moon,¡± Akona said. ¡°Unlike you, I am not what the humans would call a jobless Goddess. I am entirely free to spend my excess energy on observation.¡±


    ¡°My efforts are preoccupied with saving your ecosystem from destruction,¡± Shiela said. ¡°Do not belittle me yet. You should know, through your observations, that my worries for this world are entirely valid.¡±


    Akona expressed agreeable worry, forgetting her human expressions. ¡°This evil mage¡­ He is indeed on a path to abuse our magic for far more than Carillia intended.¡±


    ¡°Which is why the concept of omniscient magic is nearly always a bad idea,¡± Shiela said.


    ¡°If magic is not given to the humans¡¯ disposal, nuclear reactions and beyond are always available for invention,¡± Akona said. ¡°Magic is an ideal tool for distracting the creatures. Your apostle¡¯s homeland is a fitting example of a disaster on the other end.¡±


    ¡°Magic is only a distraction for as long as the consequences of magic itself aren¡¯t disastrous,¡± Shiela said. ¡°Carillia himself might be in danger.¡±


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    Akona failed to disagree. They could both see it. The mage who called himself Azetoth (and whom Akona referred to as the ¡°evil mage¡±) was on his way to discover a fatal flaw in the design of Carillia¡¯s magic. Shiela¡¯s apostle had little time to put a stop to this all. If Cillian made more poor decisions, he could instead expedite collapse.


    ¡°What does the apostle require?¡± Akona asked. ¡°You are the one who planned his journey. What is it that he needs to achieve?¡±


    ¡°I did not plan his journey in the slightest,¡± Shiela said. ¡°Fate is not an element of journeys I condone forcing on apostles. I simply gave him overtuned tools to deal with the issue at hand. However, seeing as my apostle is not using my magic at all, the future of your world is difficult to predict.¡±


    ¡°That was a lie,¡± Akona said. ¡°You planned his journey as thoroughly as any Goddess. Tied with fate or not, you knew with all clarity that a pampered Earthling would be traumatized by the experience you offered. You also know exactly what Cillian requires to defeat the evil mage.¡±


    ¡°First and foremost, he must use the tools available,¡± Shiela said. ¡°Without the assistance of my magic, he will never learn the intricacies of Carillia¡¯s magic. Never. He will succumb to what you call the Corruption long before his inexperienced teacher has the slightest hope of teaching him honest weaving. A cruel fate will befall him if he refuses more of my assistance.¡±


    ¡°The Corruption was created to incentivize responsible use of magic,¡± Akona said. ¡°A goal in which we have mostly succeeded. You cannot claim this is a cruel system. Your apostle suffers entirely because of your trickery.¡±


    ¡°I did not expect him to fear my system like such,¡± Shiela said with a genuine sigh. This was a mistake on her part; she could admit as much. Although, mistakes were often the most interesting to observe.


    Akona stared at Shiela¡¯s figure. ¡°There is one more issue you are not addressing. That is, your apostle might be entirely right.¡±


    ¡°On which one of his deductions?¡± Shiela asked.


    ¡°His friends,¡± Akona said. ¡°The adventurer group will not accept his overtuned powers. His noble teacher will see herself betrayed, deeming her student as a possible threat. Your apostle cannot simply reveal his powers, not when you blocked him from the natural explanation of revealing his identity as an apostle. His friends will be far too dumbfounded by his abilities.¡±


    Shiela rested her chin on her hand. ¡°Cannot is an understatement. Depending on the context of when he reveals his abilities, his friends will likely deem him a witch and imprison him if nothing else. I was hoping the Gorthorn would take his side in trusting the weirdness of his abilities, but she, too, has disappeared.¡±


    ¡°You say this with such solemnity?¡±


    ¡°As I mentioned, I did not expect my apostle to make so many poor decisions.¡±


    Akona blinked, expressing the purest bafflement towards Shiela¡¯s decisions. ¡°What you are saying is that your apostle has thoroughly lost.¡±


    ¡°He has lost the upper hand,¡± Shiela said. ¡°However, he has not lost yet. Cillian is a man of clever solutions. I place my trust in his ingenious nature.¡±


    Akona frowned. ¡°I do not believe this proclamation could possibly be honest.¡±


    Shiela grinned. ¡°We will see. And we will watch. There is nothing more enthralling than to play with the worlds of slumbering Gods, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    The Moon sent her usual waves of disapproving emotions, the frown on her human face deepening still. Yet despite their arguments, both Goddesses were caught red-handed in observation a minute later, staring intently at the fate of a certain horse wagon approaching the human city of Arkber.


    From the western capital city of Vulusen, the flying figure of a teacher followed at a dangerously quick pace.

 29: Rituals

    ¡°Uhm, I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said to my team. ¡°I acted rashly. I didn¡¯t mean what I said.¡±


    Our wagon thumped ever so slowly towards the next destination of future insanities. I¡¯d regrouped with the team in the forest not far from the wastes. They came looking for me and Rakash. Everyone, especially Remy, wore looks of pure concern, though the team returned to their regular selves by the time we made it back to the wagon. Our driver was ready to depart after losing a third of his pay to so-called ¡°cheaters.¡±


    Shena sat in the corner of the wagon, reading Rakash¡¯s letter for the umpteenth time. Remy stood around awkwardly, unsure how she should act around me. Some of her earlier doubts and concerns lingered on her expression. The team didn¡¯t fully believe I had changed. The same went for Darko, who sat on a barrel, resting his chin on his hand.


    ¡°I am sorry, too,¡± Darko said. ¡°I got carried away, insulting you. I would like to say I yelled at you for your benefit, but I really didn¡¯t need to be so rude about it.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s wrong,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you for yelling at me. And please, if I ever fall back down into a moping fit, yell at me some more. I needed the encouragement.¡±


    Darko raised his eyebrows. ¡°What kind of spell did Rakash place on you?¡±


    Compassion, I thought. There was no better way to describe it. Rakash¡¯s spell wasn¡¯t quite omnipotent, but it was certainly effective.


    ¡°I don¡¯t sense any magic on him,¡± Remy said. She pouted at me. ¡°More importantly, Cill, are you ready to learn? If you don¡¯t understand the very basics of magic by the end of today, I fear I have no choice but to cook your mana chords alive.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want that, by the way,¡± Shena said from the sidelines. ¡°Remy¡¯s cooking skills aren¡¯t nearly as practiced as her ability to bore you with lessons.¡±


    Remy sighed. ¡°Do you have to start insulting me again?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Shena said, staring at her letter. ¡°Just as I find one of them, they disappear again¡­¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t be helped,¡± Remy said. ¡°Rakash did have a point. Krose royalty isn¡¯t known for welcoming outsiders. I know with experience, having partied at their damn balls.¡±


    ¡°I hope your family wasn¡¯t as racist,¡± Shena said.


    ¡°Oh, they absolutely were, and still are,¡± Remy said. ¡°That¡¯s partly the reason why I pursue adventuring instead of marrying for House Ravilles¡¯ benefit.¡±


    Shena placed down the letter and sighed. ¡°All of our efforts so far exist to impress those very royals. Who is to say we wouldn¡¯t have done better by teaming with Rakash?¡±


    ¡°I can assure you, the royalty¡¯s help will be our best bet at saving the Gorthorns, Shena,¡± Darko said. He turned to me. ¡°Let¡¯s forget these problems for now. Cill is up and walking. I say you girls should stress the extent of his claims before he starts getting too cocky.¡±


    Sorry? I thought. Wasn¡¯t the goal to ease me into the adventuring lifestyle? What was this about?


    Remy grinned wide and said, ¡°I went easy on you last time. Will not happen again. You¡¯re learning whether you want to or not.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said with a slight bow. ¡°Please teach me.¡±


    The team looked at me as if I was insane. Darko grabbed me by the shoulders. ¡°You¡¯re serious, then? You wish to put an end to your moping fit?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I said. ¡°Should I not?¡±


    Darko grinned. ¡°This is the best news we¡¯ve heard all week. I¡¯m glad to have you.¡±


    I offered an awkward smile. Making promises was easy. Following through was hard. And currently, I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. In all honesty, I didn¡¯t feel any more relaxed than I did on my first day waking up in Huss¡¯s guild.


    But I wasn¡¯t moping. I was ready to put in effort. This alone made all the difference.


    ¡°What do we do, then?¡± I asked. ¡°Do I get straight to work? Learning and stuff?¡±


    Remy appeared excited by the idea. Darko, however, shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re both forgetting the most important ritual in keeping yourselves afloat. Before any hard work, is there something you must do?¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± Remy asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were religious.¡±


    ¡°No, I am not talking about prayers, although those can certainly help,¡± Darko said. He walked up to the barrels and opened the lid to the bread barrel. ¡°My important ritual involves stuffing this disgusting stuff down your mouths. Shena, cook up the pot. We¡¯re eating.¡±


    ***


    A puddle of guilt and doubt lingered in my head as I ate. I wasn¡¯t on the verge of losing myself like I was during my last meal, but my head wasn¡¯t brimming with happiness either. I judged this to be a quality of my personality. A strong will could keep me going, but some effort wouldn¡¯t automatically make me happy. Still, I finished my bowl quickly and didn¡¯t offer my thoughts a chance to brood.


    Darko was filling his third bowl and munching on his second piece of bread by the time I laid down my dishes. ¡°Then, Arkber,¡± he said, speaking as he ate. ¡°Our destination. We should arrive within thirty hours. The King¡¯s audience is scheduled to start in thirty-five hours. This is not nearly enough time for the preparations we need to make.¡±


    ¡°And the preparations are?¡± Shena asked.


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    ¡°Clothes, rumors, lies,¡± Darko said. ¡°All sorts of nonsense that I¡¯ll take care of. I ask all of you to be ready for what¡¯s about to come. Especially you, Cill. Your presence plays a crucial part in the audience.¡±


    ¡°Do I really have to negotiate with a King?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not just a King,¡± Darko said. ¡°But King Xastur¡ªthe goddamned Orc himself. The busy man who is currently on his way to lead the front lines in defense of the border. I¡¯m still not sure how exactly he saw us as candidates for the cultist job, but we are to prove he made no mistake. Let me ask you, Cill, how familiar are you with the Xastur lineage?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± I admitted.


    Darko chewed on a spoonful as he spoke. ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t tell you anything. Any knowledge about the King would scare you back into hiding.¡± He swallowed, then scooped some more. ¡°But I will anyway. The King is a war master and a fighter first and foremost. He is not a man who commands his army to charge into death. He is the man charging into death. And he always somehow survives. I¡¯ve heard he¡¯s large as a war horse, and as intimidating as the horse¡¯s shit. He didn¡¯t gain the throne by popular vote; he took it by forcing King Brevyll to resign.¡±


    ¡°Stop speaking with food in your mouth,¡± Remy said with a frown. She had already finished her smaller portion. ¡°Xastur is a controversial figure. Lesser nobility despises him, believing that a brute is not fit for the position of an elegant and intelligent leader. However, anyone slightly more observant recalls that Xastur was always a true nobleman, and a respected one at that. That¡¯s how he got the throne. Not only is he adept at war, he¡¯s a genius at manipulating the royalty¡¯s games. He runs the country like an omniscient crime syndicate.¡±


    Fantastic, I thought. I had to put my all into not regretting my decisions as I listened. The King sounded like a jerk who used his authority to gain his favor in negotiations, throwing off those weaker than him with intimidation alone. His type was the exact one I thoroughly hated during my old job.


    He was also the most important man in all of the country. A fucking King. And I was supposed to join an audience with him.


    ¡°With that in mind,¡± Darko said, ¡°I am proud to announce myself as a friend of Prince Vitek Xastur, who happens to be our gateway into this mission. And to remind you girls, I am not seeking the mission for the pay and glory involved. I am serious when I say my plan requires the royalty¡¯s assistance. This includes access to the Royal Treasury and its artifacts.¡±


    He gulped down the rest of his vegetable slop, then placed down the bowl with a questionable amount of force. He stood up and stretched his body. ¡°We will talk more in Arkber. For now, I¡¯m running ahead a little. Arrangements need to be made.¡±


    Remy raised her eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re running? Where?¡±


    ¡°To Arkber, as I said,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯ll find the wagon when you get there, don¡¯t worry. Cill, take care of the girls. If Remy stirs you to anything resembling witchhood, report to me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re running to Arkber?¡± Remy asked. ¡°How much is that, sixty miles?¡±


    ¡°A good jog, I¡¯d say. See you there.¡±


    After the dialogue that I presumed was sarcasm, Darko hopped off the moving wagon and took off running, startling the horses as he jolted past. The three of us watched after his figure in silence. His pace was easily double, if not triple, of our wagon.


    ¡°Uhm, he was serious?¡± I asked. ¡°Does he do that often?¡±


    ¡°Men with vigor-fueled muscles are amongst the fastest beings alive, right after mages who learned flight,¡± Remy said. ¡°We¡¯ll meet him in Arkber.¡±


    ¡°And yes, Darko does this often,¡± Shena said. ¡°Nobody can guess what goes on inside his head. I believe he picks the weirdest and dumbest possible solutions to his problems and executes the ideas to the extremes, and always without thinking. In this case, he wanted to get to the city ahead of schedule.¡±


    I watched as Darko¡¯s head dipped behind a hillock ahead. I let out a laugh and said under my breath, ¡°Shiela be damned¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Remy asked. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing,¡± I said.


    Remy looked concerned. ¡°Are you okay? You look a little pale.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to keep up, won¡¯t I?¡± I asked. ¡°My promises won¡¯t be kept easily.¡±


    Soon enough, we¡¯ll be fighting more cultists, I thought. I¡¯ll have to cast more magic, break more laws. Train so I can fight more cultists. And I had to damn agree to all this.


    Remy smirked. ¡°I must agree with that. But it¡¯s not Darko who you have to keep up with. None of us can stay behind that maniac¡¯s trail. Who you really need to keep up with is me. And with the distraction of our leader gone, you have no excuses not to pay attention to my teachings.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°I will try my best.¡±


    Remy nodded. She paced around the wagon for a few circles, thinking. She picked up her staff and turned to me. ¡°My old teacher loved to use a spell to force me to pay attention. I wasn¡¯t exactly happy about her methods at the time, but in hindsight, I must admit the spell was effective. So be warned, Cill. You are about to witness the same trick.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± I said, facing Remy.


    She pointed her staff at my face. I flinched as the staff glowed. Water spurted from the orb, shooting straight at my face and clothes. I jumped by the sheer cold.


    Remy grinned like a little devil. ¡°It¡¯s freezing, I know. And it¡¯ll be cold for a long while. For as long as your clothes stay wet, you¡¯re obliged to pay attention. I will make sure you do.¡±


    I cursed inside my head, rubbing at the spots where the water was the coldest. This wasn¡¯t a spell to make me pay attention at all; it was a fucking attack!


    True to her words, Remy didn¡¯t go easy on me. The lessons lasted forever while our wagon rattled its way toward Arkber. I swore Remy had imbued her water spell with some magical nonsense to make it never dry. It got so bad I had to reposition myself under the remaining moonlight in hopes of drying myself faster.


    That wasn¡¯t to say I didn¡¯t pay attention. By the third hour, for once in my life, I truly felt as if the concept of magic was starting to make sense as a concrete element of life. Magic in this world wasn¡¯t simply a power that mages pulled out of their asses whenever they wished to do something cool. No, magic, or rather mana power, was a form of energy, kind of like electricity on earth. Difference was, in this world, humans could wield the energy to their will.


    The more I learned, the more I came to like Remy as a teacher. But not for the reasons one might think. She tried her hardest to be stern with me, but her methods of discipline were thoroughly useless. What actually made me pay attention was her genuine demeanor. Every time I got something wrong, she thought of how to explain better, sometimes arguing with Shena in between about each other¡¯s misconceptions.


    Whenever I finally understood the difficult concept of how mana reactions happened on a basic level, Remy beamed with pure excitement, clearly proud of herself for having made me a little smarter. The sensation was strangely addicting. I wanted to learn more, if only to see how far Remy¡¯s smiles would extend.


    This much I can manage, I thought. Magic isn¡¯t too bad. It might be a weapon. But only when used as a weapon. I can do this. I can keep my promise.


    Little did I realize, the real counterweight to drag down my confidence showed itself when the daylight moons lost their light, and blackness overtook the skies. It wasn¡¯t monsters in the dark or dead babies. It wasn¡¯t even a cultist ambush coming to assassinate us in our sleep.


    It was insomnia.

 30: Sleep Magic

    ¡°Morning, Cillian,¡± Shena said. She spoke softly to not wake up Remy. ¡°You look¡­ remarkable.¡±


    I forced myself to sit. Shena¡¯s face was a mess of blur and lines. My eyes had become one with the all-conquering headache. My brain weighed a ton; it took effort to not fall on my face and collapse by its force. I couldn¡¯t tell if I was tired or ill, but holy hell my head was a mess. I was just thankful the night was over, praying to Shiela I wouldn¡¯t have to live through that again.


    ¡°Nothing coffee can¡¯t fix,¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got tea if that helps,¡± Shena said.


    ¡°Overbrew it, please.¡±


    Shena pulled out her neat box with a teapot and cups inside. She got to work heating the pot with her staff, while I rested my forehead on my hand, too dizzy to pay attention to her craft.


    I had received the honor of the most luxurious bed of the group: a rough mattress laid atop casks and barrels. Never would I have thought I¡¯d prefer the bed of Huss¡¯s guild, but this little contraption was worse than any guest bed I had ever seen. The barrel heads poked at my back through the mattress, forcing me to move position every five minutes. The barrel by my head leaked odors of yeasty beer. By early morning, when the wagon began moving again, I could feel the liquid splash inside with every thump of the wheels.


    You know when you close your eyes and lie down on a perfectly still and unmoving bed, and your brain pulls that one trick on you? The one where the subconscious believes that the bed is about to flip over, sending you to the abyss below¡ªbefore realizing that, in fact, the bed is totally stationary.


    I felt that. The whole damn night, haunted by the same effect. Every time I closed my eyes, my brain swore I was falling. And I mean truly falling. Descending into the barrels, through the earth, and below. It was as if I was up there, on the balcony, still endlessly falling, terrified of the impact below.


    ¡°You should try sleeping with less clothes,¡± Shena said. ¡°It¡¯s more comfortable to lay down when it isn¡¯t so hot.¡±


    ¡°I was already cold,¡± I said. I looked down at my shirt, feeling strangely numb. ¡°This is the only outfit I have.¡±


    Water sizzled inside Shena¡¯s pot. ¡°Are your clothes important to you? Sentimentally, I mean.¡±


    What kind of question is that? I thought. But I decided to answer anyway. ¡°Yes. My shirt is. It¡¯s a cheap T-shirt. Nothing magical about it as you people believe. The symbols are just letters from my language. But¡­ This might be the only shirt of its kind in existence.¡±


    ¡°What does it read?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°Metallica,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a band. You know, musical performers.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Shena asked. With a wry smile, she said, ¡°Sing me a song. It¡¯s about time we wake Remy up.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Gods. How had my tired ass brought the conversation here? ¡°I don¡¯t think their songs have much singing. They¡¯re more of a growling type band.¡±


    Shena raised her eyebrows. ¡°What does that mean? Performers that don¡¯t sing, but growl?¡±


    A weak smile crept onto my face. ¡°My dad used to like them a lot. The shirt just grew too small to wear.¡± That, and he died.


    Shena laid her staff down and left the tea to brew. ¡°I recall my dad was into music performances too. But only if they were performed by the church. Always claimed he felt closest to the Moons when the horns blew.¡±


    I offered a disjointed breath as an acknowledgment, hoping it was enough. I didn¡¯t know why I was even speaking about this. There was no way I would ever hear modern music ever again. Except, perhaps¡­


    ¡°There is one way I could show you what Metallica sounds like,¡± I said. I had one of my dad¡¯s old concert videos downloaded on my phone. ¡°Only¡­ The device was stolen by the cult. It could very well have burned.¡±


    ¡°Just another reason to punish Azetoth for his crimes,¡± Shena said. ¡°We¡¯ll retrieve it. That¡¯s a promise.¡±


    A few minutes of brewing later, Shena offered me a hot cup of tea. She suggested I wait for it to cool and had apparently brewed it for three times longer than it was meant to, but I ignored both warnings. The boiling heat and the tea¡¯s bitterness were all I had to wake me up for what I could only assume would be a long day.


    Remy still lay cuddled in her blanket on the wagon¡¯s floor. She had wrapped herself inside it to compensate for the lack of cushions. There was no way I was about to wake her up. It was too early to get back to magical study.


    ¡°Remy tends to sleep in,¡± Shena said. ¡°Don¡¯t be alarmed. And certainly don¡¯t take this as an example. She usually wakes up when she hears me insulting her from outside the wagon. If that doesn¡¯t work, we might have to start spouting magical formulas. That will wake her head right up.¡±


    ¡°How do you two sleep?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think I was out for two hours.¡±


    Shena poured more water into the pot, preparing another batch of tea. ¡°Remy stayed up most of the night practicing magic and relearning the basics. She¡¯s putting more than her all into teaching you. I have to commend her efforts.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°I thought she was sleeping outside?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Shena said. ¡°The lack of sleep is a common symptom of the disease called adventuring. Everyone but Darko suffers from it severely. And I don¡¯t blame us. We all witnessed death yesterday, and Remy is teaching someone for the first time, illegally. Combine those worries with the lack of a proper bed, and it¡¯s only natural for our bodies to beg for a switch of lifestyle.¡±


    I glanced at my teacher¡¯s sprawled posture. Remy breathed through her mouth, hair messy from moving around in her sleep, but otherwise appeared normal. Could she really be anxious about all this, just as I was?


    I turned to Shena. ¡°You must have stayed up too. Since you know what Remy was up to.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± Shena said. ¡°Someone has to make sure we aren¡¯t ambushed at night. But it¡¯s alright. I have invented a spell to cure myself from the problem of sleep.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I asked, lifting my head. ¡°Can I learn it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Shena said. ¡°The spell doesn¡¯t exist. It¡¯s tea and stubbornness keeping me awake.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I said.


    ¡°Still, I wasn¡¯t entirely lying,¡± Shena said. ¡°Mages are naturally more energetic than regular uncursed humans. This is a result of all the mana flowing through our chords. Speaking of mana, I have a question for you. What is the most important thing you learned from Remy yesterday?¡±


    ¡°Most important thing?¡± I pondered for a second. ¡°That water dries faster when susceptible to the sun? The moons, I mean.¡±


    Shena gave me a look. ¡°The second most important thing?¡±


    I sighed, then got thinking. It was far too early for magical nonsense. ¡°Mana reactions, then?¡±


    Shena nodded. ¡°Recite what you learned for me.¡±


    ¡°Mana is not a physical matter,¡± I said. ¡°In fact, mana can¡¯t be interacted with at all by non-magical beings. To regular humans, the mana in my chords is the same as not real.¡± So, in Earth¡¯s scientific terms, mana had no mass to it. It didn¡¯t consist of atoms and other scientific properties. Instead, it consisted of some otherworldly bullshit I didn¡¯t yet understand. ¡°This means that my mana chords, despite not being large at all, can hold an incredible amount of energy. Energy that can all be turned into physical power when mana transforms into magic.¡±


    Grumbles came from the floor. Remy sat up and rubbed her eyes, then stared somewhere in my direction. ¡°No, that¡¯s wrong,¡± she said. ¡°Your mana chords are not not large. Mana chords exist only in the realm of powers, just like mana. If your chords had a physical size, they would be humongous, like a mountain.¡±


    Shena let out a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m impressed. You¡¯ve learned well, Cill. Keep up the good work. And next time, when Remy is asleep, make sure not to sound so nerdy about magic.¡±


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    ***


    Having passed through the segregating walls of Arkber, Darko found that most of his arrangements consisted of blowing through his remaining wealth to prepare Cillian for the upcoming audience.


    On top of the usual mundane arrangements always done when visiting a city¡ªsuch as booking a stay at a suitable inn in the bad part of town¡ªhe had spent half of his team¡¯s remaining fortune bribing shops to skip lines. The second half was lost renting public facilities for private time to lecture Cillian. So far, everything had passed smoothly.


    All that remained was the final reservation. To meet up with the Prince, and to confirm that three years apart hadn¡¯t changed Vitek into a boring old man.


    Darko strolled on paved paths amongst silver fountains. The park-like avenue was maintained to a condition only seen in the most affluent of neighborhoods. Streetside greenery was trimmed into various shapes, tree branches lined with colorful strips of silk. There was no festival; this was simply how Arkber appeared inside its exclusive walls. This was the paradise only available to those whose pockets were deep enough to qualify as aristocracy.


    He scanned the surroundings for signs of an idle Prince, spotting nothing but smiles and frowns of the wealthy. Gowned women were carried on palanquins by uniformed servants. Everyone, including children, dressed better than Darko, the lone hooligan in adventuring gear. He had been questioned about his presence by city constables twice within the last hour. Each time, he had to wave his papers of authority that proved he had an audience with the King later that evening. The constables were forced to let him go, but not before suggesting that he wear some proper clothes.


    Darko didn¡¯t mind the nobility¡¯s questioning glares, oppressive as they may have been. He was looking for a specific grin of a man he knew. He was told he would find Vitek on Westwind Avenue.


    The Prince was nowhere to be seen. Darko doubted he had the wrong location. This was where Vitek promised to meet.


    Old worries resurfaced in his head. The same doubts proposed by his team regarding this idea. His plan to request royal assistance was ambiguous at the very least, and only possible because of the royalty¡¯s shortage of troops. Mages and vigor users alike were stationed at the border. Due to the war, few competent fighters were available to eradicate crazies like Azetoth.


    Thus, Darko wished to make himself available. Royal help would allow him to maneuver around cities freely without having to worry about financial problems. Working with royalty ensured that opportunities wouldn¡¯t be missed due to lawful reasons.


    Mainly, however, Darko required firepower. His current skills and equipment were not nearly enough to duel Azetoth.


    Just as his head was slowly drifting towards the ground, lost in thought, Darko spotted him. Sitting on a streetside branch, a buff blonde man in a full white suit, covered by a gold-embroidered cape. The hilt of his sheathed sword was covered in more intricate glyphs than even Darko¡¯s already ridiculously modified glyphsword.


    The man unsheathed his sword. Grinning wide, his body filled up with vigor. He swung down, the blade pointed convincingly at Darko¡¯s head.


    The swing was slow, like a playful snowball tossed at a child¡¯s head. Darko raised his sword for the block with little effort. Prince Vitek landed gracefully on his feet, swords touching. The display gave pause to concerned passersby.


    ¡°I thought murder on public streets was forbidden,¡± Darko said with a frown, keeping his sword up.


    ¡°I¡¯m doing service for my country, that¡¯s all,¡± Vitek said. ¡°Had my blow successfully cut you in half, my father and I would have saved a great deal of time thinning out weak contenders.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯m sure little Thompson over there would have been enthralled by the results.¡± He glanced at a witnessing child, whose eyes were wide in awe and bewilderment at the sight of two active glyphswords. The bystanders¡¯ shock was slowly turning to amusement as they assumed this was a play.


    ¡°Oh, stop complaining,¡± Vitek said. He sheathed his sword. ¡°We both knew you would block that excuse of an assassination attempt. Forgive me for ever attempting to create an interesting reunion.¡±


    Vitek was just as Darko remembered. This type of nonchalant idiocy could only be seen in a Prince last in line. Darko ignored his hopes to grin as he retreated his weapon. A Krose reunion wasn¡¯t about smiles; it was about the strength of one¡¯s scowl.


    ¡°Your father still sees you as the man for the cultist job?¡± Darko asked. ¡°I was sure they¡¯d replace you with someone stronger.¡±


    Vitek shared the serious look. ¡°I am in charge indeed. The puzzle is whether you are competent enough to accompany me.¡±


    The two locked in a staredown. Passersby paused to watch, while the more impatient palanquins discreetly moved past. This likely wasn¡¯t the first time this street had seen a Krose reunion, though what Darko and Vitek were about to do was certainly impolite in the middle of the street.


    ¡°You better not have grown weak, old friend,¡± Vitek said. He held out his hand.


    ¡°Me? Weak? You¡¯re the one who is at risk of falling obsolete.¡± Darko accepted the hand and prepared for the worst.


    Both men filled with vigor as they squeezed each other¡¯s palms. Energy amassed in their respective hands like crackling bonfires. The Krose handshake was a game of power and control, a mix of defense and attack, to both ensure that one¡¯s hand wasn¡¯t blown into bits while squeezing the opponent¡¯s in an attempt to blow theirs.


    Vitek initiated with a serious amount of force, enough for Darko to take the game seriously. Darko stabilized the protective layer of vigor around his arm and hand, then pushed outward, into his opponent¡¯s hand. He pushed hard enough to startle the Prince into serious effort, but not enough actually destroy body parts.


    The game continued with grimaces and intense eye contact. A Krose handshake was a tool for introductions just as much as it was a competition for strength. After a back and forth of attack and defense, the squeeze hard enough to the crack bones of an ordinary human, Darko and Vitek reached an agreed stalemate. Their powers remained equal. This was their strength. Their show of alliance.


    Then, for what appeared out of nowhere to passersby, their expressions lightened. Both men erupted into laughter. They raised their arms and hugged wide, patting each other on the back.


    ¡°Hell fucking yes, Vitek.¡± Darko eventually released the hug. ¡°Feels so great to see your butt of a head again.¡±


    The Prince kept laughing. ¡°You should have seen my face when I heard you were a candidate for this job. That one dumb friend from my rebellious parties has been named the damn ¡®Wyvern Slayer,¡¯ and is now asking to assassinate a crazy cultist with my assistance. I admit, you are the last person I expected to ever work with in official terms.¡±


    ¡°I have to say the same,¡± Darko said. ¡°The alcoholic prince I got drunk with now proposes to hunt the very man my family has a grudge with.¡±


    ¡°That said¡­¡± Vitek sighed. He sat on a streetside bench, ushering Darko to follow. ¡°We¡¯ve got a myriad of problems and technical jitterings on the way. I hope you understand that a lot of obstacles block us from simply working together. Obstacles which I, unfortunate as it is, must acknowledge.¡±


    ¡°I was afraid this would be the case,¡± Darko said. ¡°I don¡¯t come without plans and proposals. What are the obstacles?¡±


    ¡°For one, my father is disinclined to place royal resources on a bunch of adventurers,¡± Vitek said. ¡°He wishes me to work with reliable sources. The truly strong allies of royalty. And this is in no way an insult to your strength, but I am inclined to agree. As much as I would love to work with a friend, I require results more than I do leisure. I¡¯ve been a useless fifth child for long enough. It¡¯s about time I start racking up achievements.¡±


    ¡°You came to decline my offer, then?¡± Darko asked.


    Vitek paused. ¡°You could say that. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Yet, you and your father have agreed to hold an audience,¡± Darko said. ¡°You clearly see potential in my achievements.¡±


    ¡°About that.¡± Vitek crossed his legs, uncomfortable. ¡°Father has been¡­ pondering over the decision. Our schedule has proved to be tighter than anticipated. Father no longer deems it necessary to hear your proposal. He finds Daphine¡¯s history of achievements impressive, compared to an up-and-coming adventurer¡¯s. Your progress in the cultist hunt is respectable, so far, but a few minor victories are not enough to convince him. I am sorry to say this, but I don¡¯t think we can work together this time around, as much as I would love to.¡±


    Darko raised his eyebrows. The King wouldn¡¯t hear him out? What the hell was this? In what world were Daphine¡¯s results impressive? The woman was trained in the military, sure, with a history of great success, yet her results in the cultist hunt were commendable only in the way toddlers were praised for successfully stacking blocks.


    No. Darko wouldn¡¯t accept this. He knew for a fact that his plan was far more effective than any of the other contenders¡¯. ¡°I was under the impression that you wished to work under the best chances of victory. You will follow the best proposal in cutting off Azetoth¡¯s head.¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± Vitek said. ¡°Which is why I intend to work with my father¡¯s allies. Maybe¡­ Perhaps you could be involved to work alongside us, but to follow your plan as the primary method¡­ This simply is not going to happen.¡±


    ¡°Vitek,¡± Darko said, staring the Prince in the eyes. ¡°Why do you think I¡¯ve traveled all this way to ask for royal assistance? Do you really think I¡¯m here just to snatch you off for fame and money? No. I am here because I have formed a plan to defeat Azetoth. I have a solution to end the cult for good, and for my plan to proceed, I require resources. I would not ask for assistance if my plan didn¡¯t need it.


    ¡°I will remind you that, despite being a lowly adventurer, I am the man who has single-handedly cleared three major cultist operations without assistance. All I am asking for is a quick audience because I wish to prove that Daphine¡¯s approach to dealing with cultists is criminally inefficient.¡±


    Vitek frowned. ¡°I find that hard to believe. Even if you¡¯ve got a genius plan brewed up, my father is impossible to budge once he¡¯s set his mind.¡± He tapped his foot, thinking. ¡°If you are serious, I don¡¯t think any miracle short of subduing Arkber¡¯s cultist problem before his departure will help to convince Father.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I believe I will do just that.¡± Darko stood up, putting on a serious face. ¡°Tell your father that he isn¡¯t canceling shit. I¡¯ve got an audience, and I prepare to put it into use, even if the King can spare me less than two minutes.¡±


    Vitek faced his look and sighed. ¡°Very well. I will convey your message. But don¡¯t expect Father to care.¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°Thank you, Vitek. I am glad to see you again, truly. We will meet again this evening.¡±


    With that, he turned around and walked off. He bit his lip when out of sight. This was not at all how he wanted the talk to go. He had wished to warn Vitek of Cillian¡¯s presence, to offer the Prince a heads up for the lies Darko was about to spout. Instead, it seemed he would not only have to lie to the King but to the Prince as well.


    Sighing inside his head, Darko headed back towards the tailor shop, knowing that his team would soon arrive. The plan was progressing well enough in theory. The audience with the King was mostly secured. Darko¡¯s achievements, though apparently not enough, were acknowledged, and the rumors of Darko the Wyvern Slayer were spreading.


    Yet, one worry in his head kept resurfacing. Would Cillian be in any state to play along with Darko¡¯s lies?

 31: The City of Lost Thieves

    ¡°Not only does your analogy not make sense, what you¡¯re trying to say is also incorrect,¡± Shena said. ¡°Salmon carps have nothing to do with the transformation of mana. It¡¯s no wonder Cillian doesn¡¯t understand a thing you¡¯re saying.¡±


    ¡°Shena, for the love of whichever screwed-up Moon you worship, shut up!¡± Remy said. ¡°I don¡¯t care how your self-taught method explains mana transformation. My method is how every normal person learns to weave mana. The salmon carp analogy is the simplest instruction to get Cillian imagining the right things.¡±


    I leaned on my arm and stared at the sprawling ghetto outside our wagon. An orange-tinted cloudy sky of an early evening covered the globe. The dirt path had evolved into far bumpier and more uncomfortable cracked cobblestone. Fenced-off tenements and shops surrounded the street. Buildings were constructed at a comfortable distance from each other, while stalls and tents crammed between. The alleys grew more cramped as we traveled closer to the city.


    I paid attention to the argument with half an ear. My memory was more than tangled with unprocessed magical knowledge that had yet to set home in long-term memory. Nobody was supposed to learn as much as I had today. The sheer amount of information was slowly souring even the girls¡¯ moods.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s time for a break,¡± Remy said, sensing I wasn¡¯t following. ¡°It¡¯s risky to mention magic inside the city, considering the state of our relationship.¡±


    Most building facades beside the main road were of wood. The lucky few had painted walls with tile roofs, but the neighborhood was by no means wealthy. Our path was dusted free of sand and garbage, but the whole place was well overdue for renovations.


    Remy pulled the frontmost tarp open for a better view, past our driver and the horses. The mixed traffic ahead was just cramped enough to slow the horses to a walking pace. ¡°Arkber,¡± she said. ¡°The City of Lost Thieves.¡±


    Ahead of us, half a dozen marble spires loomed from behind a stone wall. The spires¡¯ reflective surfaces cast apathetic glares at the slums like the beacons of a lighthouse. I knew immediately that the wall wasn¡¯t built to protect the city from invaders. It was built to protect the wealthy districts from their poorer counterparts.


    ¡°City of Lost Thieves?¡± I asked. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Locals claim the name comes from the hopeful thieves who lose themselves in the hope of swindling the Royal Treasury,¡± Remy said. ¡°They say the slums were constructed as hideouts for thieves looking to scour the walls for weaknesses, to rob the treasuries inside. Everyone else knows the locals to be liars. The thieves aren¡¯t lost at all. They¡¯re all busy killing each other and pickpocketing to pay off drug debts.¡±


    Remy closed the curtains and turned back to face me. ¡°Watch your pockets, Cill. Kroses Sol might be known as a safe country, but even the best cattle leave sour scraps. Arkber has long kept the role of a rotting piece of land nobody wants to enter. The mess that no House wishes to fix.¡±


    Despite the warnings, the streets were free of active brawls. No suspicious hooded stares covered dark alleys, and no cultists jumped to attack me. In fact, most bystanders, ragged as their appearances were, wore smiles on their faces. Children played behind fences, while stalls saw customers.


    The glance of a woman at a window was directed at our wagon. At me. I quickly withdrew my head back to the comfort of our wagon, startled by her look.


    I promised to give this my all, I thought. The phrase had become almost like a mantra I had to repeat to avoid falling back to my fears. I intended to keep my word, though I had yet to decide the extent of my goals. Did I simply wish to learn the ways of magehood and call it a life, or did I also have to become comfortable with the more awful parts of the adventurer¡¯s lifestyle?


    I didn¡¯t know, but I knew no goals would be achieved easily.


    For the next few minutes, the girls argued with the driver about where they were supposed to meet Darko. Nobody seemed to have a clear idea, but the driver¡¯s stubbornness overpowered the girls. Without room for debate, we parked at a canopied courtyard of what I thought was a hotel or inn. The driver collected payment from Remy, then got to work stabling his horses.


    Remy sighed. ¡°Darko said he would ¡®find the wagon.¡¯ Isn¡¯t our appointment scheduled in four or so hours from now?¡±


    ¡°Darko hates wasting time,¡± Shena said. ¡°More so, he hates when his underlings waste time. He¡¯s not going to let us sit around for long.¡±


    ¡°What do you think we¡¯re doing next?¡± Remy asked. ¡°The urn has long reached Darko¡¯s requested amount of souls. We are famous enough to be recognized in every guild across the country. Is there something he still needs to do?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine we¡¯re doing anything but meeting your royalty,¡± Shena said. ¡°But I¡¯m sure Darko has some nonsense brewed up. I can¡¯t say I¡¯m excited for either option.¡±


    For a moment, the wagon stayed in silence. I found myself sitting in my corner again, lost in thought. Nothing important. Just the same worries about my future again. For someone who used to call himself a businessman, I sure was skittish about all this. No matter how many promises I made, I found it impossible to get myself pumped up for the upcoming events.


    ¡°Cill, are you alright?¡± Remy asked. She looked uncomfortable. ¡°I noticed, um, you looked a bit low earlier. And, uh, still do.¡±


    I raised my head. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s a million things making me nervous. The city, Darko¡¯s plan, the King. And my lack of sleep. And I¡¯m not lying this time.¡±


    ¡°Have I been a good teacher?¡± Remy asked. ¡°Am I too bad at this, after all?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ve been great. Thank you. I¡¯m doing as well as I am only because of your help.¡±


    Remy didn¡¯t look as if she believed me but didn¡¯t argue.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for my remarks,¡± Shena said. ¡°You two would do a lot better if I wasn¡¯t complaining this whole time.¡±


    ¡°No, you two have nothing to do with my moods, okay?¡± I said. ¡°Please believe me, and don¡¯t blame yourselves. If anything, the few moments of not moping have happened only thanks to your support.¡±


    Neither of them knew how to react, and I realized I had probably revealed too many honest thoughts. I looked away.


    I appreciated that the girls cared for me. Of course I did, but I would have appreciated it more if they didn¡¯t speak about it. Coming up with excuses for depressive moods was just about the most embarrassing conversation topic available.


    Luckily, the awkward silence didn¡¯t last for a moment longer, as the sound of chatter outside approached our wagon.


    ¡°My father is a well-contacted man,¡± a woman said. ¡°Know that in case you attempt anything.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m attempting to buy clothes,¡± an unmistakable man¡¯s voice responded. Darko pushed aside the rear tarp of our wagon and spoke to the woman from over his shoulder. ¡°Do I have to pay extra still for you to not suspect me of murder?¡±


    ¡°I will apologize only after our business is done and I am back at work with my head intact,¡± the woman said. She glanced into the carriage from outside. Behind her, a burly man acted as an escort or bodyguard. ¡°Who is the subject in question?¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Give us a moment alone,¡± Darko said. He hopped into the wagon and closed the curtains behind him. He grinned. ¡°Greetings, my good friends. How was the trip?¡±


    ¡°Fantastic, for all but Shena¡¯s presence,¡± Remy said.


    ¡°Nothing unusual then,¡± Darko said. He spoke quietly, words masked by the horses¡¯ snorts and laughter from outside. ¡°How¡¯s our newbie? Have you been learning well, Cill?¡±


    ¡°Cill has been absolutely perfect,¡± Remy said. ¡°No grumbles or complaints. He has been learning well.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Shena said. ¡°He has stayed true to his word.¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡± Darko sent me a grin. I looked away in embarrassment.


    ¡°Everything looks good inside the walls,¡± Darko continued. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like the constables want to arrest us for the church burnings just yet. I¡¯ve booked us a stay at Sapphire¡¯s Inn. The inn will act as our meeting spot for the time we have.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s serious,¡± Remy said softly to my ear. ¡°Darko without jokes is not someone you want to mess with.¡±


    ¡°That said, we¡¯ve got serious obstacles all around,¡± Darko said. ¡°Girls, I need you two to locate a cultist establishment. We have to clear at least one before the audience.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Shena gushed. ¡°We¡¯ve got, what, four hours? You want to find and clear a cultist base in four hours?¡±


    ¡°Well, uh,¡± Darko said, rubbing his cheek. ¡°I sort of promised Prince Vitek that we would prove our competence by subsiding a cultist operation or two before the King has time to send the Prince on his merry way right under Daphine¡¯s teamwork.¡±


    ¡°You promised what?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°We need to capture a few officials, that¡¯s all,¡± Darko said. ¡°If you could locate one of their hangouts, that would be great.¡±


    ¡°This might just be impossible,¡± Shena said with a sigh. ¡°But I will try.¡±


    Darko nodded, then turned to me. ¡°Remy. I¡¯m borrowing Cill for a while. You¡¯ll have him back by tonight.¡±


    Remy raised her eyebrows. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°I believe I am,¡± Darko said.


    ¡°Learning this particular subject is a full-time occupation with repercussions for failure,¡± Remy said with a stern look. ¡°You can¡¯t just borrow him whenever you please.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve had days already,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯m sure our newbie will be taught better after a break. I need to teach Cill some things of my own.¡±


    Remy gave us both a look, then sighed. ¡°No more than a few hours. We¡¯ll need to start for real by the end of today.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t started for real yet?¡± Darko asked.


    ¡°Cill¡¯s chords were exhausted,¡± Remy said. ¡°And his knowledge in the field is still far too lacking. Practical attempts can only start once he truly understands what he¡¯s getting into.¡±


    Darko bit his lip, then said, ¡°We better be quick, then. Cill, come with me. Your first mission is an easy one.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said, concerned. I sensed no opportunities to argue for a longer break. Without grumbles, I followed Darko out of the carriage.


    The sun-shaded courtyard was surrounded by stables on all sides. Most of the space was taken by parked carriages. In the middle, two plump men sat on a round table over coffee, studying our direction. I pretended they didn¡¯t exist.


    The woman waiting outside cast me a look. She was short-haired and in her mid-twenties, wearing a clean silk skirt and a rose-adorned jacket. By far the most lavish outfit I had seen in the city. ¡°This is the fellow?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I did mention I¡¯ve got a weird one,¡± Darko said. ¡°Think you can dress him up?¡±


    The woman approached with a serious look easily mistaken for a frown. I had no time to ask for introductions before she was picking at my clothes, examining every inch of my outfit and appearance, from my feet to the shape of my sweaty chin.


    ¡°Your shirt,¡± she said. ¡°Take it off.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Measurements,¡± she said. ¡°Or do you prefer jackets triple your size?¡±


    ¡°Uhm,¡± I said. I ignored my body¡¯s wishes of protest and took off my cloak and shirt.


    The woman pulled out a measuring tape and got to work tying it around various parts of my body. I hoped I didn¡¯t smell too bad. Most likely, my hopes were far-fetched. The last time I showered was light years ago.


    ¡°He¡¯s thin for a man,¡± the tailor said, speaking towards Darko. ¡°We tend to require extra for unique sizes. I¡¯ll deduct the fee from your¡­ earlier contributions. When do you wish to see your outfit? The less we have to hurry, the better the outcome.¡±


    ¡°I need the man dressed within two hours,¡± Darko said.


    The tailor scowled.


    ¡°However, I would prefer if you conjured some clothes right now,¡± Darko added.


    She took a deep breath. ¡°A tailored outfit is out of the question, then.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have anything that fits him?¡± Darko asked.


    She held my shirt, studying it. ¡°I could get him dressed. But I am afraid our selection for his size is bested in material by the fabric he currently wears. Two hours is not enough to modify an existing piece to fit him, let alone tailor an original piece. Anything to prepare him for a ¡®distinguished meeting¡¯ would require a fortnight at the very least. No amount of money can expedite this, lest you find a shop with a larger warehouse. I am sorry.¡±


    ¡°We are adventurers,¡± Darko said. ¡°Anything better than a worn-out garderobe carpet will cover him just fine. Preferably something that doesn¡¯t stand out.¡±


    ¡°We could cover this man in the most basic of brown tunics and he would still appear out of place,¡± the tailor said. ¡°Anything short of full coverage with a mask to cover his identity will stand out.¡±


    ¡°I need his face to show,¡± Darko said. ¡°Dress him as best you can. I leave my trust to you.¡±


    The tailor crossed her arms. ¡°I do not enjoy having promises placed in my mouth. But very well. I will find the best outfit I can.¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°Oh, also find him a staff. A crude one, but make sure it¡¯s real with magical properties.¡±


    The woman lifted her eyebrows. ¡°And in what depth of the sea would this man require a staff?¡±


    ¡°Costume party,¡± Darko said. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll pay for the service, just don¡¯t ask questions.¡±


    The woman sighed. ¡°Very well. Visit the store in two hours. I will have the outfit prepared.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Darko said. He pulled out a silver coin from his pocket and handed it to the woman. ¡°The price for silence. Your ¡®well connected¡¯ father will not hear of our transaction.¡±


    The woman stared at the coin, then at Darko. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± Darko said. ¡°I suspect we¡¯ll be famous here within the upcoming days.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re planning an attack, I¡¯m reporting you to the constabulary.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry.¡± Darko grinned. ¡°Meet you in two hours.¡±


    With one last suspicious stare, the woman was off along with her escorts.


    ¡°Well, then,¡± Darko said. ¡°Two hours. We¡¯ve got a lot of work to do, Cill. Let¡¯s not wait around.¡±


    He stepped out of the courtyard and onto the streets of Arkber. His nonchalant step expected me to follow, or I¡¯d be left behind. I put on my shirt and cloak with haste, then rushed after him, walking in his shadow.


    Eyes were already drawn to me and my appearance. Every other passerby wanted a glance, and there was nothing I could do to stop their prying eyes. Darko¡¯s self-righteous posture was all that protected me from a possible trampling crowd running my way.


    ¡°Ahh, Arkber,¡± Darko said. ¡°The absolute worst city in Kroses Sol by popular vote and reputation. The nightlife here is great, I promise.¡±


    I walked after him. My focus was spent on making sure I wouldn¡¯t be left behind. ¡°Who was that woman?¡±


    ¡°Just a tailor I snatched up,¡± Darko said. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to work with familiars.¡±


    ¡°And, uh, forgive me for asking, but why do I need a staff? Remy said I wouldn¡¯t need one in months.¡±


    Darko¡¯s face grew serious. ¡°Don¡¯t speak of that topic in public. You never know who¡¯s listening. And you never know who might arrest us if you reveal the wrong things.¡±


    I gulped and shut my mouth. My eyes wandered to Darko¡¯s feet.


    ¡°Keep your head up,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more at our destination. I¡¯ve rented a place to talk. I promise to reveal everything you want to know.¡± He paused. ¡°And when we get there, I¡¯ll offer you one last chance to reconsider your stay before your future is nailed to lies.¡±

 32: Wealth

    ¡°Before your future is nailed to lies.¡±


    I followed Darko deeper into the city, off the main street and up an inclined side alley. The scents of a well-used city hung in the air, ranging from wet wood to the nauseous smell of some chemical smoke. Vacant windows of multi-storied buildings overlooked us as Darko dragged me through a narrow garbage alley.


    You¡¯re the one who encouraged me to stay, I thought. You suggested I train with Remy. You warned me of the nobility¡¯s bullshit. Why, then, are you warning me to reconsider!


    The source of the chemical scent identified itself as we passed a group of men sitting by a stepped back door. One of them inhaled through a metal pipe, then blew a cloud of fog-like smoke. He grinned at me with dilated and wide eyes, clearly out of the world, enjoying life beyond. Darko passed them nonchalantly.


    ¡°The druggies aren¡¯t dangerous. Not after they¡¯ve smoked.¡± Darko frowned. ¡°Mist twists their heads into nonexistence. It¡¯s not uncommon to find people lying around without clothes, barely breathing.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± I said.


    ¡°In general, Arkber¡¯s alleys are mostly safe,¡± Darko said. ¡°Nobility has made certain that the city is precisely at the level of poverty where your average serf can afford meals and alcohol, but not much else. So that¡¯s what people do, work and drink. It¡¯s a shame the cult has been distributing cheaper alternatives.¡±


    We emerged into a wider street that bustled with more normal activities. People scurried to destinations. Others haggled with merchants. A sense of purpose could be felt within the people¡¯s actions. Nobody lounged idly, waiting for life to pick them up.


    Darko approached a larger wooden establishment by the side of the street. The pyramid-roofed building radiated authority through cleanliness amongst an otherwise sandy path. A strip of white canvas acted as a shop sign. I couldn¡¯t read the letters.


    ¡°Take off your shoes,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ve arrived.¡±


    ¡°My shoes?¡± I asked.


    Darko took off his boots and offered them to the portly bouncer. Darko spoke to the man with a familiar tone. ¡°You¡¯ve kept the place empty, I presume?¡±


    ¡°I have declined access to even the dirtiest of paying customers,¡± the bouncer said. ¡°As we agreed.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Darko said. ¡°Tell your staff and whatever pool guards to take a break. We will bathe alone.¡±


    ¡°Already done, as discussed,¡± the bouncer said. ¡°Treat yourselves. And don¡¯t attempt anything stupid.¡±


    ¡°I expect our shoes back wiped free of dirt and unbroken,¡± Darko said, then ushered me to follow.


    I offered my shoes to the bouncer and followed Darko inside. ¡°What is happening?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A quick bath,¡± Darko said. ¡°Rowdy as we adventurers are, we are expected to enter any royal property in clean outfits. And to avoid wasting time bathing, I thought I¡¯d rent the place for a private talk.¡±


    ¡°You rented a whole bathhouse just so we can talk?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What?¡± Darko asked with a grin. ¡°It pays well to perform heroic deeds. I, for one, prefer to invest cash where it proves immediately useful. The owners were more than glad to accept my coin.¡±


    Dumbfounded, I followed Darko past the vacant lounge and into the men¡¯s dressing room¡ªif the uncomfortably open chamber could be called a dressing room. No lockers lined the benches. Instead, clothes were left on simple hangers. Trust alone would keep our belongings safe.


    Darko didn¡¯t wait a second before undressing himself, starting from his sword harness. He left his gear casually on the bench. ¡°Well, then,¡± he said. ¡°The King¡¯s audience. We don¡¯t have much time, so I¡¯ll make this quick. As your leader, I will do most of the talking. If any questions are directed at you, I will do my best to deflect them back to myself. With bad luck, however, the King might wish to hear words through your mouth. I need you to figure out the important answers by the time we are clean and bathed.¡±


    Off came Darko¡¯s shirt, and I gulped. I would have to undress too, wouldn¡¯t I? I started untying my cloak.


    ¡°First, let me ask you this,¡± Darko said. ¡°Who is your teacher?¡±


    ¡°Remy?¡±


    Darko¡¯s eyes opened wide with an exaggerated motion. ¡°Remy? That is not a licensed teacher I have heard of. Could you mean, Remyer from House Ravilles?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I said. ¡°I think that was her name?¡±


    ¡°Aha,¡± Darko said. ¡°You¡¯ve just admitted to a criminal offense. Both you and your unlicensed teacher will be brought to court and punished.¡±


    ¡°No, wait,¡± I said. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Let me ask again,¡± Darko said. ¡°Who is your teacher? Have you been taught in your home country? Are you a learned mage, or are you susceptible the Corruption?¡±


    I paused with my mouth open. ¡°I am a student of, um, James Adamson from the town of America. I was taught, uh, spells and stuff, and was sent here for¡­ adventuring stuff?¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°Now that¡¯s more like it. Hone down your fake backstory, and make sure you don¡¯t stutter in the delivery. If you sound convincing enough, nobody will bat an eye.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± I asked. ¡°Do I really need a fake backstory?¡±


    I watched as Darko took off the last of his outerwear, his clothes sprawled haphazardly across the bench. ¡°Do you remember when I said your presence is useful in negotiations? What I really referred to was your status as a wielder of Hallowed chords. A beginner as you are though¡­ Well, the King wouldn¡¯t exactly be impressed, seeing us carry around an illegally taught mage.¡±


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    ¡°You want me to pretend I¡¯m a proper mage?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Darko said. ¡°Under no circumstances should you reveal that Remy is your teacher. If anyone asks, you are a competent mage with years of practice behind your back, taught by this Jams Admson.¡±


    Biting my lip, I nodded. For a former businessman, this order should have been simple enough. I would gladly form a fake backstory if it meant I could stay away from any real conflict.


    I had hoped Darko, now only in his breeches, would stop undressing, but to my fears, the bottom layer of his clothes came off as nonchalantly as the top. He wore no towels to protect his privates and didn¡¯t seem to care for anyone looking. I put extra effort into maintaining my upward posture, never to glance down again.


    Darko looked down at my shorts, which were still very much on. ¡°You aren¡¯t bathing with those on, are you?¡±


    Frowning inside, I took off the rest of my clothes, revealing a rather unimpressive physique compared to Darko¡¯s muscles. I left my remaining possessions on the bench, trusting nobody would steal, and emerged into the bathhouse.


    The bath was by no means noble. Clear sand covered the floor, separated from the pool by a brick stepping. Columns held the tall wooden roof in place. What creeped me out was the stench of wet wood, as if we were in a rotting forest. Still, my sweaty body had long awaited anything resembling a shower. I stepped after Darko into the unheated pool in the middle of the room.


    ¡°I will remind you, what we just conspired is considered a crime,¡± Darko said. ¡°A severe one. If your true teacher ever gets revealed, you and Remy are both in trouble with the Mages¡¯ association. We¡¯re blatantly breaking the first law of the mages¡¯ Corruption, and on top of it we¡¯re lying about it to the King¡¯s face.¡±


    ¡°You mean, if I screw up with my lies, we¡¯re all as good as dead?¡±


    ¡°You two wouldn¡¯t get executed even if you are caught. Mages are far too valuable to simply throw away. You would both be punished through the Association¡¯s measures and likely tied to some sort of slave contract. Shena and I would probably be arrested alongside for good measure.


    ¡°I toss these warnings to remind you that a life under nobility is still very much available. I know that you aren¡¯t as accustomed to breaking the law as we are. My plan involves risks severe enough that I¡¯m obliged to remind you of your options.¡±


    I slouched down into the pool, my chin touching the water. Wasn¡¯t this almost comical by now? The number of insane decisions I had to make on a daily basis.


    ¡°Do we have to perform this plan?¡± I asked. ¡°Couldn¡¯t we just do normal jobs like regular adventurers? Can¡¯t we hunt cultists with other methods?¡±


    ¡°We could play normal,¡± Darko said. ¡°And we would fail. I¡¯ve known Azetoth for longer than anyone. He won¡¯t be defeated on a whim. And if you¡¯re asking me to drop the cultist hunt entirely¡­ No. I will not drop the mission. Not this one. The longer the cult lives, the more fucked this country becomes. I, for one, do not believe Daphine¡¯s meager attack force will have any chance to defeat the cult.¡±


    I stared down at the water, unsure what to say.


    ¡°If you decide to follow my plan,¡± Darko said, ¡°remember that lies are only illegal if we get caught. The unwritten rule of the Krose states that if a crime causes no bad consequences, it is no longer a crime at all. We are not murdering anyone. We are not stealing from anyone. We¡¯re simply refusing our member from succumbing to slavery. I do not plan on being caught, at least not before you¡¯re fully learned. By that point, our lies will be forgotten. The Association¡¯s job is to hunt rogue mages. They do not care about learned mages, no matter the path an escapee took to learn.¡±


    ¡°I would simply have to pretend to be a mage?¡± I asked. ¡°Would I have to perform spells?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, of course,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ll show your Hallowed chords to the King. That¡¯s proof enough of your abilities. As for the aftermath¡­ don¡¯t worry about it. You will simply focus on learning. I¡¯ll deal with the rest.¡± He paused. ¡°Oh, and I would be careful getting water in your mouth. There is no saying when the pool was last cleaned.¡±


    I jumped back to a sitting posture, my neck well above water level.


    ¡°In any case, I¡¯ve seen you in action,¡± Darko said. ¡°You appear like a weirdo outsider. Nobody can guess your nationality. This gives you an advantage. You don¡¯t play by our customs. Thus, nobody knows how to read your lies. I¡¯m positive about our success. You will not get caught to see slave contracts.¡±


    ¡°If I decline, I am guessing you will send me to the slave contracts regardless,¡± I said.


    ¡°Correct,¡± Darko said. ¡°The Houses are still your second option. Although, the nobility¡¯s slave contracts are far less harsh than the Mages¡¯ Association¡¯s¡±


    I took a deep breath. I had promised Rakash to try my best. Yet, was this the place my efforts deserved to be placed in?


    ¡°Do you really plan on involving me in missions?¡± I asked. ¡°To fight the cult?¡±


    ¡°I already have, haven¡¯t I?¡± Darko said. ¡°And I will again. So far, you have done a good job adjusting.¡±


    I sat in thought, while Darko scooped water with his hands to clean his hair.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t wish to confront a single cultist. But if it¡¯s just learning magic¡­ I can manage. If I have to trick a King, with your help, I can manage. I¡¯m determined to learn.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re already fighting,¡± Darko said. ¡°Everyone in this country, in this world, fights their own battles. I¡¯m proud of your progress.¡±


    ¡°You promised I could leave after I have learned my magic. I¡­ I¡¯m considering that.¡±


    ¡°I did indeed,¡± Darko said. ¡°And I won¡¯t blame you if you leave. Though I do remind you that the Azetoth¡¯s bunch is still after your head, and I doubt they will quit before someone takes them down.¡±


    ¡°I am practically dead weight, am I not?¡± I asked. ¡°It would be easier for you if I left.¡±


    ¡°Wrong,¡± Darko said. ¡°You are a liability only in your current state. In the future, after you have learned to wield your powers, you and your Hallowed chords will prove extremely useful, even if all you choose to learn are supportive spells. There is a reason why I sought you out on Huss¡¯s promise. Sacred magic is to black magicians what fire is to a forest. You are an extremely talented mage, Cill. Don¡¯t forget this.¡±


    I bit my lip. Darko may have been right. I wished I didn¡¯t need to agree with him. ¡°I promised Rakash I would do my best,¡± I said. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll make the same promise again. I will try my best. I promise to become useful, one way or another. Maybe I¡¯ll learn supportive magic, or whatever.¡± I hesitated. ¡°I¡¯ll regret this promise tomorrow, I know. When that happens, please push me back to my feet. Thank you in advance.¡±


    Darko smiled. ¡°This is why I¡¯m fond of you foreigners. You¡¯re all so uniquely weird.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That is to say, of course, and no need to thank me,¡± Darko said. He stood up and stretched. ¡°I think I¡¯ve conveyed what I wanted you to know. Let¡¯s go shopping for some clothes and get you ready for this damn appointment. There are a few more manners and customs I absolutely must teach you, along with more warnings regarding King Xastur.¡±


    I took a breath and followed him out of the pool. The withdrawals of opening up were already hitting. Not in the form of an adrenaline rush or panic, but a general feeling of pressure in my body, as if I had just attempted a long-practiced trick that I had given up years ago due to countless failures.


    I will regret this, I repeated, my brain as optimistic as ever.


    Still, something weird was happening in my head. I was concerned as hell, sure, but I didn¡¯t exactly feel depressed. For a moment, I thought as if I finally had a chance to accomplish something with my life.


    That was until Darko and I made it back to the dressing room, where the clothes and belongings we left on the bench had miraculously disappeared.

 33: My Belongings

    ¡°Cill¡­¡± Darko said, his gaze towards the empty benches. A single folded piece of parchment sat where our clothes and belongings used to. ¡°You didn¡¯t learn any spells of invisibility, did you?¡±


    ¡°No?¡± I said softly.


    ¡°No spatial manipulation tricks?¡± Darko asked. ¡°Remy, perhaps, taught you levitation?¡±


    ¡°Um, no?¡± I repeated, my heart starting to beat.


    Darko stared at me for a moment. ¡°Where the hell is our stuff?¡±


    I stood stiff and offered an oblivious shrug, hoping I somehow misunderstood the situation. Out of all the things we could see stolen, surely our clothes weren¡¯t what I¡¯d lost.


    Without my sling bag, without my dad¡¯s Metallica shirt, I had nothing. I owned literally nothing. The last of my memoirs from home, gone. I couldn¡¯t have lost those too, right?


    Darko picked up the parchment and revealed its notes. ¡°Ah, shit. We¡¯ve been swindled.¡±


    ¡°What does it say?¡± I managed to ask.


    ¡°I can¡¯t read,¡± Darko said. He took a large towel from the racks and tied it around his waist, then tossed another towel to me. ¡°This is bad. They took my fucking sword. And the invitation to the King¡¯s audience. Also whatever you kept in your satchel. I was too naive.¡±


    Blood rushed to my head as I tied the towel around my waist, reality slowly kicking in. This was really happening? Our goddamned clothes were stolen?


    I had nothing. Everything I owned. Stolen or destroyed, left behind in a world light years from here.


    Darko stepped to the eerily vacant lounge with a grimace. The burly bouncer was missing along with our shoes. In his place, two curious women peeked in from the front doors. They flinched at the sight of Darko, who walked topless with nothing but a towel to hide his privates, anger outright oozing out of his body.


    ¡°I¡¯d find a different bathhouse if I were you,¡± Darko told them. ¡°This one is operated by a bunch of thieving paint sniffers.¡±


    The startled women complied with haste and turned around, eager to get us out of their sight.


    ¡°These fuckers got us good,¡± Darko said. ¡°My sword alone is worth more than this collapsing trash hole of a bathhouse. The owners could abandon their careers and escape the city, and it would be well worth it.¡±


    ¡°What do we do?¡± I tried not to let panic show. Darko¡¯s anger made me uncomfortable.


    ¡°We can¡¯t chase them,¡± Darko said. ¡°The slums of Arkber have no walls or fences, and certainly no tolls for coming in and out. We have no chance of watching their escape. This letter could very well be a distraction for us to waste time. But I don¡¯t think we have any choice but to take the bait. We¡¯ll bring the letter to the girls, and we¡¯ll damn hope these thieves are dumb enough to offer us a second chance.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ how will we do that?¡± I asked. ¡°We have no clothes? We can¡¯t step out of here!¡±


    ¡°Of course we can,¡± Darko said. To prove his words, he stepped onto the streets through the front doors. With no shoes to protect his skin, body still dripping water, he ushered me to follow. ¡°We are in Arkber. Nobody cares. Now, we have to act quickly. The appointment is scheduled three hours from now.¡±


    ***


    I should not have made a single Shiela¡¯s damned promise, I thought, emotions ranging everywhere from despair for the future to the embarrassment of the present. My bare feet scraped against cracks in the cobblestone. I watched my step for debris and pebbles, or for anything else that could cut my feet.


    I held the towel in place with my hand to ensure that my only cover wouldn¡¯t fall off during the trip. The number of curious eyes from onlookers had doubled from half. Everyone and their grandma stared at me and Darko, as if we were some goddamned cartoon characters performing live action.


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    Luckily, the inn Darko had booked was closer than the walk from the courtyard. Somehow, the wooden inn was even less appealing in style than Huss¡¯s guild. The inn nailed the dangerous feeling of a building too far past its expiration date. We stepped inside.


    The plump innkeeper lounged behind his desk, watching over a vacant canteen. He yawned, then spotted us and fixed his posture.


    ¡°Are they here?¡± Darko asked.


    ¡°Room forty-three on the last floor,¡± the innkeeper said. He noted our lack of clothes, but Darko¡¯s demeanor was enough to dissuade further questions.


    With a nod, Darko moved to the stairs. I followed. The creaky steps didn¡¯t help my nerves. The girls¡¯ voices sounded through the walls as we stepped further.


    ¡°Booked a stay?¡± Remy said. ¡°That¡¯s what he said, wasn¡¯t it? I didn¡¯t expect him to book the entire inn for himself! Is this how you two usually operate?¡±


    ¡°It comes in handy with the bigger cities,¡± Shena¡¯s quieter voice said. ¡°More freedom to talk without neighbors listening in, so long as the innkeeper doesn¡¯t personally hire spies. However, this means we¡¯re often stuck with the cheapest residences. Renting an entire hotel gets expensive, no matter what we¡¯re paid.¡±


    Darko, frowning and without knocking, burst into the room. ¡°We¡¯ve got problems,¡± he said.


    ¡°Darko?¡± Remy stood from her seat. ¡°Cill? Where are your clothes?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly the problem,¡± Darko said. ¡°Turns out, my trusty strategy of bribing public services for private use was not so foolproof at all.¡±


    Shena gave us a look. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°The goddamned bathhouse robbed us,¡± Darko said. ¡°Took everything and ran while we were busy talking.¡±


    ¡°Everything?¡± Shena asked. ¡°Your sword? The invitation? Cillian¡¯s satchel?¡±


    ¡°All gone,¡± Darko said.


    For a moment, the two sides stared at each other in silence. The air was awfully heavy. ¡°Didn¡¯t you spend five years of savings on that sword?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°Seven,¡± Darko said. ¡°Including most of my pay from defeating that damned wyvern.¡±


    Shena plumped down on the bed and buried her face in her palms. ¡°And they took the invitation¡­¡±


    Remy remained standing with concerned eyes. ¡°Your clothes were stolen. Does this mean, Cill¡­¡±


    ¡°Neither of us now own a single outfit,¡± Darko said. ¡°Not unless Cill can conjure clothes from thin air.¡±


    ¡°I asked you to grab spares multiple times¡­¡± Shena said. ¡°Darko, you must understand that we are screwed, right?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly expect to be robbed at a Krose bathhouse so blatantly.¡±


    ¡°We are in Arkber!¡± Remy said. ¡°Of course you¡¯ll get robbed, leaving a glyphsword and fine clothes lying around. The question is, what now?¡±


    ¡°We require the invitation back, one way or another,¡± Darko said. ¡°The ¡®how¡¯ is another question. We¡¯ll have to get creative. Luckily, our assailants were kind enough to leave me with this letter. Read it out for me, please.¡± He handed the letter to Remy.


    After a quick scowl directed at Darko, Remy read, ¡°Wyvern Slayer Darko,


    ¡°We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience, and for forgetting to warn you of this terrible situation. The bench you have left your clothes on is infected by harmful lice. To avoid potential damage and inconvenience, we have relocated your belongings. Your items are stored at the old church warehouse in the district of Drybark. Please retrieve your items before nightfall.¡±


    ¡°How delightfully kind of them,¡± Darko said. ¡°Think of how terrible it would have been had my glyphsword been eaten by fucking lice!¡±


    Remy raised her head from the paper. Clear suspicion showed on her face. ¡°What¡¯s the chance this is honest? If I recall correctly, Drybark is known as the most secluded, most crime-intensive district of the city.¡±


    Darko leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, thinking.


    ¡°Um,¡± I said as an attempt to have a turn to speak. ¡°Will we get our clothes back?¡±


    ¡°That depends on just how eager our assailants are with their games,¡± Darko said. ¡°I believe I understand the gist of the situation. We¡¯ve got roughly three hours before the audience with the King. Shena, scout the area and figure out exactly who our assailants are, and what they¡¯re up to. Remy, Cill, you two will stay at the inn to watch over our remaining gear. Use the time for lessons, just as you would spend any excess time.¡±


    ¡°You want us to resume studying?¡± Remy asked. ¡°While Cill is dressed like that?¡±


    ¡°Neither of you will die from a short lesson without a shirt on,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯ll resolve the matter of outfits. I¡¯ll be back within the hour.¡±


    ¡°And how will you do that?¡± Remy asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got my methods,¡± Darko said. ¡°Don¡¯t trouble yourself. Shena, let¡¯s get moving. Time is limited.¡±


    Then, still wearing only his towel, Darko stepped out and down the stairs without looking back. The three remaining members exchanged looks. Shena shrugged, grabbed her staff and the robbers¡¯ note, then exited, closing the door behind her.


    ¡°What is wrong with this team?¡± Remy sighed.

 34: Sorry Day

    Aida Lowyll laid out the outfits that vaguely, by some skewed definition of the word, matched the oddest request of her career.


    She had picked three outfits, two of which she found at the bottom of the discard box they had yet to throw out. The clothes were sewn together as practice pieces by Aida and other apprentices and were far from any standard the store dared to sell. As subpar as they were, Aida doubted she would find anything better in the two hours she was provided.


    Sighing, Aida reclined on her chair and gazed at the bustling street through her glass window. This cramped room on the second floor was her proud private sewing room, lined with the best of lacquered hardwood equipment and metal needles. Aida was allowed to use materials and fabrics of quality she couldn¡¯t have dreamed of when she picked up the hobby of tailoring at the age of five.


    Four years she¡¯d spent in this little room, inside the walls of Arkber. Even now, she was still impressed by the architecture and design of the streets. Mansions, spires, the simplest of homes¡ªeverything inside the walls was just so grand.


    The same standard applied to the quality of products the aristocracy expected her to craft. Ball dresses, embroidered suits, whatever ornaments a noble wished to cover themselves with for next month¡¯s balls. Aida was by no means an expert, requiring frequent help from the masters, but she was proud of her progress.


    With each repetitive order to follow fashion trends, Aida was coming to think she¡¯d experienced it all during her four years. Yet, as was always the case, her customers proved her wrong.


    ¡°¡®Anything better than a worn-out garderobe carpet,¡¯ huh?¡± she muttered under her breath. ¡°I¡¯m putting too much effort into this, aren¡¯t I¡­¡±


    The third outfit in Aida¡¯s consideration was the craziest of all, and not intended to be worn at all, certainly not by men. It was one of Aida¡¯s creations. A midnight blue two-layered mage¡¯s robe (though without magical enhancements) that she crafted for her collection with her excess wages. She¡¯d poured all her inspiration into this robe, creating an abomination of techniques and materials, fit for some fictional race she had not yet identified.


    This won¡¯t do, Aida thought. The red-hair will be insulted if I offer a robe to a man¡­


    She placed the robe back into her private display rack when footsteps sounded from the back of the store. Aida fixed her posture and focused back on her work, appearing slightly busier than she already was. The door to her chambers creaked open.


    ¡°Master? Welcome ba¡ª¡±


    The man by her door was not her Aida¡¯s master, but a certain red-haired maniac, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Aida jumped from her seat.


    ¡°You!¡± she gushed, taking a step back. ¡°What are you doing here!¡±


    ¡°Hello, hello,¡± the man said. He scratched at his temple awkwardly. ¡°I¡¯ve arrived ahead of schedule. My apologies. I bring requests in need of urgent attention.¡±


    Baffled, Aida faced the creep. She reached for scissors on the table behind her. The red-hair had entered from the back, from behind locked doors where no customers had access to. Why was he up here! Arkber was supposed to be thief-free inside its walls!


    ¡°Uhm.¡± Aida¡¯s voice came out as concerned. ¡°Could you wait downstairs, please, while I finish the order?¡±


    ¡°I cannot, unfortunately.¡± The red-hair scratched his cheek awkwardly. ¡°My clothes have kind of disappeared, as you can see. It would not be proper to show myself to customers in this state.¡±


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    How did you get in! Aida wished to ask but didn¡¯t dare speak out loud. She found herself utterly trapped, too afraid to scream for help. How are you inside the walls!


    ¡°I am aware that I have broken into your shop,¡± the man said. ¡°And I do apologize. You can leave the scissors. I won¡¯t hurt you. I just need some damn clothes, and a lot of them.¡±


    Hesitantly, Aida left the scissors and showed both of her arms. ¡°You wish to pick up your order?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the red hair said. ¡°And some more on top of that.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Aida said, her tone still spooked from the intrusion. ¡°Let¡¯s start with your first order. I, um, these two were all I had time to find.¡± She offered the outfits to the red-haired man.


    With a concentrated frown, the man studied the leather trousers and the corseted vest of the first outfit. Quickly enough, he placed it down. He offered similar treatment to the second outfit. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else, they could do¡­¡±


    He observed them for a moment longer before his eyes found their way to Aida¡¯s display rack. He walked over as if he owned the place and grinned. ¡°Now, this would be phenomenal.¡±


    To Aida¡¯s horror, the man picked up the robe she had just deemed unfit. He examined its layers with curiosity. He tested the velvet cuffs, fiddled with the silver-embroidered sash, then said, ¡°This one better be for sale.¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± Aida said with an awkward laugh. ¡°You are free to have it. I would, um, be glad to offer it for a gold mark?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll pay a lot more than that,¡± Darko said. ¡°What about the staff?¡±


    Aida rushed over to where she¡¯d left the staff she prepared. ¡°This one, I received it from our sister store next door. It¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± the red-hair said, snatching it from her hands before she could finish. ¡°This will do. Now, if I could be so lucky, would you happen to have anything similar in resemblance to the vested outfit I wore earlier?¡±


    Aida stared at the man. ¡°You wish to buy generic adventuring gear? Our store¡¯s primary focus is to satisfy nobility for balls, not to fill guilds with harnesses.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯ve got nothing, a proper suit will have to do,¡± the red-hair said. ¡°I will also require two pairs of socks and underwear, two pairs of boots, along with anything else an adventurer might want to wear.¡±


    The next ten minutes of Aida¡¯s sorry day were spent pillaging the store¡¯s attic for the crazy red-hair¡¯s request. The red-hair forced her to work quietly to not alert anyone who could possibly see him without clothes. In the end, Aida had piled some haphazard socks, two pairs of breeches that could or perhaps could not fit the man¡¯s foreign acquaintance, an undershirt to pair with the robe, a rather expensive suit of the red-hair¡¯s choosing, four pairs of men¡¯s linen underwear, and two pairs of black knee-high boots.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± the red-hair said. ¡°As close as we¡¯ll get, at least. How much will this all cost?¡±


    ¡°The ledgers downstairs will require a moment to work,¡± Aida said. ¡°They will offer you a price.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t have that,¡± the red-hair said. ¡°I require these clothes approximately now.¡±


    ¡°The ledgers will take less than five minutes, if you will,¡± Aida said.


    ¡°I regret to inform you,¡± the red-hair said, ¡°that I currently do not have a single scrap of money on my person, and I would prefer to walk back with at least some parts of my body covered.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ intend to not pay?¡± Aida asked.


    ¡°No, this is not a robbery,¡± the red-hair said. ¡°I will pay you a healthy buck. That day will have to wait, however.¡±


    Aida stood in bewilderment, wondering if she should forget courtesies and scream out for help to catch this thief. Yet, she doubted the whole store¡¯s workforce combined would have been enough to take down this man. His muscles certainly spoke for themselves. If he wasn¡¯t currently robbing her store, Aida could have imagined the conversation going a whole lot differently.


    As she was lost in consideration, footsteps sounded from downstairs. ¡°Aida?¡± a woman¡¯s voice called. Their ledger, Verys. ¡°What¡¯s the ruckus up there?¡±


    The red-hair took this as a warning. He piled every piece of cloth and fabric into his arms with superhuman speed and precision, then took off with haste, escaping where he had come, all before Verys could make it upstairs.


    ¡°Aida?¡± Verys asked. The older woman tapped Aida on the shoulder. ¡°Did something happen? You look as if you¡¯ve been cursed.¡±


    ¡°Verys?¡± Aida said. ¡°I think we were just robbed.¡±

 35: True Missions

    ¡°This might be the weirdest place I have applied makeup in.¡± Remy stared at herself through a handheld mirror as she applied some sort of black eyeliner. She paced around in circles, having re-done the same spot three times by now. ¡°In a wooden trash house, alone with a half-naked man from a questionable place of the world. My noble training tells me I should feel uncomfortable.¡±


    ¡°I apologize,¡± I said, sharing the emotions. Girls felt worse simply by existing in the same room as me. It was a sad thing to feel, knowing I had zero intention to perform any of the acts a half-naked man could attempt.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t say that. This is all Darko¡¯s fault. I can¡¯t believe, out of all things in the world, he let my student¡¯s clothes get stolen.¡± Remy adjusted the mirror angle and sighed. ¡°Moons, I feel like a skittish little child preparing for my first ball. I¡¯m the one who needs to apologize. Here I am, telling you to learn diligently with all of your focus, only to ruin your efforts with useless blabbering. Get back to training; I¡¯ll stop spouting nonsense, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. Remy had ordered me to ¡°feel out¡± my mana chords with the tips given so far. The salmon carp analogy included. The analogy told me to imagine myself filled with little pores to shoot my blood from, similar to how ¡°salmon carps sprayed water from their scales.¡± These pores would be located by the ends of my mana chords, around my hand and fingertips, where I was to cast mana out of my body, turning it into magic.


    The method was difficult to imagine, considering I had never seen a Krose salmon carp. Still, I tried to imagine the pores. I didn¡¯t manage much other than to confuse my nerves by attempting to move muscles that didn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°It feels stupid, I know,¡± Remy said. ¡°Without mana in your chords, it¡¯s difficult to tell whether you¡¯re actually feeling your chords. But this is a necessary procedure for when we eventually try the real thing. Don¡¯t move your muscles through a command in your head. Instead, try to move your consciousness to your chords, as if you were there. Don¡¯t think of the endpoint as any physical place. Locate your chords with your consciousness.¡±


    I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and attempted the same thing again. Honestly, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d learned anything within the hour of attempts. And what was more, it didn¡¯t help that every mage apparently imagined this process differently.


    Still, I tried and tried. If only to distract myself from the mountain of worries clouding my head.


    Ten or so minutes later, Remy turned to me, having applied the last bits of makeup. ¡°How does it look?¡±


    I tried my best not to turn red or look away. ¡°Good?¡± I said. ¡°Uhm, I¡¯m not familiar with your culture¡¯s beauty standards.¡±


    Remy pouted at her mirror. ¡°My mother would have done it far better. She always put more effort into makeup than most mages do in practice. This is as good as I¡¯ll get without her help. I hope it¡¯s good enough. One of us needs to look like a proper lady in the palace, and I know Shena won¡¯t even try. Not that she needs makeup. She portrays the sassy adventurer look perfectly. Noble boys will fawn over her, and all she needs to do is frown in their direction.¡±


    I leaned forward with my arms on my thighs. ¡°This really is a serious mission, huh?¡±


    ¡°It might be,¡± Remy said. ¡°We¡¯re meeting the King. Nervous?¡±


    I took a breath. I knew I could be honest with Remy. It still took willpower to reveal my true thoughts. ¡°I¡¯ll explode any second,¡± I said. ¡°My life was normal just a week ago.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look nervous,¡± Remy said. ¡°You look more¡­ Focused. Like there¡¯s some serious equation you¡¯re trying to solve.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to solve this mana pores problem,¡± I said with a sigh. And I could have left it at that. But something within me wanted to say more. ¡°And I¡¯m wondering how I¡¯ll survive through Darko¡¯s mission. So far, I haven¡¯t found any solutions.¡±


    Remy let out a laugh and plumped down on a bed opposite from me. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m about to risk everything I have just to teach some random guy I met a few days ago. You better be thankful, Cill. And don¡¯t you dare reveal your occupation to the King. When we step out of here, you¡¯re a fully learned mage.¡±


    ¡°A learned student of James Adamson,¡± I said.


    Remy nodded, then ordered me back to learning while she triple-checked her makeup.


    ***


    Shena appeared at the inn first. She had just laid down her staff and hinted at her findings when the man himself strolled inside. All of us watched as Darko dropped a stack of clothes on the bed next to me. He exhaled and wiped his forehead. ¡°Done, and perfectly on time,¡± he said.


    ¡°Darko?¡± Remy asked. She had finished revisions to her makeup just in time to cast a frown at Darko. ¡°What in the name of Arkber¡¯s Lost Thieves are you wearing?¡±


    Grinning wide, our leader straightened the golden lapels of his pristine black suit. I eyed the outfit in surprise. The quality of the outfit was on par with your average wedding suit, though no sane man would willingly wear a suit as showy and highlighted. The suit had nearly as much golden embroidery in circular shapes as it did black fabric.


    ¡®¡°Fits me well, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Darko said.


    ¡°Absolutely not!¡± Remy called. ¡°You lack half of a proper outfit, including a coat or cloak, which are considered the main dishes of any man¡¯s wardrobe. You¡¯re missing every single ornament¡ªepaulets, pins, everything that is usually considered a sign of politeness and class. You¡¯d be kicked out of a ball before stepping in, never to receive an invitation again. And this is notwithstanding your unkempt hair, your overly arrogant posture, and your grin that can only belong to a maniac adventurer! You¡¯re practically naked!¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Darko said. ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°I think he looks good,¡± Shena said.


    I had to agree. As showy as the suit was, Darko would have certainly passed any dress code on Earth. If anything, the best stylists would have thrown compliments for his looks. Though most kind words would have been directed at his illegally good-looking face.


    ¡°Sadly, your preference in men doesn¡¯t matter in the slightest, Shena,¡± Remy said. ¡°I presume Darko intends to wear this to the audience today. His reputation will be butchered. The nobility and royalty see each element of an outfit as a potential weakness to criticize. And as our leader lacks most of the necessary components to craft an outfit, the nobility will take offense at Darko¡¯s refusal to participate. In their eyes you appear much like a man lounging in breeches.¡±


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    ¡°The tailor tricked me, then,¡± Darko said with a sigh. ¡°She said this was a good suit.¡±


    ¡°Nobody tricked you but yourself. The suit is an excellent foundation to build an outfit on,¡± Remy said. ¡°But it¡¯s incomplete. A simple adventurer¡¯s vest would have worked far better for your character. Nobility respects the work adventurers put in. A suit, however, will be seen as your failed attempt to impress.¡±


    ¡°Better cover myself in a cloak, then,¡± Darko said. ¡°How about Cill¡¯s outfit? I was proud of it when I picked it up. And I would like to remain proud of it.¡±


    Remy and I glanced at the stack of clothes on the bed. ¡°You bought him a robe?¡±


    ¡°I doubt he bought anything at all,¡± Shena said. ¡°I for one did not count any coins leaving this inn at Darko¡¯s departure. This is all stolen, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°¡®Borrowed¡¯ is the word you¡¯re looking for,¡± Darko said. ¡°I promised to pay later. None of it is stolen.¡±


    ¡°Darko¡­¡± Shena said. ¡°How is it that our goal has been to impress royalty, yet we have not left one major city without committing several crimes?¡±


    ¡°What, you think I¡¯ll get arrested?¡± Darko asked with a grin. ¡°How¡¯s the robe? I say we should try it on.¡±


    Remy sighed. ¡°Cill is a mage, as odd as he will look. The robe could work. Do you know how to wear a robe?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I admitted.


    Remy picked out everything I needed for my outfit. ¡°Put on the undergarments, and I''ll help with the robe. Most mages consider stockings essential to cover their feet, but most mages are also women. You¡¯ll have to do with breeches. Luckily, this particular robe is lengthy enough to cover yourself.¡±


    At my master¡¯s orders, I scurried to the room next over and covered myself in long-awaited clothes. The breeches could have qualified as tight long johns that would have fit me right into a gay nightclub back on Earth, and the wide-shouldered undershirt wasn¡¯t exactly tailored to fit. Still, I was happy to wear anything at all.


    Remy helped me with the robe. She showed me how to tie the sash and made sure no pieces of fabric were tucked in the wrong places. The robe was awfully thick for the weather and too wide around the chest. But I didn¡¯t completely hate it. If I was to become a mage, I could imagine myself wearing it. The team collectively agreed that the robe was an acceptable outfit, and the matter of clothes was finally concluded, for now.


    ¡°Shena,¡± Darko said. ¡°Seeing you here, I take it that you at least haven¡¯t been mutilated to death by our assailants. What did you find?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re cultists,¡± Shena said. I perked up at the word. ¡°The old church is in their control and packed with mostly goons and grubbies. For our newbie, ¡®goons and grubbies¡¯ refers to untrained and mostly inexperienced combatants. I spotted a man taking swings with Darko¡¯s sword, though he appeared inexperienced with wielding vigor.¡±


    ¡°Ah, perfect,¡± Darko said with a grin. ¡°Eager amateurs, is it?¡±


    Shena nodded. ¡°I suspect the bathhouse was in the cult¡¯s control. The cultists identified you as the Wyvern Slayer and took your sword, understandably. What confuses me is this whole harmful lice fiasco. Why not just take the sword and run?¡±


    ¡°You can never predict what the smaller cultist groups have in mind,¡± Darko said. ¡°Most of them operate separately with their own squadron leaders. I think the leader saw the bounty on my head and wished to capture me on top of my sword. He¡¯d gain a lot of popularity, capturing a man who has caused them so much trouble. They likely haven¡¯t heard of Cill¡¯s Hallowed chords yet. Otherwise, capturing Cill would have been a priority.¡±


    ¡°They could have simply jumped you two while you were bathing,¡± Shena said with a sigh. ¡°Maybe they wished to lure you to a worse part of town before causing a scene?¡±


    ¡°You can never tell with Azetoth¡¯s sniffers,¡± Darko said. ¡°I say we¡¯ll capitalize on their mistakes and pillage the damn place.¡± He stood up and stretched. The girls followed, picking up their staves.


    ¡°We¡¯re attacking them?¡± I asked. ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Darko said. ¡°We¡¯ve got some bits of time before our audience. I¡¯ve promised we¡¯ll capture cultists for our audience, and we require our stuff back. There is no better time to attack than now. Ah, and before I forget, take this.¡± He handed me a crooked staff, similar to Shena¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s a real weapon. I don¡¯t expect you to use it, of course. Just try to look like you know what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    I gulped and nodded.


    Without further planning, the team grabbed their stuff. Our luggage was this time carried by Shena. In under a minute, the team was on their way downstairs and out of the inn, ushering me to follow. As usual, I did not wish to leave.


    And as usual, I had no choice but to get off my ass and follow.


    The team emerged in the evening air with confidence, as if on a simple stroll to grab dinner. Their charisma radiated to the streets around them. Paths cleared. Even horses on carriages shifted to make room for our party. The girls¡¯ staves and Darko¡¯s suit provided the largest effect, though I realized I, in my hefty robe, was just as intimidating to passersby.


    I followed beside Remy, making sure not to fall behind, though I certainly did not feel like a part of the group. I still considered myself an impostor, despite my promises. Once again, I¡¯d barely received a few hours of rest, and I was already back dealing with the damn cult. It was still too early¡­


    ¡°Cill, I know I said this last time, and that didn¡¯t end well,¡± Remy said. ¡°But you are protected. I will do anything in my power to keep you safe. If Shena¡¯s assessment is correct, and the church is stacked with simple goons, Darko could brawl everyone out with his fists.¡±


    I took a breath. ¡°I know. You are strong. But¡­ What if this is another ambush? What if they have more hostages?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t,¡± Shena said. ¡°I scouted the place as thoroughly as I could have. If the cult has a trap, it¡¯s not inside the church.¡±


    How can you be so confident? I thought. Last time, we went in with nearly the exact same preparations. The team was confident, then. What was different today?


    ¡°I believe the problem is a lack of weapons and self-defense,¡± Darko said. ¡°Cill, how good are you at throwing things?¡±


    I raised my eyebrows. ¡°Acceptable?¡±


    Darko pulled out a round vial filled with liquid the color of my robe. Suspicious particles swam at the bottom of the vial. ¡°Daze powder. Alchemy in a vial. Serious stuff for immobilizing even the best of mages if you manage a clean hit. This stuff won¡¯t kill, not unless your target passes out inside the cloud, but even the tiniest sniff of this will dissuade any attacker. And don¡¯t ask me where I got this.¡±


    I accepted the vial and hid it in the inside pocket of my robe. Fantasy pepper spray, I imagined. Great.


    The rest of the walk was spent talking plans, a conversation that passed mostly through my ears. I found myself too busy with my own preparations, taking deep breaths, convincing myself that I would live to see tomorrow.


    The logical side of my brain had already deemed my clothes a lost cause. They were stolen by goddamned cultists. If anything, I was lucky that my clothes were the only valuables taken. Any sensible person would have accepted the loss and moved on with their merry lives, trying their best to forget ever owning the lost pair of clothes. They¡¯d perhaps report the problem to the constabulary or whatever enforced rules around the area. I was sure most people from Earth would share my sentiment.


    Yet, this was not how the world operated. My mindset was the unpopular one¡ªa mindset that I had promised to change. Sooner than later, I would have to become like Darko, a man who actively hunted the thieves who dared steal from them.


    This is stupid, my brain argued. Even rowdy teens put you on edge. You pride yourself on being a peaceful guy, good with words to dissuade fights. Why would a man like you ever choose the path of a fighter?


    Our destination loomed in the distance. I took a deep breath, cursed Shiela for the umpteenth time, then prepared myself for the upcoming attack.

 36: Experts

    Our target was an abandoned church on the sprawling side of the city. The church was a smaller replica of the church in Vol¨¦s, though this one was rougher around the edges. No banners lined its gable, and the decorative wooden pillars around its walls were mostly cracked and fallen, some lying in splinters around the perimeters. The garden appeared much like an overgrown graveyard.


    The girls and I approached calmly, but carefully. The former applied more to the girls than me. Darko had split off to perform his part. From my lackluster understanding, the ¡°plan¡± consisted mostly of improvising spells and punches until the cultists were either dead or otherwise immobilized. My job was to enjoy the show and not get myself killed.


    I knew I could play my part. I mean, my task was literally to do nothing. Yet, apprehension remained. No matter what the team argued, we could have very well been walking to another trap.


    But I had promised to keep my head up. So I did, hoping that my willpower was enough to overpower whatever trauma I was possibly about to endure.


    ¡°Remy?¡± Shena asked with a hint of concern in her voice. ¡°Does it feel as if we¡¯re being watched?¡±


    Remy paused. She glanced behind at the alleys and rooftops, then said, ¡°No, I don¡¯t feel anything.¡±


    Shena held her head as if listening to the wind. ¡°It passed when you looked.¡±


    ¡°We are about to enter a cultist base,¡± Remy said. ¡°Someone is bound to be watching us in one way or another.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that,¡± Shena said. ¡°But I swear I felt magic in the air. The professional and active type.¡±


    Remy glanced at me. I shrugged, obviously feeling nothing but my nerves. ¡°It¡¯s probably nothing,¡± Remy said. ¡°There aren¡¯t more than a hundred mages in the world skilled enough to spy on us without alerting us, and I doubt any of them care enough to watch us clear a minor cultist operation.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Shena said. ¡°Let¡¯s move, then. Darko should be more than ready.¡±


    A sentry stood by the closed front doors of the church. A woman in similar attire to the Priest Keeper from Vol¨¦s, close enough in resemblance to re-spark bad memories. She spotted us approaching and immediately froze at the sight of Shena¡¯s glowing staff.


    The woman had no time to cry out, as Shena¡¯s gooey projectile made contact with her face. The slimy goo filled her nose and mouth, blocking her breath ways. Within seconds, she fell unconscious.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, she¡¯s not dead,¡± Shena said. ¡°We try to keep our victims alive, if at all possible, as vile as they are. My spell provides breath for the next several days and ensures that she won¡¯t wake up before that.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± I gulped. A horrified look was glued to the sentry¡¯s face.


    Shena tested the door handle of the church¡¯s double doors, finding our entrance locked. I would have deemed the mission a failure there and then, but Remy found the keys from the sentry¡¯s pockets within fifteen seconds of searching.


    Staves held like the shields of a SWAT team, the girls pulled the doors open, then stepped into the church.


    Inside, we were faced with the shadiest and most obvious setup I had ever seen.


    Priests and servants were spread across the roughed-up and non-operational church, dimly lit by a single chandelier. Abandoned benches and other furniture were left in place. Statues and podiums had disappeared¡ªsame with anything else that might have held value.


    The servants ranged from active cleaners to idle gazers leaning on walls. None wore cultist masks nor openly carried weapons, and none appeared panicked to see their church being broken into. The priests, however, gave concerned looks to our mages.


    ¡°Greetings,¡± Shena said. We paused near the entrance, presumably to ensure we wouldn¡¯t get surrounded on all sides. ¡°We have come to pick up the items and gear of Darko, the Wyvern Slayer. According to a letter written to our master, his gear is kept here.¡±


    The leader of the group licked his lips and faced us. He was an older man in a priestly robe. ¡°The items are in our safekeeping. However, I cannot give them to you.¡±


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    ¡°Why is that?¡± Shena asked. ¡°Our Master has ordered us to pick up the items.¡±


    ¡°The Wyvern Slayer¡¯s items are valuable,¡± the priest said. ¡°I cannot risk such expenses falling into the wrong hands. I will only deliver them directly to the man himself. Preferably, he should arrive alone, to not bother us as you have.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Shena said. ¡°How kind of you. In that case, offering the items to us will not be an issue.¡±


    The priest frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The Wyvern Slayer is very much in the building with us right now.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± the priest asked.


    As if at the cue, a door behind the altar flung open by force. Through stepped a red-haired grinning maniac, holding two unconscious masked men by their robes. He tossed the cultists on the floor ahead, then called out with an exaggerated tone, ¡°The Wyvern Slayer does it again! This time saving a perfectly honest and not-at-all criminal church from a cultist ambush!¡±


    Panicked responses commenced. Half of our assailants dropped the act immediately, drawing weapons, realizing they were the ones surrounded in a trap. This prompted the other half to do the same. The head priest grimaced before pulling out Darko¡¯s sword from a hidden scabbard.


    Crossbows and daggers filled the remaining hands. The weapons of choice for cultists. Also the weapons I had the worst memories with. Any second now, I knew a gigantic black sword would appear from behind, blocking the exits.


    A Black Plate did not appear. Instead, Shena¡¯s mana chords glimmered through her skin as dozens of slime balls flew out from her staff at a pace comparable to my heartbeat. Few of her blows missed the stationary and untrained cultists, who were too frozen to dodge.


    Bolts and arrows shot my way. I yelled something incoherent, holding my arms and staff to block my face. My efforts proved unnecessary. Remy¡¯s casting snapped incoming crossbow bolts in half mid-flight with the help of a spell I couldn¡¯t even guess to identify. It was as if she could stop projectiles through willpower alone.


    With the lesser cultists busy, Darko rushed straight for the head priest. The priest let out a battle cry and slammed the glowing sword down at Darko¡¯s head at a speed I thought would kill the leader for certain.


    Darko¡¯s side-step was far quicker, making the priest¡¯s expert swing appear clumsy. Darko countered with a fist to the head. The blow sent the priest flinging across the room. The sword fell from his grasp and bounced with clatters across the room. The priest fell unconscious if not dead.


    Then, as if no fighting had ever happened, the church fell quiet.


    ¡°Heh,¡± Darko said with a grin. ¡°Expert performance, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    ¡°Your call-outs are growing harsher to withstand each time,¡± Shena said with a sigh. ¡°We¡¯re lucky nobody heard.¡±


    ¡°The cultists will remember once they wake up, I¡¯m sure,¡± Darko said.


    Shena rolled her eyes. ¡°Did you find our clothes? The invitation?¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± Darko said. With a grin, he waved around a piece of neat parchment. ¡°My stuff was all casually lying around being examined. Cill¡¯s stuff¡­ Well, hopefully we¡¯ll find his items somewhere.¡±


    I released my breath with an audible gasp, only now realizing I¡¯d held it through the whole fight. I took repeated breaths, my body refusing to calm down. A large part of me had expected to withstand further trauma from bloodshed or to straight up die. Apprehension had kept me prepared for that reality.


    ¡°Not so bad, was it?¡± Remy asked. ¡°This is actually how most of our missions go¡ªgranted, our opponents are magnitudes below our skill. Every now and then the cultists offer someone difficult, which is why we always work as a group. For most jobs, however, we could perform them with our eyes closed.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s done, then?¡± I asked in disbelief. ¡°We don¡¯t need to kill more?¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t kill a single one, actually,¡± Darko said. ¡°Sadly, that means we can¡¯t collect their souls. We¡¯ll drop the bunch off for the constabulary. And as for that fellow.¡± Darko glanced at the head priest. ¡°We¡¯ll keep him tied and use him as proof of our success. I¡¯ll show him directly to the King.¡±


    I snorted, and for once in my life I expressed something vaguely resembling a smile. My allies were powerful. They had protected me, just as promised. Not only that, they made the cultists appear like child¡¯s play.


    Maybe our earlier missions were exceptions, after all. If every mission went like this¡­ I could do this. If I simply learned a few supporting spells to help the team¡­ Perhaps, in some world, I wouldn¡¯t be such a nervous, utterly useless idiot. If I just learned and improved myself, I could¡ª


    And that was where the celebrations of my naively meager victory ended.


    Something landed behind us with a thump. A sensation washed over my body, my instincts telling me not to move a muscle. Whatever hellish being had arrived at the doors, its aura alone was enough to freeze me on the spot. My mana chords squeezed themselves to near suffocation.


    Darko¡¯s sword on the floor suddenly lifted as if by levitation and flung across the room in an arc, over my head and into the arms of whoever was blocking our exit.


    ¡°Greetings from a time long past, old friends,¡± a man¡¯s voice said. ¡°It appears the outposts have offered you little challenge.¡±


    Darko¡¯s expression evolved into pure hatred from the pits of hell. ¡°Jordan¡­ What do you think you are doing!¡±


    ¡°It has come to my attention that a recent awakener has joined your party to learn under an illegal, irresponsible teacher,¡± the man said. He held his staff, then pointed the shining orb directly at me. ¡°I have come to free you of this responsibility.¡±

 37: The Teacher

    Two men blocked the doors. I recognized one of them immediately. His face matched the magical hologram that had ordered me to torture.


    First Archpriest Rigrith grinned. He held Darko¡¯s sword in one hand, his own¡ªa much larger black sword¡ªin the other. Dozens of slashing scars ran all over his face and body below, as if he¡¯d been tortured and healed back to life.


    Next to him, the tall mage appeared much like a human, if not for the bone-chilling aura radiating from his staff. His gray robe was just flashy enough to indicate a profession in magic¡ªminimal in ornamentation, but hefty with pockets. His side-parted hair was cleanly arranged some days ago, having evolved into greasy lines.


    Jordan Feryah. The man who was supposed to be my teacher.


    Shena and Remy held their staves in defense, stationed on both sides of my startled self. I didn¡¯t move a muscle, knowing that anything I could do would only hinder my protection. I¡¯d seen how strong the girls were. I saw determination in their eyes. They would both protect me with their lives. Even Darko, swordless as he was, appeared ready to pounce.


    Unfortunately, determination alone was utterly useless when faced with enemies multitudes stronger in power.


    A shockwave erupted from Jordan¡¯s staff, like an invisible pulse to signal the end of life. The air rippled as the blow connected. Remy and Shena flew back by force.


    Shena burst into a bench, shattering through its wood before she collapsed. Remy tumbled across the carpet of the main aisle. The orb of her staff shattered. The remaining stick lay motionless alongside its immobilized owner.


    The spell hadn¡¯t impacted me in the slightest. I stood frozen where I had, now with nothing to protect me from the most powerful mage I had yet come across.


    Rigrith¡¯s cackling figure came next. I fell backward as the dual-wielding swordsman dashed past me, greeting Darko with an overhead swing. Darko side-stepped at the last moment, surviving with panicked eyes and a small cut on the shoulder. Rigrith¡¯s blow hit the floor with an ear-shattering blast, the shockwave of which sent Darko sprawling on the floor.


    A jolt shot through my body from below. The stone flooring cracked like glass, damage spread from wall to wall. The shockwave of Rigrith¡¯s sword reverberated throughout the church. Old dirt fell from ceiling cracks.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Jordan Feryah called. ¡°Do not kill them yet.¡±


    ¡°Then subdue them already,¡± Rigrith said.


    With a disapproving look on his face, Jordan stepped deeper into the church. He lifted his staff high. The orb glowed with an oppressive purple in preparation for a spell I could only watch in terrified awe.


    No explosions nor shockwaves erupted. Instead, Jordan¡¯s spell affected our bodies directly. My muscles and mana chords were squeezed into forced submission, as if invisible shackles were placed on every inch of my body. I couldn¡¯t even flinch my arms. And as if that wasn¡¯t enough, a sharp blade of arcane magic materialized on my neck, not half an inch away from my skin.


    Holy shit was all I could think as the same spell was repeated on my friends. Darko¡¯s team, filled with masters of adventuring that I had treated as practically invincible, was subdued in half the time it took for us to clear the church. The four of us were utterly helpless.


    With another effortless spell, Jordan lifted our bodies into sitting positions. My limbs moved like a string puppet¡¯s.


    ¡°Attempt to fight for control, and the blade will cut your throats,¡± Jordan said. ¡°You cannot win in a struggle.¡±


    My muscles were so utterly lifeless that I couldn¡¯t have crapped myself in fear had I attempted it. Only my face remained the slightest bit of control, enough for silent and uncontrollable tears to flow like rivers from my unblinking eyes.


    It was happening again. The same, Shiela damned cultists. Not one day of peace, and here we were. Captured, this time by the strongest of the strong.


    Cultists. Magic. Dead friends.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Darko asked. His hands were subdued behind his back, body just as immobile as mine.


    ¡°Is this not self-evident?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°We have captured three vicious troublemakers, ones that have destroyed operations in multiple major cities. Punishment is what you three will receive. As for the fourth¡­¡± Jordan¡¯s staff glimmered again as he approached me.


    My right arm lifted into the air out of my control. Jordan took hold of my wrist and examined my mana chords.


    ¡°Hallowed chords.¡± Jordan didn¡¯t grin like most. If anything, he appeared sympathetic, almost sad to see me. ¡°The unlikeliest of reports, but they ring true. You, outsider, are the most talented and rarest mage to have awakened in five hundred years.¡±


    ¡°We found him, then,¡± Rigrith said. ¡°Exactly the man Azetoth is looking for.¡±


    ¡°We have indeed,¡± Jordan said with a frown. ¡°My intel claims this man is a recent awakener. I have a busy schedule ahead of me, teaching him. Tell me, young mage, do you speak or understand Krose?¡±


    ¡°I do¡­¡± I said with absolutely no will behind my words.


    ¡°Good,¡± Jordan said. ¡°In that case, we can get to work right after the mess is sorted. You can consider yourself an honored visitor. Your chords are a gift of the gods. It is a shame the very same gods have betrayed this world.¡±


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    ¡°No¡­¡± I said.


    Why, Shiela? I thought. Couldn¡¯t the nightmare end already? With what logic did I deserve all this? Because I was unhappy with my life on earth? Was my depression the reason for this hell?


    I had done acceptably well with Remy¡¯s help, had I not? I truly believed I was starting to understand the ways of this world.


    The world had no ¡°ways.¡± It had cultists and torture.


    ¡°Unfortunately, refusal is not an option,¡± Jordan said. ¡°We will discuss the terms of our relationship later. For now, what will we do with this bunch?¡± He turned to face the rest of my team, starting with my teacher. ¡°Remyer Ravilles. A lucky mage born into nobility, taught by professionals without a slave contract. An opposer of her fate, reducing herself to a mere adventurer. Ultimately, a failure.¡±


    Remy struggled to keep the tears in. She glanced at me with a look of pure helplessness.


    ¡°Shena Benneft,¡± Jordan said. ¡°An escapee from the village of Tulfurd. Said to be a self-taught genius. In reality, an abomination of Gorthorn techniques. A skilled mage, yet irrelevant to the world around her.¡±


    Shena scowled back. ¡°How do you know this?¡±


    ¡°Now this,¡± Jordan said, ¡°is an interesting fellow. Darryl Blythe. Otherwise known as Darko the Wyvern Slayer. A descendant of a rather infamous woman.¡± He turned to Rigrith. ¡°The Blythe kid is to be brought to Azetoth, in case the Master yet has unfinished business with this lineage.¡±


    ¡°You ass sniffers are making a great mistake,¡± Darko said.


    ¡°By capturing you?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°I believe not. Your goal to kill us is clearly announced to the world. It would be stupid of us to consider letting you free. An old ally though you are.¡±


    ¡°My lineage and revenge are as good as dead,¡± Darko said with a scowl. ¡°The mistake is not capturing me. The mistake is every other act you have committed. Even if you kill me, Azetoth¡¯s reign will not last. Far more powerful mages than him exist in this world. It¡¯s only a matter of time before the Defenders get involved in this mess.¡±


    Jordan let out a sad laugh. ¡°This may very well be the case. It doesn¡¯t matter to me. Unlike Rigrith and other followers, I do not pride myself as a servant of Azetoth. I share a goal with my master, to truly master the control of magic. If we succeed, Cerdri himself would stand no chance in defeating us.¡±


    ¡°You know better than to truly believe those words,¡± Darko said with the deepest look of anger I had seen on his face. ¡°Are you truly the same man I used to know? What in Goddess Akona¡¯s name happened to you! What would Alyce Xastur think if she saw you in the face you own!¡±


    Jordan¡¯s staff glowed a sparkly red, casting a spell I could only imagine was torture. Darko screamed in pain. ¡°I am letting you live, adventurer!¡± Jordan shouted. ¡°Mention her name once more, and I will change my mind in an instant!¡±


    Darko¡¯s screams rang throughout the church, casting more tears onto my and my teacher¡¯s faces. My heart paused alongside the wails, imagining the possibility that this spell could be cast on me.


    Why did I choose to live on? Why?


    Eventually, Jordan paused the torture, Darko¡¯s neck falling limp. Jordan took a deep breath to calm himself.


    ¡°The mages are disposable, then?¡± Rigrith asked. He stood idly during his colleague¡¯s fit of madness. ¡°Do we have a reason to keep them imprisoned?¡±


    ¡°We do not,¡± Jordan said. ¡°Azetoth has no use for stragglers.¡±


    A grin took over Rigrith¡¯s face. ¡°In that case, allow me the pleasure. You already have the honor of tending the mage of Hallowed chords. Let me offer my meager contribution to the Master.¡±


    Frowning, Jordan nodded. He pulled out something from his robe¡¯s inside pockets and offered it to Rigrith. A heart pierced by¡­ needles?


    Shena¡¯s face opened wide at the sight. ¡°No. You wouldn¡¯t!¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes I would.¡± Rigrith grinned. ¡°I see you understand how this works. I congratulate you for defeating Averia. I hope you were impressed by the contraption used to fuel her magic.¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± Darko called. ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking dare!¡±


    Rigrith¡¯s inhumane chuckle gave me chills. ¡°Your girls¡¯ magic isn¡¯t very useful when wielded by idiots now, is it? How about we offer their chords to someone far more capable?¡±


    ¡°Bastards!¡± Darko shouted. His brain seemed to turn off as his shoulders flailed in an attempt to be free. I watched in horror, certain that the blade would cut his head off any second. Yet, Darko did not die. Instead, Jordan focused his purple-glowing staff into subduing the raving maniac. Darko was overpowered to the ground.


    The blade did not kill him. Was it a bluff?


    Rigrith approached my teacher, needle in hand. ¡°Young Ravilles. I have a history with your kind, believe it or not. Tell me, is everyone in your family as discriminating as your mother?¡±


    Remy cried, mouth frozen open under Rigrith¡¯s scowl.


    Rigrith sighed. ¡°Nobility should not exist. Your lives are a waste, your culture is shit, and your morals are none. I am ashamed to have been born amongst your ranks. I lose sleep counting the years I wasted mingling in your useless balls, trying to fit myself into your pretentious community. Killing you all will offer me great pleasure.¡±


    Remy squirmed as Rigrith took a step toward her. Darko¡¯s screams rung over my pounding heartbeat. I watched as my teacher¡¯s tears grew into a panicked flood. Remy¡¯s neck inched backward with each one of Rigrith¡¯s steps. She wailed desperate pleas.


    I recalled the same state of mind from just two days ago in Vol¨¦s. The realization that any love I had for myself was about to be violated in the worst form, and there was absolutely nothing I could do but exist in the trapped torment about to befall. I had never in my life experienced a more terrifying rush of emotions, not even when I had jumped off the twelfth-story balcony.


    Remy, my poor teacher, was living through the same exact moment.


    Jordan¡¯s focus was on Darko¡¯s screaming struggle. Nobody paid any attention to me. Perhaps, if luck was on my side¡­


    Rigrith, now within punching distance of Remy, raised the needle. The vilest grin lit his face as he prepared to strike. I couldn¡¯t watch any longer.


    And I knew I was the only one in the room with the slightest of chances to save my friend.


    Arcane Snare - An uncommon spell within the ¡°arcane¡± family. Arcane magic is known most for its destructive power. Nerds, however, will remind you of Arcane magic¡¯s surprising capabilities in utility.


    Arcane Snare will trap unsuspecting targets like magical lassoes. It¡¯s a costly spell, not ideal to be used for extended periods of time and can easily be countered if the opposer knows it¡¯s coming.


    For surprise attacks, nothing beats the good old snare trap.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400; text-align: justify">Goddess Shiela¡¯s description of the spell, ¡°Arcane Snare¡±</li>


    </ul>

 38: Apostle

    ¡°Arcane Snare!¡± I screamed moments before Rigrith¡¯s needle could pierce Remy¡¯s heart.


    No part of me expected the spell to work. I was certain the effects would be laughed off, followed by a punishment coming my way. I may have been a Goddess¡¯s apostle, but I was still only level three, faced with opponents magnitudes stronger than me. I barely understood how the spell I was casting even worked, having skimmed its description once.


    Yet by some miracle, perhaps by the element of surprise, the spell tangled itself around Rigrith¡¯s body. Shock caught Rigrith¡¯s features. For a moment, the Archpriest was utterly tangled in my spell of arcane magic, as if purple lassoes were tied tightly around his shoulders and arms.


    With the spell, Shiela¡¯s mana rushed through my chords, enlightening my body. The surge of mana fought back against Jordan¡¯s oppressive spell. The Goddess¡¯s powers won immediately and without question. My limbs regained control.


    By now, Rigrith¡¯s years of experience had replaced confusion. He ripped through my spell with pure strength one arcane circle at a time. Jordan brought his attention back to me, noticing I had somehow escaped his hold. I knew I had to act fast.


    ¡°Arcane Discharge!¡± I shouted. Pressure shot from my hand, as if I¡¯d activated a powerful water hose. A spray of purple arcane magic released with enough pressure to push me backward.


    The Goddess must have blessed my aim, as the beam connected with my target¡¯s face. Rigrith plummeted to the ground. His sword and the needle flung off his arms.


    Simultaneously, Darko¡¯s struggle paid off. He escaped Jordan¡¯s hold and sprinted for the nearest sword¡ªRigrith¡¯s black behemoth lying next to the fallen Archpriest¡¯s head.


    Grimacing, Jordan snapped back to Darko. His staff glowed in preparation for an attack about to shoot.


    This distracted him from the hold on the last of his prisoners. Shena¡¯s swift casting shot an icicle at Jordan¡¯s head.


    Jordan dodged the attack with miracle instincts but was forced to cancel his attack. Darko had just enough time to plant the black sword into Rigrith¡¯s forehead.


    This all happened in a second at such speed I had no idea how my eyes kept up. The most important thing, however, was clear. Remy was safe. Startled and frozen in tears, but alive. Thank Shiela.


    Jordan grimaced, realizing he was utterly surrounded. He blocked another three of Shena¡¯s icicles with magical barrier-windows. I considered tossing another surprise spell of my own but deemed my luck stretched already. Jordan was paying attention. My spells would be useless.


    ¡°Clever tricks!¡± Jordan shouted. ¡°You will pay for what you have done!¡±


    With this, Jordan caught flight, gracefully flinging high onto the shattered windows above. His staff glowed a disgusting purple, pointed at me.


    My body yanked into the air, as if an invisible lasso had wrapped around me. The change of footing happened too fast to notice. By the time I understood where I¡¯d moved, I was caught in Jordan¡¯s spells, along with Darko¡¯s sword, stolen off the ground.


    Then, Jordan and I took off flying towards the sunset. I let out a scream of terror from the pure speed.


    ¡°JORDAAAN!¡± Darko¡¯s scream resounded high in the air. But as loud as it was, the yell didn¡¯t save me from my kidnapper. Within half a minute of flight, the church appeared as nothing but a speck in the city landscape below me.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The following scene registered in my head as the type of hazy memory I knew existed but struggled to access despite knowing exactly what had ensued. My brain treated the situation with such extremes that memory outright refused to participate, sorting the recollection of messy thoughts like landmines of the head.


    I didn¡¯t know which I feared more: the kidnapper cultist wishing me harm or the fact that I was currently hundreds, if not thousands of feet in the air. Both fears combined to tangle my brain into utter madness.


    We were clearly flying towards the sky, but my senses were certain we were falling. Buildings, alleys, people¡ªall around a beautiful, vertigo-inducing, view of Arkber¡¯s slums lay below me. My eyes saw nothing but spikes drawing me in. Each street was a potential spot to splatter against, gravity tempting me with a pretty kiss.


    And above it all, I laughed. Like a goddamned maniac, despite my body wailing inside, afraid for dear life, I cackled like the craziest of villains. ¡°Motherfucker! They¡¯re alive! I saved them! I goddamned saved them!¡±


    I didn¡¯t know whether Jordan could hear my ravings, but it wouldn¡¯t have mattered either way. ¡°Fuck you and fuck this world!¡± I shouted, then called, ¡°Arcane Snare!¡±


    The spell didn¡¯t work. Jordan protected himself somehow, stopping me from killing us both. In hindsight, this was the only action of Jordan that I could consider myself thankful for.


    I didn¡¯t stop there, however. Anger and madness were the only saviors distracting me from the harsh reality. I was currently, utterly and unmistakably, kidnapped by cultists.


    ¡°Arcane Discharge!¡± I called, shooting magic at Jordan¡¯s body. He dodged without effort, simply changing his flight trajectory. He barely even looked at me.


    The trip continued, and so did my useless spells. It was a miracle that I didn¡¯t pass out in the process. We flew over the stone walls, between spires. Within a minute, we flew over the affluent neighborhoods, and back to the slums on the opposite end of the city.


    By the thirtieth or so arcane discharge, my mana chords exhausted, and spells no longer formed. Whatever reserves were in use for conjuring mana, the container had run out.


    We reached the perimeters of the city, where Jordan landed inside a shabby canopied watch tower. He undid the spell on my body, letting me fall limp on the wood.


    Ground. Dear God, ground. The feeling of wood below me was enough to return a speck of sanity, logical thoughts creeping in with the madness in command of my brain.


    Jordan ordered the previous watchmen for a long break. The normal-looking fellows hastily followed. When the place cleared, Jordan faced me. My breath was ragged, my heart attempting to make up for the blood flow it thought it had lost.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Jordan said, frowning down at me. ¡°A trained mage, and a crazy one at that. You have killed the first Archpriest. A commendable feat. Rigrith deserved what he got. Nonetheless, you will be punished for your actions.¡±


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± I asked with surprising confidence. My brain still ran on the slowly cracking lie that it had some control over the situation.


    ¡°Your mana chords,¡± Jordan Feryah said. ¡°My purpose was to train you before the Corruption could have its way. This process could have taken months. But seeing as you are already trained with proficient control over your mana¡­¡± He smiled weakly. ¡°You are to be taken directly to Azetoth. You, my dear mage, have saved me a great deal of time. If you do not resist, I will make the trip easy. Attempt to kill me, however, and a world of pain will find your way.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ will comply,¡± I said. Remy was alive. That was all that mattered. By this feat alone, I could deem my existence a success. ¡°But first, I have something to show you. Something very important.¡±


    Jordan raised his eyebrows. He watched as I slid my hand into the hidden pocket of my robe. I did it slowly to not scare Jordan into attacking.


    Then, as quickly as I could manage, I tossed Darko¡¯s stupid vial directly onto Jordan¡¯s feet, where I was sure the glass would crack.


    A cloud of grayish chemicals filled the watch tower in an instant. My eyes felt it first, as if my pupils were burning. Whatever I had just released into the air, my brain took it for pure poison. The slightest sniff of the powder was nearly enough to paralyze a grown man. I knew I wouldn''t retain my senses for long.


    I had energy for one last effort. ¡°Fireball!¡± I screamed, pointing my palm where Jordan Feryah¡¯s body had used to lay. The hellish process took part again, the blazing sensation of a fireball forming in my arms. The build-up took just long enough to remind me of the stupidly overtuned power I was releasing into the world.


    The watchtower went up in flames in an instant. Next I knew, the foothold disappeared, and I found myself at a freefall to be buried alongside collapsing wood.

 39: Slave Contract

    The first hints of consciousness arrived in the form of utter exhaustion. Aches littered my body, all in questionable places and from sources I couldn¡¯t quite recall. I knew I had passed out at some point during my day, but I struggled to remember how.


    I could only hope it wasn¡¯t Monday. If I had work today, if I somehow had to bring myself up from this miserable slumber back to that awful place¡­


    But wasn¡¯t I fired already? I was. I could stay in bed for as long as I wished, doing nothing all day long. Just a few more hours¡­ After that, surely, I could bring myself to stop being such a useless member of society.


    Who would really care if I slept all day? My colleagues, the people I had come to consider friends, forgot my existence the moment I was fired. My brother had pestered me into improvement but had quickly given up when his own life got in the way. My mother would ask for money, deeming me a useless son when I failed to provide.


    Was there anyone who would congratulate me if I, for once, succeeded in my life?


    A flash of light caught my eye. I squinted, as if I was some puppy unlocking sight for the first time.


    A white marble roof stood over me, lit by an awfully bright white gooey lamp. The tips of wooden sticks edged my vision, as if some trick-or-treaters were performing spells around my sleeping body. I clutched my bed sheets. The fabric seemed awfully clean for the state my apartment was usually in.


    What the fuck? I noted, then paused. This was not my apartment at all.


    I sprung up from bed, hitting my head against one of the wooden sticks. Consciousness returned like a light bulb flickering on, surroundings finally registering as reality. Richness covered the room. Shiny surfaces and sturdy walls reminiscent of a hospital room, and a comfy bed underneath me.


    Half a dozen women surrounded my bed. They wore white magely robes, all equipped with active staves casting spells on my person.


    I panicked and was about to flail my arms to scare away the bad mages when I realized my limbs barely moved. My skin was bruised purple, body pinching all over the place. Even breathing hurt like hell.


    ¡°A miracle,¡± one of the mages said. She lowered her staff. ¡°Well done, my assistants. Treat the remaining bruises. The man is far from a healthy recovery.¡±


    She was a tall woman in a white and silver robe. A halo-like tiara rested on her smooth hair. I stared in awe. Her robe was like a godly gown, something I could imagine Shiela wearing, though the woman was clearly human. Years of experience and wisdom radiated from her eyes, yet she appeared no older than thirty years old. With this world¡¯s beauty standards, she could have been fifty for all I knew.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I gushed. And before she could answer, I asked in a burst, ¡°My friends! Where are they? A fairy-looking mage, and a regular-looking mage? A red-haired swordsman? Are they okay?¡±


    ¡°I ask you to calm down, good sir, and the situation will clear one lesson at a time,¡± the royal mage said. ¡°I am Ausrine, the Sacred Priest. As the commoners call me, the ¡®King¡¯s healer.¡¯ The name alone should inform you of the severity of the situation you have tangled yourself in.¡±


    The King¡¯s healer? What in Shiela¡¯s name had happened to me?


    ¡°Where am I?¡± I asked. ¡°Are they still here? The cultists?¡±


    ¡°You, my good sir, have died and been revived back to life four times tonight,¡± Ausrine said.


    I paused.


    ¡°Twelve hours,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°That is how long my healers have watched over you. Twelve hours of life support from the best miracle workers in all of Kroses Sol, and we managed to wake you back to life. You could not have chosen a luckier city to die in.¡±


    The staves of the remaining mages continued casting healing spells on my body. The effects didn¡¯t feel too bad. My bruises stung with each spell, but it was the good kind of stinging, the kind you get when applying antiseptic to an infected wound. I wore nothing but underwear, though the mages worked with professionalism, uncaring of my near nakedness.


    ¡°I was scorched alive, wasn¡¯t I?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The burns were but a flesh wound,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°What nearly killed you was daze powder, and the unprotected inhalation of seemingly a vial¡¯s worth. Moons know why you decided this was a good idea, but I suspect you will be reminded of the consequences for a long time to come.¡±


    I stared at the burn marks littering my previously hairy legs. An itch poked at my scalp. I scratched the spot, only for my eyes to shoot up wide. ¡°Where¡¯s my hair!¡±


    ¡°That,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°Is unfortunately one of said consequences.¡±


    I sat still in shock. A fucking flesh wound, she said, and my hair was totally scorched off my head. Hell, I had looked awful with smooth skin and a head full of hair; any worse than that and I could imagine myself appearing like a disheveled piece of rotten meat.


    My appearance felt irrelevant amongst the canvas of problems.


    I¡¯d used the system again. Blasted tens of spells at Jordan Feryah and Rigrith. What had happened to Jordan? I struggled to recall. Something told me he had survived, despite the ridiculous power of my spells.


    The system had saved my life. I was no longer captured by cultists. Shiela damn me to hell, but her spells actually proved useful for once in my life.


    An awful pressure pinched at my heart, and it had nothing to do with my wounds or aches. I could barely breathe over the anticipation welling up in my throat, as if I was some stupid teenager in love.


    Remy. My teacher. Last I saw, she was alive, saved from certain death by my spells. So were my other two allies. I prayed to Shiela this was still the case.


    ¡°The second consequence relates to your future as a mage,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°Your actions in our country have been foolish. I hope you understand the severity of the risks you have taken.¡±


    ¡°Where are my friends?¡± I asked through a rough breath. ¡°Are they okay?¡±


    Ausrine looked me in the eye. ¡°You truly don¡¯t understand what you are tangled in, my good awakener. I fear you will not see your friends any time soon, nor do you have time to concern yourself with problems that are not your own.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I gushed. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°From now on and for the rest of your life,¡± Ausrine said, ¡°curiosity is not what will drive your questions. Such is the life of an awakener. You are a captive of the King¡¯s first priority. You are a prisoner, until evidence points to innocence. An investigation into your person has already started, though the little details are not of current importance. What is of our absolute priority, is to plan out your future as a mage.¡±


    What the hell? I thought. Another wave of panicked worry washed over me. ¡°What do you mean? What¡¯s happening to me? Where am I?¡±


    ¡°You are resting in the temple of Arkber, delivered to me personally as an emergency,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°Ordinarily, the Sacred Priest is not known for working on simple casualties. Your Hallowed mana chords, however, are far too valuable to let go to waste.¡±


    ¡°I was brought here?¡± I asked. ¡°By who?¡±


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    ¡°Questions are not important,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°What matters is the present situation, and the fact that your mana chords are untreated and in desperate need of a teacher.¡±


    ¡°Uhm,¡± I blurted out. ¡°I don¡¯t think all this is necessary. I would like to get out of here¡­¡±


    ¡°A recent awakener¡¯s fate is always a nation¡¯s first priority,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°What makes you think you¡¯re an exception?¡±


    ¡°I am a learned student of James Adamson from the town of America. You, um, have no need to teach me a second time.¡±


    Ausrine¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Please. I do not wish to talk to you like I would a child. Our informants have admitted to everything. You are a total beginner. Lies will only make your future worse than it already is.¡±


    What informants! I thought. Who the hell spilled the beans?


    ¡°The Corruption must be quelled,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°And thus, you must understand what happens next. Attempt to lie once more, and my mages will leave your bruises for nature to heal.¡±


    ¡°Uhm, yes¡­¡± I said weakly. ¡°I will comply. But please, can I see them? My friends. Just once, to know they¡¯re okay.¡±


    ¡°Your friends have abandoned you,¡± Ausrine said with a scowl. ¡°Their fates are not of your concern.¡±


    What? Abandoned? No. They wouldn¡¯t. This was a lie.


    ¡°Darko, the Wyvern Slayer, has admitted to his crimes and been arrested,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°He does not intend to save you back to his criminal group. The legend of your former party has ended, and it will never spark again.¡±


    I felt my inner organs attempting to escape through my mouth. ¡°What about the other two? The mages? Are they alive?¡±


    ¡°I would not know,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°And I remind you, your criminal friends are irrelevant. I recommend forgetting their existence before your wishes grow into trouble. For the next months, every thought in your head will be directed towards the study of magic.¡±


    I sat in place, letting the healers work on my body. What the hell was this? Ausrine was lying, I knew she was. My friends couldn¡¯t have abandoned me.


    Right?


    ¡°If you finally understand, let us proceed.¡± Ausrine signaled for the uniformed man at the doors. ¡°Butler. Inform the officials of the awakener¡¯s wakeup. We are to proceed immediately.¡±


    The servant bowed, then scurried off to follow orders.


    I had no more lies to spout. I waited in nervous silence, thoughts spinning in circles. The servant returned two minutes later. Along with him strolled the most authoritative woman I had yet come across. She was dressed much like Shena, in common robes and stockings. Difference was, her outfit and staff were littered with medals and symbols, embroidery, and other nonsensical ornaments on top. A classy black braid hung over her shoulder. She stepped into the room with confidence, followed by a personal servant.


    Her spectacled gaze landed on me with the energy of a strict and overly serious teacher. I sat in baffled fear of whatever fate had prepared for me this time.


    Ausrine and her servants offered a slight bow. ¡°Ceanna St. Clair,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°The chief of recruitment. A representative and an official of the Mages¡¯ Association. A phenomenal mage, and the best of teachers. It is an honor to have you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Ausrine,¡± Ceanna said. ¡°Seeing as this awakener¡¯s fate is already pressed for time, I ask your mages to continue the process. It would not be proper of me to distrust the King¡¯s best mages. Healers, please forget every word of this conversation when you step out of this room.¡±


    ¡°Our words are sealed by the Moons¡¯ all-seeing light,¡± Ausrine said with a small bow.


    Ceanna nodded, then faced me, as if nobody else in the room existed beside me and her. ¡°Outsider, Cilan. An awakener smuggled in by a Guild Master in Vol¨¦s. This was the extent of information offered to me by informants, who seem to be just as clueless about your origins as our investigators. It is not uncommon for strangers to show up on my recruitment list, though you are by far the oddest arrival I have ever received.¡±


    Who the hell are you, and why are you here! I wished to ask. Instead, my nervous ass said, ¡°Uhm, yes.¡±


    ¡°Your rich background was hinted at,¡± Ceanna said. ¡°Your lineage and connections, however, are deemed secondary from the moment you entered Kroses Sol. By trotting our lands, legally or illegally, you have admitted to the rule of the Mages¡¯ Association. We seek to ensure that no untrained mages walk the lands of the Krose. If you cannot prove your control over mana or cannot prove you are currently taught by a licensed teacher, the Association has no choice but to treat you as a possible threat.¡±


    I stared at her with my eyes struggling to focus, barely understanding half of what she was saying. My emotions were a total mess. Why couldn¡¯t these people just tell me what happened to my friends?


    ¡°This leaves you with two options,¡± Ceanna said. ¡°To accept teachings by the Mages¡¯ Association, or to leave the country with your own, while escorted out by a force powerful enough to suppress a possible rogue escape. Seeing as I have been invited, I assume you are inclined towards the former.¡±


    Darko wouldn¡¯t abandon the plan so quickly, would he? What about his promise to protect me! What about all our plans? Surely, Darko hadn¡¯t sent me here?


    ¡°Unfortunately, I cannot leave you with time to ponder this decision,¡± Ceanna continued. ¡°Your lessons will commence immediately from the moment you are physically capable of stepping out of this bed. Before that, however, I require your name. Your true name, the one tied to you at birth.¡±


    ¡°Cillian,¡± I said, seeing no opportunity to lie, though my heart was racing. This was insanity! ¡°Cillian Bermeyer.¡±


    Ceanna signaled to her servant, who delivered a piece of parchment. Then, she scribbled something onto the paper, presumably my name. Ceanna showed the paper to me. ¡°The final step is to sign the contract. All I require is a drop of your blood with your willingness to follow my teachings, and I can guarantee, the Corruption will not turn you crazy.¡±


    My brain totally blanked. Darko, that motherfucker. Didn¡¯t he promise to take care of me? Why, then, had he abandoned me to this shithole? Surely, I wasn¡¯t supposed to be here!


    ¡°Could you¡­¡± I managed to ask, ¡°read the contract for me, please?¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± Ceanna said. ¡°Though, know that your chances of disputing its contents are slim.¡± She read out the parchment.


    ¡°Cillian Bermeyer, the recent awakener of Hallowed mana chords, is tied to the Mages¡¯ Association to be trained under licensed teacher Ceanna St. Clair. The subject will follow each agreement with devotion, the terms of which are reinforced by a forceful contract.


    ¡°One. The subject cannot refuse the orders of the designated teacher. If given an order, the student must complete the specified task, even if this means the subject must risk death for the task to be completed. Leisure and rest are not allowed unless deemed otherwise.


    ¡°Two. The subject cannot escape the perimeters of designated premises. If the student does not know whether they have the right to step to specific perimeters, they must stay confined before receiving permission for otherwise.


    ¡°Three¡­¡±


    The terms continued. As I listened, my views of the world got less and less bright. In short, if I signed this behemoth of a contract, my life would play out exactly as my future teacher demanded. Ceanna could order me to jump down a well as punishment, and I would have no choice but to comply. And if I ever happened to fail at whatever her tasks asked me to do, I didn¡¯t have much choice but to bash my head against a wall and hope I miraculously succeeded.


    Hell, just yesterday I was complaining that Remy¡¯s teachings were too hard, and that I would have given up if I ever had the chance. Now, Remy was like my golden savior. I wished to see her so badly, if only to make sure she hadn¡¯t been harmed by Rigrith and his junkies.


    Was it too much to ask? Just to see my friends?


    One thing was clear. There was no way in hell I could ever sign that contract.


    ¡°With that, the terms are concluded,¡± Ceanna said. ¡°Was anything unclear?¡±


    ¡°Can I at least see the Wyvern Slayer first?¡± I asked. ¡°Just long enough to punch him in the face.¡±


    ¡°This would take far too much time,¡± Ceanna said. ¡°You, of course, are allowed to meet your old master if fate so wishes. Yet, fate is often cruel. This is a fact most mages learn sooner than later. Everyone, including I, had to be trained with a contract similar to this. If it helps make you feel better, a man of your talent is bound to rise the ranks of the Association, as long as your loyalty is confirmed.


    ¡°And if that, too, is not enough to persuade you¡­ Know that the true hell arrives to those who refuse to learn. To those who fight fate, pretending as if they never awakened in the first place. If that is what you choose, I am afraid your life will be cut rather short.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not doing this.¡±


    Ceanna raised her eyebrows. ¡°Are you telling me you would rather fall to the Corruption, and for us to kill you in your madness?¡±


    ¡°What if,¡± I asked, ¡°I could prove to you that I don¡¯t need a teacher? What if I can prove I can cast magic, and that the Corruption is not an issue? Can I leave this place, then?¡±


    ¡°That would be impossible for a recent awakener.¡± Ceanna''s eyes gradually grew impatient. ¡°However, it would deem you free of responsibility. The Association would no longer have a reason to chase you.¡±


    I let out a small chuckle. This was my life, wasn¡¯t it? I was already too deep. As much as I wanted to live my own damn peaceful life, as much as I tried to promise myself I would not delve into Shiela¡¯s system, it seemed I had no choice but to perform the play the Goddess was pulling me into.


    ¡°What if I told you¡­¡± I said. ¡°That I am not actually a recent awakener at all. And that whatever your informants have claimed, it¡¯s all total lies.¡±

 40: Proof

    Ceanna stared at me as if I had announced myself a domestic terrorist. Her expression remained doubtful, as if trying to figure out which iteration of madness had made me say something so stupid.


    ¡°This,¡± she eventually said, ¡°would be highly unlikely. However, as a member of the Association, I am obliged to offer you a chance to prove yourself. Show me your weaving of mana. If it is deemed controlled, you are free to go. I will remind you that a rogue wave of uncontrolled magic does not qualify as controlled.¡±


    ¡°Uhm, that¡¯s a bit of a problem,¡± I said. ¡°You see, I can¡¯t actually weave mana. I only know how to cast destructive spells.¡±


    Ceanna breathed in. ¡°I fear you will have to sign the contract, Cillian.¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± I said. ¡°I can prove my control over mana. I just, um, well, can you promise me you won¡¯t attack me if I cast an example?¡±


    ¡°Listen, young man,¡± Ceanna said. ¡°It is about time you stop playing with me. I am known as a polite teacher by most of my students. This does not mean I will sit idle while blatant lies are poured over me. If you do not get serious about this, forceful methods will be incorporated.¡±


    I took a deep breath. It seemed I had no choice. I pointed my mental focus at Ceanna and calmly said, ¡°Arcane Snare.¡±


    Mana surged from my heart into my chords. The mana flowed through the ¡°pores¡± of my mana chords, turning into magic as it reached the outside world. Technically, I wove mana into magic, exactly as Remy had taught. Difference was, the casting was performed automatically by a Goddess. The process must have appeared skillful to an outsider at the very least.


    The spell tangled around Ceanna without the slightest issue, purple circles of arcane ensnaring her tight. Shock filled her features, and the piece of parchment fell out of her hands.


    The mages healing my body shared the reaction. Staves of healing quickly turned into weapons pointed at my unmoving body as the whole room tried to figure out what exactly had just happened.


    ¡°I did warn you,¡± I said. ¡°James Adamson didn¡¯t go easy on me. Actually, he taught me quite a few tricks.¡±


    Ceanna struggled for breath. ¡°Take this off me¡­¡±


    I paused, an awkward smile on my face. ¡°Uhm, I apologize, but my master didn¡¯t teach me how to retract this spell.¡±


    ¡°Damned trickster!¡± Ceanna called. ¡°You will regret this. The Association will not forgive such lies.¡±


    ¡°I have not lied,¡± I said. ¡°It was the Wyvern Slayer who mistook me for a beginner.¡±


    Ceanna scowled at me from her snare, face red with a mix of embarrassment and hatred. ¡°Who are you?¡±


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    ¡°Cillian Bermeyer,¡± I said. ¡°Regretfully, a mage.¡±


    Confused looks filled the room. I scratched my temple and turned towards Ausrine with an awkward smile. ¡°Uhm, I was serious when I said I can¡¯t retract that spell. Could you please untie her?¡±


    Ausrine and her mages got to work untying my Arcane magic, a task which took them fifteen seconds of teamwork. Far longer than what Rigrith had used to blast open the snares with pure strength. My spell must have leveled up.


    ¡°Well,¡± Ceanna said, finally untied and free. The look on her face said she was more than a little flustered. ¡°It appears we have had a misunderstanding. Cillian, you have proven yourself to be a qualified mage. Darko, the Wyvern Slayer, will be punished for providing misinformation. By the Association¡¯s law, Cillian is free of responsibility. The Corruption will not be a problem for this man. Though I presume the King has his own qualms and crimes that need answering. Goodbye.¡±


    Darko provided the information? I thought. Seriously?


    With one last scowl, Ceanna and her servant stepped out of the doors, leaving the bedchambers in baffled silence.


    ¡°Sorry about that¡­¡± I eventually said. ¡°Could I go now, please?¡±


    The irritated face of the Sacred Priest turned to me. ¡°The King will want to see you.¡±


    ¡°Is there a law that forces me to meet him, or does he just want to meet me?¡±


    Ausrine¡¯s brows visibly twitched. ¡°You sure are ostentatious for someone whose life has been saved from certain death.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, flushing a slight bit. ¡°I don¡¯t intend to be rude. I just¡­ Why do you all have to be so cruel?¡±


    ¡°Cillian,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°You are a captive. Do not forget this. There are crimes to which your involvement is undeniable. My earlier statements still hold true. Your stay with your criminal gang is over, and your friends are not coming to save you. Your crimes are yours to answer.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ What am I being charged with?¡±


    ¡°This is a matter to be discussed with investigators,¡± Ausrine said. ¡°My team has healed you, as has been our task. It is your responsibility to pay for our service. I can do no more than to inform the King of your situation.¡±


    I nodded and asked her to do just that. If clearing my name was all I had to do to meet my friends, it seemed I had no choice but to hold a few conversations.


    Ausrine exited the room, leaving the healers to tend to my remaining wounds, and the wait began. My body did not calm once. The anticipation grew, as if my worries would kill me from the inside.


    It¡¯s simply not true, I thought. They wouldn¡¯t abandon me. It¡¯s not possible¡­


    Yet, behind my arguments, a grueling fact loomed tall overhead. Darko had sent me here. Whatever his purpose was, he had revealed the plan, leaving me off for royal mages.


    Did he truly intend to never see me again? The possibility of this unnerved me more than I would have liked to admit. It wasn¡¯t like Darko was my close brother. We barely met days ago. Yet, for some reason, I thought we were closer...


    What about the girls? Had they abandoned me, too?


    Were they even alive?


    I tried to pester my healers for more information, but nobody could answer a damn thing. After my third attempt at gaining information, responses stopped coming altogether. I had no choice but to sit still in my own nervousness, hoping to dear god that the cultists hadn¡¯t mangled the others to death.


    The King would provide answers. I would make certain he did.

 41: Talented And Invaluable

    Despite the protests of my healers, who claimed my injuries would require days of rest at the very minimum, I was clad in spare royal attire, including stockings and an oversized robe, and was told to move. I put on the oddly uncomfortable outfit without grumbles and complied.


    My limbs squealed as I operated my body, but most of my muscles responded with minimal pain. On top of the mages¡¯ healing, the surge of Shiela¡¯s mana through my body seemed to have healed some of my wounds. Sadly, however, my hair didn¡¯t magically regrow.


    The escorts led me into a cramped chamber. An empty room, but for one table and a blindingly bright white lamp overhead. The heavy door was locked shut with magically inscribed steel bars from the outside. Not that I had any intention of escaping regardless.


    I was told to wait. So I did, tapping my foot repeatedly over the same old worries. This was not the context I had expected to meet the King in. I had no idea what anyone wanted of me. Why was I meeting with the King at all?


    Hell, I barely even knew my own goals. What did I need from the King¡¯s audience? To figure out what was going on?


    No. The goal was to get out of here. To find the team, and to make sure everyone was alive and well.


    Five or so minutes later, investigators appeared in the room. They introduced themselves hastily, treating me with suspicious politeness. My presence as a mage must have put them on edge. They asked their questions. Namely, they were curious about why exactly I had chosen to burn myself along with one of their watch towers.


    I saw no reason to lie and answered honestly, though I didn¡¯t mention names. I told them I was kidnapped by a cultist mage, whom I defeated by sacrificing myself. And thus, I ended up nearly burning myself alive. The investigators clearly doubted my claims, though had no choice but to accept the explanation, seeing as the details matched with what witnesses had seen.


    A few lesser charges and questions came my way, none of which were particularly serious. The charge of casting a fireball within city limits was dismissed, as I hadn¡¯t destroyed anything but a scrappy watch tower by the poorer part of town, and I had a valid reason for doing what I did.


    Additionally, or perhaps more importantly, I was asked about my background. Where and when had I come to the country? What was I doing here, and why was I a part of Darko¡¯s group?


    I stuck with my previous improvisation, claiming I was a dedicated student of Master magician James Adamson from the small countryside town of America. I¡¯d traveled to this country simply to fuck around and explore, and along the way happened to meet a bunch of people I could call teammates. Thus, I joined Darko¡¯s group. Nothing more to it than that.


    The investigators ate up my answers with suspicion but didn¡¯t argue. I was again told to wait, presumably while my answers were brought to the higher-ups for examination.


    Afterward, the real investigation began.


    A woman with golden blonde hair stepped into the negotiation chambers along with a bald man whose demeanor displayed everything but awkwardness. Their uniforms acted as status symbols more than clothes; filled with medals and expenses, these were the types of outfits one stepped away from when passing on the streets.


    ¡°Cillian Bermeyer¡­¡± the man said. ¡°It is an honor to meet. My name is Angus Grey. The chief constable of Arkber, and the lead of this investigation. This is my assistant, Daphine Belyris. The King wishes to meet you. Please follow us.¡±


    Nervously, I stood and complied. The two distinguished investigators acted as my escorts. We walked through pristine hallways, stepping on carpets far cleaner and smoother than anything I had ever seen on Earth. Chandeliers hung from tall roofs, masterful paintings lining the walls. Despite the lack of windows, the temple was lively, and no musty smells filled the air. This much could be expected of a royal establishment, but I found myself impressed nonetheless. The walls and floors were smooth and solid, too clean for me to touch, and the same went for every piece of furniture and adornment.


    My escorts led me to an indoor balcony with a tall dome roof, at the end of which we entered through double doors, into the grandest room I had seen in a long time. The King¡¯s throne room.


    Columns lined the long hall, nobles in lavish outfits standing in between. Swords and staves were spread all around to dissuade any intentions of fighting back. The room itself wasn¡¯t crowded with ornaments and furniture, but artistic design shone nonetheless. Stained glass covered the high walls like oversized paintings. Colored light poured through the windows. It was as if LEDs shone behind the glass to provide a pretty backlight.


    From the throne directly ahead, an orc with a crown on its head stared me down. I paused under his gaze.


    The King was not just a big man; he owned the type of genetic anomaly that made men grow twice their intended size. That was only a slight exaggeration. The King barely fit on his throne, let alone in the cloak he wore. Next to him stood a smaller but still burly man, sharing the same facial features with the King. A Prince, I presumed.


    I realized the walk was far from over and resumed my steps. We passed column after column, eventually making it to the end of the long red carpet pointing at the King¡¯s stepped platform. My escorts knelt and bowed.


    I imitated their posture as best I could, though I likely butchered every single element of what made the kneel respectful in the first place. I hoped I would gain a participation trophy for trying.


    ¡°Raise your heads,¡± the King said.


    I stood, facing the King. My heart raced like all shit. I felt utterly trapped. Distinguished suits all around, witnesses judging my every moment. This was not an even negotiation ground. Not in the slightest. The King practically had swords pointed at my neck. If he so wished, he could have ended my life in an instant.


    Still, I managed to hold eye contact, clinging to it as my only hope, like the last lifeboat in a sinking ship. In these situations, a negotiator didn¡¯t have much choice. I was glued to my confident posture by force, no matter how many judgeful stares the audience directed at me.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± I said, spouting some nonsense from the top of my head. ¡°It is an honor.¡±


    ¡°Cillian Bermeyer,¡± the King said. ¡°A curious arrival. The honor is ours. It is not often royalty comes across mages as talented as you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the kind words,¡± I said. ¡°My talents are largely exaggerated.¡±


    The King let out a burst of laughter. ¡°The most talented are often the worst of liars, as my men keep reminding me. Talents such as you and I cannot pretend alongside the common-born. Our fates have led us to grander purposes.¡±


    ¡°The world has taught me I cannot disagree, as much as I would like to pretend,¡± I said, sprinkling in some personality behind the words. Some buildup of character usually went a long way in negotiations. Perhaps the King would offer some mercy.


    ¡°I will spare us from the argument of compliments,¡± the King said. ¡°My mages must have praised you enough already. We both share questions and answers for far more pressing topics.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I agreed.


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    ¡°My scholars have looked into your claims.¡± The King¡¯s tone switched. He spoke with clear confrontation behind his words, intending to make me uncomfortable. ¡°They studied each bit of information within their deepest sea of wisdom. It is clear that a town by the name of America does not exist.¡±


    ¡°Uhm, America is a subjective place, Your Majesty,¡± I said with a hopefully respectful bow. ¡°I travel not from one country, but from them all. Such is the lifestyle of my master, James Adamson.¡±


    The King studied me. ¡°You are travelers?¡±


    ¡°James Adamson always seemed to lack a purpose in life,¡± I said.


    ¡°Fools, the two of you,¡± the King said. ¡°It is a shame you did not bring your master with you, young mage. A wiser man would know not to involve oneself in the matter of another country¡¯s criminals.¡±


    ¡°I apologize, Your Majesty,¡± I said with more hesitation in my tone than I would have liked to show. The King¡¯s pressure was working, dammit. ¡°Causing trouble was not the intention.¡±


    ¡°Darko, the Wyvern Slayer,¡± the King said. ¡°Remyer Ravilles. Shena, the escapee. All criminals associated with this scheme. You, Cillian Bermeyer, have chosen an awful bunch of criminals to team up with. Mages of your caliber believe themselves to be invincible. Powerful you might be, but a lone man can only achieve so much. No criminal can fight the royalty of an entire country. I intend to punish you justly.¡±


    I lowered my head, heart racing. The King knew our names! But hadn¡¯t we just defeated Rigrith, the first Archpriest? I nearly killed Jordan Feryah. The cultists were the royalty¡¯s enemies. What could have changed us from Heroes to criminals in the twelve hours I was asleep?


    It¡¯s an intimidation tactic, I thought. The King wants something from me. He¡¯s making me feel pressured.


    ¡°I apologize, Your Majesty,¡± I said. ¡°What is me and my team being charged with?¡±


    ¡°The destruction of Arkber¡¯s inner streets,¡± the King said. ¡°The robbery of an unsuspecting tailor shop. The escape and avoidance of royal investigation. The crimes go on with a myriad of lies. The charges are pressed on Darko, the Wyvern Slayer, who has admitted to full guilt and responsibility in dragging you into his team. You are guilty through association.¡±


    I paused for a moment. ¡°Did Darko bring me here?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± the King said. ¡°The Wyvern Slayer carried your charred corpse directly to the gates. A valiant deed to end his career. You may thank your old boss for saving your life, going as far as taking the financial burden of your treatment into his own hands. It is clear, however, that he will never earn enough to pay for the full operation. This leaves us with my problem. You, Cillian Bermeyer, owe a great debt to the throne, and to the Sacred Priest whose healers have saved your life.¡±


    ¡°I am deeply grateful,¡± I said. And after hesitation, added, ¡°How much do I owe?¡±


    ¡°The sum is a thousand gold marks,¡± the King said. ¡°A cheap price for employing the best of Krose healers for a full night and beyond.¡±


    I didn¡¯t ask to be healed, I wished to say. It seemed anywhere I lived, America or this shithole, medical bills were always inflated to all hell. Still, I couldn¡¯t exactly argue.


    ¡°This sum would cost an entire village fifteen generations to pay off,¡± the King continued. ¡°Even for the richest of adventurers, a thousand gold marks is a life-ruining sum. I do not wish to place such a burden on your head. Thus, I propose an alternative solution to our problems.¡± The King¡¯s piercing eyes could have very well sent a shockwave through my body. ¡°Join me.¡±


    My line of bullshit had no immediate response. I had no idea what I could have said to place me in a favorable position.


    ¡°You will join Prince Vitek and Daphine Belyris on the hunt for Azetoth¡¯s cult,¡± the King said. ¡°Starting tomorrow, you will work under your two new bosses, following their orders to defeat cultist hideouts. Your achievements will be used as contributions to your debts.¡±


    No! I thought. Absolutely not!


    I used the King¡¯s proposal as an excuse to pause and think. I had tools, that much I knew. I was a powerful mage with achievements behind my back, all of which I could use to gain credibility for myself. I could likely use the name of Jordan Feryah to incite the King¡¯s ears to hear my proposals. Yet, I couldn¡¯t figure out a proficient line of attack. If anything, my achievements would only make me more desirable.


    I was arguing with a goddamned medieval King. If he wanted to, the King could have ordered me for torture, and I wouldn¡¯t have had one chance to disagree.


    ¡°It would not be proper to place a mage of your caliber under a forceful contract,¡± the King said. ¡°I do, however, have another proposal that might interest you. Angus. Deliver the artifacts.¡±


    Angus Grey bowed, then stepped up the platform. He offered the King a small slab-shaped tablet and a black wallet. The King held up both items. ¡°Do these belong to you?¡±


    My eyes shot wide. ¡°My phone!¡±


    The King grinned wide, and I realized my mistake. ¡°As an added favor for good service, royalty has retrieved this pfone, found in the church of Vol¨¦s. We will return your belongings to the rightful owner, but only after the debts are paid.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said with a slight bow. ¡°This is a tempting offer indeed. I promise to pay back. I wish to offer my gratitude to your healers for saving my life.¡±


    ¡°The operation was not a gift,¡± the King said. ¡°Remember this, young mage. Join me, and repay the favor.¡±


    ¡°I am inclined,¡± I said. ¡°However¡­ Before I lock in my decision, I must also make a request.¡±


    ¡°Permission granted,¡± the King said. ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°I request two hours,¡± I said. ¡°To consider the decision. There are¡­ unfinished matters I wish to conclude in the city. I cannot give you an answer before my work in the city is complete.¡±


    The King stared back at me. ¡°Very well. Two hours. Return to the temple before dusk with your answer. The guards will grant you free entry.¡±


    I bowed. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Cillian,¡± the King reminded. ¡°Do not let my showcase of respect backfire. Attempt to escape, and I will not hesitate to make you the third most wanted man in the country.¡±


    The words were emphasized with a deathly stare. Believe me, I took his words to heart.


    ***


    I was escorted out of the premises by guards on all sides of me. The scorching moons welcomed me to an odd place I hadn¡¯t seen in ages.


    Civilization.


    Arkber¡¯s walls loomed in the distance. They didn¡¯t circle away from me, telling me to turn around. Instead, they welcomed me with a warm embrace. The same was true for the streets and buildings. I was faced with a paved road decorated with greenery and blessed with clean air. The streetside buildings were of brick or respectable painted wood, all with tiled roofs and windowsill pottery.


    Respectable outfits filled traffic; richer, even, than the average attire in New York. Palanquins or handcarts transported the extra wealthy, whose outfits were too pristine even for the cleanest of streets.


    My escorts bowed, then closed the gates, dropping me off as if I belonged here.


    I stood still in awe, watching the bustling activity of a healthy street. Passersby of Arkber didn¡¯t worry about where they could take their next shit, or when the next crazy cultist would kidnap them into slavery. These people lived real lives with real securities. And I was dropped off alongside them.


    In a bizarre sense, I was free. No more responsibilities to quell the Corruption. No more slave contracts shoved down my face. No more forceful missions to fight the cult. All I had to do was decline the King¡¯s offer¡ªassuming debt was the only thing tying me to his service¡ªand I was free to live my life. Indebted to all hell, sure, but free.


    No. To truly believe that was naive. I wasn¡¯t free in the slightest.


    Cultists were still after me. Jordan Feryah was likely still alive, and undoubtedly pissed off about what I¡¯d done to him. The news of Rigrith¡¯s fate would make it to the cult leaders, after which my life would be seen as the grand prize for the strongest criminals in the entire world to hunt. I was anything but safe.


    I needed protection. I needed allies.


    I needed friends.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I asked a passing middle-aged man in a blue and white suit who happened to be looking in my direction. ¡°Could you tell me where the ¡®Sapphire Inn¡¯ is?¡±


    ¡°Sapphire inn?¡± the man asked. ¡°Haven¡¯t heard of it. Has to be a thieves¡¯ nest. The name rings a crumbling estate with a fancy name to add value to the beer sales.¡±


    Right, I thought. Outside the walls.


    I thanked the man, then hurried my way towards the walls, desperately hoping that Remy and Shena were still waiting for me.

 42: Are Friends Too Much To Ask For?

    ¡°The Sapphire Inn?¡± a roughed-up man said. His wry smile missed more than a few teeth. ¡°Why, it¡¯s right there, across the street. I was just about to head in for a beer.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. He must have been the tenth person I asked after a long search. Simply getting out through the walls had been a pain, let alone figuring out which quarter of the city the Sapphire Inn belonged to. I really should have paid better attention to my surroundings during Darko¡¯s tour.


    Ever since leaving the temple, I¡¯d felt as if something was watching me, and I didn¡¯t doubt my intuition. The King must have sent spies after me to make sure I didn¡¯t escape. Worked just fine by me.


    With the crooked man¡¯s directions, I rushed over to the Inn I now recognized. I entered through the unlocked front entrance. The canteen bustled with laughter, people all around filling tables. A sore taste filled my mouth. Hadn¡¯t Darko rented this whole place for our privacy?


    ¡°Hey,¡± I told the innkeeper, who was no longer lounging.


    The innkeeper eyed my outfit suspiciously. ¡°Come for a drink, Your Highness?¡±


    ¡°Are they here?¡± I asked. ¡°The girls, Shena and Remy?¡±


    ¡°Ah, the mages.¡± The innkeeper¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Left two hours ago. Damn idiots dared ask for their money back, telling me to reopen the shop. The red-hair adventurer was apparently arrested.¡±


    ¡°They left?¡± I asked. ¡°Then, they¡¯re alive?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± the innkeeper said. ¡°And if you are not here for a drink or a room, I will ask you to leave too.¡±


    I let out a chuckle, fueled by an emotion I couldn¡¯t quite identify. Shena and Remy were alive. I had successfully saved them. The cultists hadn¡¯t mutilated them. Holy shit.


    ¡°Did they tell you where they were going?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± the innkeeper said. ¡°When has a woman, let alone a mage, ever told you something that wasn¡¯t a scheme?¡±


    ¡°Any messages?¡± I asked. ¡°A letter for anyone looking to find them? Did they leave anything to help me find them?¡±


    The innkeeper sighed. ¡°You are out of luck, boy. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I stood still with my mouth open for a moment, about to argue further. Instead, I said, ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± I walked out of the doors, emotions relaxing to numbness.


    I slumped down by the front steps and took a breath to calm myself. I had found what I had come looking for. Nobody was dead, thank the gods. I wasn¡¯t responsible for yet another murder.


    I could sleep at night without deadly worries. My spells hadn¡¯t accidentally killed someone, and I hadn¡¯t accidentally killed myself. All around, yesterday¡¯s situation had gone just about as perfectly as it could have.


    I was free to restart my life. In the King¡¯s captivity, sure, but I wasn¡¯t tied to a contract. And my new allies, Daphine Belyris and the Prince, would protect me from the cult. They¡¯d do a far better job than my old team ever had.


    Everything was well. I could go back to the King¡¯s crib peacefully now.


    That was the end of that, then¡­


    I buried my face in my hands. I took a deep breath, smelling the dirt and grease on my palms. The awful smells were the only help in keeping me from totally losing it.


    They abandoned me. Of course they did. I was stupid to call myself a friend. Wasn¡¯t it made clear from the start that I was nothing but a liability? I was kept along because throwing me out would cause problems. I was kept in the plan because I had the possibility of making myself useful, not because anyone actually cared about me as a person.


    It was just like back then. When I was fired from my job. The exact same situation, the exact same type of friends surrounding me.


    Every side was the same. Corporations, employees. Friends, family. Royalty, cultists. Adventurers. No matter who I involved myself with, I was always disposable. If I wasn¡¯t useful, I was thrown out when convenient.


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    And now I was all alone. The only people who wanted me were cultists who wished to mangle me to death, and royalty who wished to abuse my magic for their own power.


    I couldn¡¯t blame anyone. Who in their right mind would ever want to be friends with someone as miserable as I?


    Tears flowed from between my fingers. I tried to control myself for a moment but failed. Then I gave up.


    Don¡¯t ask me for my justifications. I just couldn¡¯t take this anymore. So, I cried. There wasn¡¯t much more to it. I simply did not enjoy being myself at that moment. I hated this world.


    I had tried, hadn¡¯t I? I truly put in my best.


    It wasn¡¯t good enough. It never was.


    ¡°Sir,¡± a man¡¯s voice said, peeking out from the door. The innkeeper frowned at me. ¡°I am sorry to interrupt, but you are blocking the door.¡±


    Slowly, I stood up, stepped a little to the side, then leaned against the wall.


    The innkeeper¡¯s look remained. He sighed. ¡°Lost your girl, did you?¡±


    I sniffled back tears. ¡°I think I¡¯ve lost my love for existing as a whole.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the innkeeper said. ¡°I truly am. It happens, and it never feels good. Things don¡¯t always work out. Trust me, I¡¯ve seen the same, and the same will continue to happen to anyone and everyone. Girls rarely pick the first guy their eyes lay upon. All you can do is stand up and try your luck next time.¡±


    I wish rejection was my only problem¡­


    ¡°I really am sorry for you, know that,¡± the innkeeper said. ¡°But I will ask you to move somewhere else. Your crying highness is directing customers away.¡±


    I took a deep breath. Then another. Then, instead of running off in tears¡ªa decision that I was close to making¡ªI asked the innkeeper, ¡°Do you know where carriages most often depart the city?¡±


    The innkeeper let out a deep chuckle. ¡°Planning to chase, huh? A terrible idea.¡±


    ¡°I just need to wish goodbye,¡± I said.


    The innkeeper cast a suspicious look, then said, ¡°Watch the western highway, the one that leads to the capital. If they really wish to avoid you, they won¡¯t use the most popular routes, but most hired rides pass through the safest roads.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°Where¡¯s west?¡±


    The innkeeper took a breath, then pointed further ahead in the road. ¡°The highway is right there. Can¡¯t miss it. Good luck. And don¡¯t you dare be a weirdo about this.¡±


    I nodded, then turned to the direction. I weaved between traffic, nudging people out of my way. I ran wherever I had room, forgetting to as much as apologize for the moments my inconsiderate self ruined.


    I felt like a total creep. If Remy and Shena didn¡¯t want to meet me, they didn¡¯t want to meet me. Their minds wouldn¡¯t be changed if I ran after them. But¡­ I just wanted to hear the words out of their own mouths. To truly confirm nobody wanted me.


    The alleys opened up, and I found myself by the edge of a highway with enough room for two carriages on both sides and foot traffic to add. People of all sorts strolled the road. Mostly the poor, though I spotted a few richer rides leaving the city, the drivers fuming silently as poorer carriages slowed down in front of them.


    I looked both ways of the vast highway. Shena and Remy were nowhere to be seen, understandably so. As I watched traffic pass, a dread filled up inside me. This was a stupid idea. How in the hell would I ever find anyone in this sea of chaos?


    I didn¡¯t know. My nerves, however, required me to act. I mingled myself into the traffic. My eyes jumped from target to target, trying to decipher which carriage could possibly house Remy and Shena. A red carriage with awnings and pretty horses? No, the mages would never step into what looked like a carnival ride. What about a generic wooden ride with a scrawny but scowling rider? Sure, I could imagine them picking the worst of rides.


    That deduction didn¡¯t help, considering I spotted a dozen rides matching the exact description without having to move my head.


    I searched aimlessly and helplessly for roughly ten minutes before deeming my search utterly pointless. This just wasn¡¯t going to work. I could sit down and cry, and I¡¯d have the same chances of finding my target. My body wished to do just that.


    I did not comply. Instead, I rushed to a nearby alley, choosing one with a minimal amount of people outside. I had one last desperation plan up my sleeves.


    I shouted at the rooftops. ¡°Royal spies! Help! Come down to talk! I need help!¡±


    The few passersby looked at me like I was insane. The street cleared around me, window shutters closing with thumps. ¡°Please!¡± I called. ¡°I need help!¡±


    I waited and waited, occasionally repeating my call. ¡°I know you¡¯re there,¡± I tried to say. My cries for help grew more and more uncertain. Maybe I truly was alone. ¡°Please¡­¡±


    Just as I was about to give up hope, a figure approached from deeper in the alley. A lightly dressed woman, wearing what I would describe as a rogue¡¯s vest. She didn¡¯t exactly look pleased with me.


    ¡°Sir,¡± the woman said. ¡°We are spies, not personal assistants.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± I said. ¡°You have the exact profession I require to help me. Could you please locate two mages for me? A black-haired noble girl in a purple dress, and an adventurer mage with common brown hair and a simple staff. They could be in a carriage for all I know. If you have to look inside, they¡¯re most likely residing in a simple brown wagon that operates cheaply.¡±


    The woman appeared disapproving.


    ¡°I can pay for this,¡± I said. ¡°Add it to my debt. A hundred fucking gold pieces shared with you all if you can find the girls.¡±


    Eventually, the woman sighed. ¡°Fine. If I will bring this offer to the team. We will, however, keep the majority of our supplies on protecting you, our main target.¡±

 43: Backup Plan

    ¡°No luck,¡± the rogue woman said, returning to my position half an hour later. ¡°This request is impossible with the resources we have.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you for trying.¡±


    She frowned at my slumped-down figure. ¡°Is it time we return to the temple?¡±


    I stared at the cracks in the pavement. I guessed this was it, then. I had failed. My team had disappeared, leaving me alone with the royalty for the better or worse. Darko had purposefully sacrificed himself just to make this all happen.


    What choice did I have, but to return to the temple? If I wasn¡¯t about to end my life for a second time right here and right now, what else could I do but get to the damn King¡¯s crib to deal with my future?


    Really, my life was far from over. This wasn¡¯t the first time I had lost friends. Hell, I had barely known the team for a couple of days. During those days, their company nearly drove me to suicide. What reason did I have to attempt a reunion?


    I opened my wavering mouth to admit my defeat when I spotted something beside the exit of the alley. A wagon that looked oddly familiar. I paused.


    Then, before I knew it, my body resparked its hope. I sprung to my feet and rushed out of the alley, onto the highway.


    There it was, slowly inching out of the city, towards the capital. The very same wagon I had slept in days prior. The burly driver, the horses, I recognized all of them. Immediately, I took up running.


    ¡°Hey!¡± I called to the driver, rushing after him. ¡°Stop!¡±


    The driver took a puff of his pipe and paused the horses, turning to me as he blew the smoke.


    ¡°Are they in?¡± I asked, already gasping for breath. ¡°The mages? Remy, Shena?¡±


    ¡°Are you a constable?¡± the driver asked.


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Then get lost,¡± he said. ¡°This wagon carries vegetables and bread, nothing else.¡±


    ¡°No, please!¡± I shouted. ¡°I¡¯m the same guy, remember? The outsider mage. From Darko¡¯s group. Are the mages still with you?¡±


    The driver studied me for a moment. He took another puff, thinking of what to answer.


    The tarp behind him peeked open. From within, I spotted the reddened eyes of my teacher.


    My heart nearly exploded. I ignored whatever nonsense the driver was about to spout and ran around the wagon. I pulled the back tarp out of the way and hopped in. Out of breath, I stood between the entrance. Two pairs of eyes landed on me.


    We stared at each other in bewildered silence. Shena appeared shocked to see me alive. Remy was more than just shocked. Her face had opened wide. A tear flowed out of her eye, and she made no effort to hide or stop it.


    I couldn¡¯t read her at all. My own eyes blurred, and I realized I couldn¡¯t read my own emotions either. Too many sensations washed over me at once, and I didn¡¯t know what any of them meant. My heart was about to kill me.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said and turned around. ¡°I¡¯ll leave.¡±


    I took half a step out, when something grabbed my left arm. Remy¡¯s reddened face tackled my royal robe. She clung her arms around my stomach, blocking me from moving.


    ¡°Liar!¡± She sniffled. ¡°You stupid liar¡­ You never needed my lessons at all!¡±


    In a panic, I looked at Shena. She offered a wry smile, then pretended to look away, ignoring us two. Behind us, the driver glanced inside, then deemed the situation not his problem and left us alone.


    Remy pounded me lightly in the chest. ¡°Liar!¡± she repeated and continued for what felt like minutes. All the while I stood still in utter confusion, my instincts in scrambles. What could I have done but let her cry?


    Eventually, Remy¡¯s pounding calmed to weak taps. Her tears calmed down. She stood, her eyes glued to the floor. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± she said.


    ¡°Remy, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak,¡± she said, then wiped her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll cry again.¡±


    This was a request I would gladly follow and would have followed regardless. My emotional intelligence wasn¡¯t at a high enough level to deal with the situation.


    ¡°What she means to say is,¡± Shena said, ¡°¡®Thank you for saving our lives.¡¯ Fantastic trick you pulled, Cillian. Whoever you really are. You have my thanks.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t mad?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Mad?¡± Shena asked. ¡°You presume I would have rather let the cultists torture me for their experiment? No, that is not the case. I am not mad in the slightest.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ You left me?¡± I asked.


    Shena glanced at Remy, then back at me. ¡°I think we have a lot of talking to do. Cillian, if I am allowed to ask, where exactly have you been? What happened?¡±


    ***


    After calming down, I told my side of the story. How I woke up in the Sacred Priest¡¯s nursery, and how the Association¡¯s Mrs. St. Clair came to check out my mana chords. How they read the contract and gave me no choice but to sign it.


    I hesitated on my words with the next part. A large portion of me was still deathly afraid of revealing the system¡¯s presence. Could I really reveal the extent of my powers?


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Seeing as you¡¯re here,¡± Shena said, ¡°you must have escaped from the Association. How?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ Well, as you could probably guess, I¡¯ve been lying a little bit to everyone,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t actually a beginner mage at all, are you?¡± Shena asked. Remy looked away, hiding her eyes.


    ¡°I am a beginner,¡± I said. ¡°That much is true. It¡¯s just, uhm, my magic doesn¡¯t work like everyone else''s. My spells¡­ I don¡¯t cast them by myself. It¡¯s as if I gain outside assistance.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Shena said. ¡°That makes absolutely no sense.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I spoke the next part in a near whisper, just in case the royal spies were somehow eavesdropping. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you more. Partly because I don¡¯t fully understand my powers at all. Just know that I am not an actual master mage. A trickster would be a more fitting term.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Shena said. ¡°Regardless, you must have somehow proved your control over mana.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± I said. ¡°And the Association let me go. Then I had to meet the King.¡±


    I laid out a rough summary of how the conversation with the King went. I mentioned the bomb of debt given to me and outlined the King¡¯s final offer of involving me in the quest to hunt the cultists.


    ¡°A thousand gold pieces¡­¡± Shena repeated, looking troubled.


    ¡°Is that a lot?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Do you remember Darko¡¯s sword?¡± Shena asked. ¡°The one he spent seven years saving for. It cost a hundred gold.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I said.


    ¡°A thousand is an absolute scam from the Sacred Priest,¡± Shena said. ¡°Twelve hours of risk-free work can never be worth so much, no matter how skilled. The King has ripped you off.¡±


    ¡°I guessed so,¡± I said. I looked down and paused. Then I asked, ¡°What about you? Where¡¯s Jordan and Rigrith? What happened after I passed out?¡±


    ¡°Darko ran after you, as you can likely guess,¡± Shena said. ¡°We left Rigrith¡¯s body and the fallen cultists at the church. They were all gone by the time we came back. As for Jord, we have no idea. By the time we arrived at the scene, you were practically dead, and Jord had disappeared.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened,¡± I said. ¡°I tossed the daze powder at his feet, then blasted him with a fire¡­ ball. That¡¯s the last I remember. He simply disappeared.¡±


    Shena bit her lip. ¡°Odd.¡±


    ¡°What happened next?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Darko begged me to heal you after he dragged you out of the cloud of daze powder,¡± Shena said. ¡°I thoroughly failed. My apologies. Your body¡­ It¡¯s a miracle that you¡¯re alive. The excess of daze powder immobilized your lungs, clogging up every part of your esophagus and everything below. That combined with the burns, I would not have recognized you had Darko not insisted the corpse was yours.


    ¡°After my failures¡­ Darko insisted you had to be saved. He said his final goodbyes and rushed to the Royal Temple in hopes of convincing the Sacred Priest to perform her miracles. He somehow succeeded, which is a miracle in itself. But he also got himself arrested in the process. A dozen or so crimes were charged against him. Some old and some fresh as yesterday. It¡¯s safe to say his plan is ruined.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I said, a slight wave of relief washing over me. The situation was clearly still dire, and my fate was in questionable hands, but somehow, I felt warm inside. For once in my life, my fears had proved themselves wrong. My friends didn¡¯t hate me. Darko had sacrificed his own skin to save mine. An awful decision on his part all around, but I was thankful.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll say this while I can. Thank you so much.¡±


    Shena avoided eye contact. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. I was ready to accept you for dead.¡±


    ¡°I was dead,¡± I said. ¡°Which is why I¡¯m now in one hell of a debt. Honestly, I couldn¡¯t care less. What do we do next? That¡¯s what¡¯s important. We have to free Darko, right?¡±


    Shena bit her lip. ¡°That would be stupid. The plan is over. We will move our separate ways.¡±


    I paused. ¡°But¡­ Really?¡±


    ¡°I will continue to search for Rakash and the Gorthorns,¡± Shena said. ¡°I may not be their kind, but I am a part of their tribe. I¡¯ll take the remains of Darko¡¯s plan and apply it where I can. You two are free to help, but for the sake of your futures, I don¡¯t recommend it. Remy should likely go home. This is by far the smartest decision.¡±


    Remy kept her face hidden toward the wall. She clearly wasn¡¯t happy about the idea.


    ¡°Cill, take the King¡¯s offer,¡± Shena said. ¡°As long as royalty doesn¡¯t force you to a slave contract, the King¡¯s proposal is by far the best chance you have at clearing your debt.¡±


    ¡°What about Darko?¡± I asked. ¡°He¡¯s imprisoned? Don¡¯t we have to help him?¡±


    Shena snorted. ¡°This is his fault. He wouldn¡¯t want us to help him. He broke laws, nonchalantly so, and now he has to pay consequences. His life is practically over, but I don¡¯t think we can help him. Freeing him would mean busting through the temple, which is just about the stupidest idea we could attempt. Diplomatic methods will tangle us in his mess, too. Freeing him simply isn¡¯t realistic. Darko¡¯s plan has failed.¡±


    What is this? I thought, a sore taste in my mouth. He didn¡¯t want to be saved? What the hell did that mean? Of course he wanted to be saved. Who would want to spend their lives tucked away in a cell?


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you been together for a long time?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯re going to forget him, just like that? What about the plan? You¡¯ve prepared for a lot longer than I¡¯ve been here. You can¡¯t just forget it all now, can you?¡±


    Shena shifted her position, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. ¡°I would save him if I could. Darko is a good man, stupid or not. The problem is politics. Neither of us has the slightest chance of ever freeing him from his own crimes. We have no choice but to abandon the plan. This is what happens when your idiot leader insists that his grand plan is going to work, and that secondary ideas are unnecessary.¡±


    ¡°His crimes are all small offenses, are they not?¡± I asked. ¡°He hasn¡¯t killed anyone. Except cultists. Everything he has done has been for the greater good, no?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Shena said. ¡°Unfortunately, the royalty¡¯s sense of justice is only mildly less skewed than Azetoth¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°There is a way to get him free,¡± I said. ¡°I know it.¡±


    Shena let out a laugh. ¡°Just yesterday, all of us nearly died while following Darko¡¯s plans. He convinced you into this, promising protection and safety, and look at us now. Why would you want to save him?¡±


    ¡°Darko is a friend,¡± I said. ¡°Is he not? He helped me rise from my lowest. He truly wished to train me to be a better man. I feel this, and I have been with him for three days. How long have you been his companions? Months? Years? Is this how quickly everything is forgotten? You would simply let his plan go to waste? We have to at least try to help him, don¡¯t we?¡±


    Shena scowled, raising her voice. ¡°If you¡¯ve got ideas, I will hear them. But from the way you speak, it sounds to me as if you haven¡¯t got the slightest of clues. Forget it, Cill.¡±


    I paused, taken aback by the change in tone. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± I said.


    ¡°Ah, no, I didn¡¯t mean that,¡± Shena said with haste. ¡°These last few days have made me skittish. I¡¯m sorry. I have no reason to get annoyed with you. Believe me, I do agree with your sentiment, to some extent. It¡¯s just¡­ Life isn¡¯t always as simple. We can¡¯t save people when we want to. The most we can do for Darko¡¯s good is to imprison ourselves with him. And as good of a man as he is, I cannot do that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for arguing,¡± I said. ¡°Thanks for saving me, all of you. However, I will ask you to stop the carriage.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡± Shena asked.


    ¡°You asked me if I¡¯ve got ideas for saving Darko,¡± I said. ¡°I believe I have multiple.¡±

 44: Improvisation

    ¡°You know what Darko¡¯s plan involves, right?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯ve got the weird urn, still. It¡¯s a big part of plans, right?¡±


    ¡°I know some of the plans,¡± Shena said. ¡°The actual important details are all tucked away in Darko¡¯s head. And knowing Darko, those important bits do not actually exist yet.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I said. ¡°Well, the general idea will be enough, as long as we can promise the King we have more to share. If you can explain how the urn works, and what it will be used for, I¡¯m positive we can convince the King.¡±


    The girls watched me with curiosity. I shared their emotions. I was talking right now? Seriously? This voice belonged to me?


    ¡°We are limited in our approach for the simple reason that our adversary is an omnipotent King,¡± I said. ¡°If he disagrees, he disagrees. If he deems us criminals, he has to flick a finger and we¡¯re fucked. The King wants to recruit me, and he believes he has me under his fingertips. He will not budge on his proposal. Offering anything less is an insult. Thus, we have to offer more.¡±


    I explained the plan in detail, although in reality, the speech consisted mostly of haphazard ideas that could have possibly been used to convince the King. I had nothing concrete yet. Determination was what made me sound convincing. And as Shena and Remy wished to achieve the very thing I was proposing, getting them to listen was easy.


    ¡°A large issue is our lack of credibility,¡± I said. ¡°The King will not trust anyone connected to Darko. Do you know what happened to Rigrith? Is he alive?¡±


    ¡°Rigrith is very much dead,¡± Shena said. ¡°Unless the cult knows how to resurrect people whose heads were pierced by swords.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°We will use this. Anything to hint at our credibility will be used to build our worth. If you can sneak subtle praises of your victories against the cult into your sentences, please do.¡±


    My line of thought came to a pause, and I noticed Remy staring at me with the type of look that held meaning behind it. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Remy asked. ¡°Are you really the same person?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I said with a vague laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll be back to my miserable self tomorrow, don¡¯t worry. I used to be a tradesperson in my old life, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Remy pouted at me but didn¡¯t say what was on her mind. I let her keep the secrets for now.


    The planning continued as we went back and forth with ideas, slowly evolving the dream of saving Darko into something that could have possibly been executed. I didn¡¯t know if I was confident in the plan actually working, but I sure as hell felt like I had to try.


    ¡°This could work¡­¡± Shena said, tapping her fingers against her staff. ¡°I don¡¯t think the result will quite be what Darko intended, but if we do succeed, this is better than forgetting our prior work. What about you, Remy? Do you think you can handle this?¡±


    Remy sat still, then snorted. ¡°Shena. I may have nearly died and cried about it a little. Does that make me worthless to the team? I hope not.¡±


    ¡°If we move on, we might just get more of what we experienced yesterday,¡± Shena said.


    Remy sighed. She picked up her box of makeup. ¡°I¡¯m coming. I''d rather die than go back home. My family would never see me as a human if I came back with the results we have now.¡±


    Suddenly, a thump sounded from the back of the carriage. ¡°Cilan Bernmyier,¡± a woman¡¯s voice called. It was the same rogue woman. My spy, having utterly butchered the enunciation of my name. She did not look happy. ¡°It¡¯s time we head back. Your two hours have been spent thirty minutes ago.¡±


    I glanced at Shena and Remy. We nodded. Then, the three of us stood, Shena carrying our items and the urn.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°We are coming.¡±


    ¡°We?¡± the spy asked.


    ¡°My friends are coming with me,¡± I said. ¡°Consider this an extra donation of workforce.¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The spy gave us a weird look but didn¡¯t argue. She led us towards the walls and through the toll gates, back towards the imposing temple I had just escaped from.


    ***


    ¡°What happened here?¡± I asked as we passed a collapsed fruit stall beside a brick-built library on the wealthier side of Arkber. The streets were crowded as curious people examined the fallen stalls and the damage done to the roads. The paved stone was cracked by a trail of footsteps, as if Bigfoot had stomped its way through the streets, creating holes in its wake.


    ¡°Darko happened,¡± Shena said. ¡°There¡¯s a reason why magic and vigor are forbidden inside cities. This is the damage Darko left simply by running at his fullest to bring you to the temple. We¡¯re lucky he didn¡¯t kill anyone.¡±


    Darko did this? Just to save me? I thought in horror. Each hole in the path was larger than the worst potholes in New York.


    ¡°City officials are still counting how many marks and months of repairs his damages will cost,¡± Shena said. ¡°Hopefully our plans are worth more than the hundreds upon hundreds of gold marks Darko is in debt.¡±


    I bit my lip. Darko really didn¡¯t care about his skin, did he? What sane person would go to this extent just to save someone as stupid as me?


    My plan wasn¡¯t sane either. In all honesty, calling it a ¡°plan¡± was overeager. The success of our mission largely revolved around our improvisation. I barely even understood the situation as a whole, and I was somehow supposed to convince a damn medieval King to change his stubborn mind.


    All just to save my stupid red-haired leader.


    The palace-like temple loomed in the distance. Arkber¡¯s most imposing spires stemmed from temple grounds¡ªthe tallest jutted straight through the temple¡¯s tip and into the sky. None were as tall as modern-day skyscrapers, but it sure felt like Sauron¡¯s tower watched our arrival, laughing at any hopes of negotiating with the King.


    Maybe Shena was right, I thought. This was stupid. By far our smartest option was to fuck off from the city, never coming back.


    But if I chose to give up, I knew I wouldn¡¯t receive a single night of proper rest in my life, knowing that the man who saved my life was imprisoned because he chose to let me live. If I had to imprison myself under royalty¡¯s military service, the least I could ask for was some friends alongside.


    The rest of the walk progressed slowly, which most proficient businessmen would take as a blessing. Final preparations were always necessary. In my experience, however, the moments before serious action were the most nerve-wracking. The longer the anticipation lasted, the more time I had to grow into a vegetable incapable of thought.


    What helped was the girls¡¯ presence. They trusted me, and they trusted themselves. They were fully in on this, not just following me half-assedly because I claimed I was a genie.


    Eventually, the spy escorts led us directly to the front gates, where familiar faces stood on standby. Angus Grey and Daphine Belyris. The spies offered bows before disappearing into the temple grounds, dropping us for the more important personnel to deal with.


    I walked up to the two investigators and offered a bow. ¡°I have made my decision,¡± I said. ¡°We wish to join the King¡¯s team.¡±


    Disapproval filled Daphine Belyris¡¯s features. She glanced at the girls and scowled. ¡°Shena, the escapee,¡± she said. ¡°Who has allowed you inside Arkber¡¯s walls?¡±


    ¡°Mrs. Belyris,¡± I said with confidence. Shoulders straight, head up. Such was a polite greeting in the world I trained in, and I hoped my skills translated here. ¡°My team is joining me in the King¡¯s proposal. The three of us will work to pay off our collective debt.¡±


    ¡°Cillian Bermeyer,¡± Belyris said. Her look told me she was having none of it. ¡°The King has permitted you, and you only, to enter the palace. Your two renegade mages are free to leave.¡±


    ¡°That is unfortunate,¡± I said. ¡°I am utterly useless without my team. The achievements under my name come with the help of these very mages, who are just as competent with magic as I am. If I join the King in a quest to defeat Azetoth, it¡¯s only natural for my team to be brought with me.¡±


    ¡°This is not a matter for negotiation,¡± Belyris said. ¡°The Wyvern Slayer has been arrested, and his team disbanded. It is you who the King wishes to see, not straggler adventurers.¡±


    ¡°That is a shame,¡± I said. ¡°This matter is non-negotiable on my side as well. If my allies are not allowed to introduce themselves and propose their worth, I¡¯m afraid I will have to take back my words. I cannot work under the King.¡±


    ¡°Your debts require to be paid,¡± Belyris said. ¡°This matter is not as simple as deciding on which path you wish to take.¡±


    ¡°I am not working for the King because I wish to pay off a debt,¡± I said. ¡°A thousand gold pieces is pocket change for a mage with Hallowed chords. The King can expect payment within the upcoming months, and a lot more to retrieve my items. I wish to join the King for our shared mutual goal: to defeat the cult. If he is not willing to cooperate with this simple request, to hear out the proposals of my team, our success in the hunt for cultists will fare better on our own accord.¡±


    Belyris stared at me in disbelief at the words coming out of my mouth. My spell of nonchalant bullshit was effective.


    ¡°Of course, we don¡¯t come empty-handed,¡± I said. ¡°The team has prepared a plan for months, fighting our enemy from the moment of the cult¡¯s founding. We wish to share our plans with the King and truly work together in defeating Azetoth. I am certain you will wish to hear what we have prepared.¡±


    Belyris frowned, clearly thinking of arguments. She knew she had the authority to walk all over us, but the prideful side of her head refused to simply tell us to screw off. She was a proud arguer who took squabbles as challenges to win. She was also someone who knew when to retreat, to save her arguments for a better opportunity.


    ¡°Angus,¡± Belyris said. ¡°Confiscate their weapons. I will propose the mages¡¯ diversion to the King.¡±

 45: The Negotiator

    My clothes were patted down, each pocket and crevice checked. The same went for Shena and Remy, who offered their staves and other weapons, including pocket daggers and the weird urn.


    Angus Grey¡¯s eyes went wide as he examined it. ¡°Urn of the undead!¡± he called. ¡°Filled to the brim with souls. What sorcery is this!¡±


    ¡°That,¡± Remy said, ¡°is proof of our year¡¯s work.¡±


    Remy¡¯s makeup was redone. I could feel the elegant aura around her, though she was a little nervous. She was trained in the ways of this world in courtesies I didn¡¯t even know existed. Thus, we hoped she would offer our group of hooligans some much-needed credibility.


    Angus¡¯s look went from concerned to angry. ¡°This is far too dangerous to bring inside city walls! You should all be charged alongside the Wyvern Slayer for as much as attempting to bring undead inside the temple!¡±


    ¡°Only a necromancer can make any use of these souls,¡± Remy argued. ¡°The urn is no different to a swordsman carrying a glyphsword, or a mage carrying their staff. Without a wielder, the urn and the souls inside are as secure as the moons in the sky.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Angus said. ¡°This is different. Were the urn to be opened, an army of undead would swarm the temple.¡±


    ¡°This is exactly what we intend to do,¡± Remy said. ¡°Only, instead of attacking our allies, our undead army could be used for far more useful purposes.¡±


    Angus¡¯s apprehension remained.


    ¡°Constable,¡± Remy said. She lowered her head, holding her hands together as a show of respect. ¡°The temple is the most secure place in all of Kroses Sol. Everyone and anyone knows this. The urn is a danger, we are aware of this. A mere swarm of undead has no chance of overpowering the Temple¡¯s defenses. The urn is a necessary item we wish to show the King.¡±


    ¡°The urn will be safekept in my guards¡¯ hands,¡± Angus said. ¡°This is a precaution I will have to make in case this is a ploy. Attempt to reach it, and you will be killed in an instant.¡±


    Remy offered a curtsy. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The guards double checked our clothes for weapons and traps with superficial attention to detail. I knew we had no chance to ever harm the King. We were the ones stepping into a trap. The King alone could have fought us three to one, and we would have lost. Still, I couldn¡¯t complain. In the royalty''s eyes, we were three unpredictable and dangerous mages.


    I quickly learned that the checkup was only the beginning of the utterly insane safety measures.


    A march of footsteps announced Daphine Belyris¡¯s return. A small convoy of guards in steel and staves walked after her. She faced us as the marching guards formed a full circle around our position. The formation locked in place, blocking our escape from all sides.


    ¡°The King agreed to hear your proposal, outsider,¡± Belyris said. ¡°I will remind you to watch your manners. His Majesty is not lax with forgiveness. And as your future commander, neither am I.¡±


    Remy offered a bow. Shena and I awkwardly mimicked the action, struggling, but giving our best. We could have stood still to avoid embarrassing ourselves, but this particular plan benefited from our honesty. Oftentimes, the best method to make oneself sincere was to totally fail at an honest gesture.


    The convoy escorted us into the temple with an imposing march. The guards¡¯ mere footsteps were filled with purpose and practice, all the while my unpracticed self did its best to maintain composure and posture.


    The same scarily decorated foyer and hallways blurred past. Sweat beaded on my forehead, but that could always be blamed on heat.


    I glanced at Remy for guidance, only to catch her taking breaths. She kept her eyes straight and composed, not allowing herself to glance at the chandeliers and art pieces, yet the palace clearly made her nervous. Feeling my eyes on her, she fixed her step, forcing herself to stand tall.


    Hell. Remy was looking at me for reassurance. I was the man leading this damn boat.


    The convoy eventually led us to the double doors before the throne room. The circle of guards reformed at the entrance, shaping a U before the opening doors with us in the middle. Daphine Belyris stepped in first without waiting for us to catch our breaths.


    We walked the red carpet with our own little battle formation. Remy and I at the front, Shena close behind. We had decided this was the best approach to take. Remy was a noble, someone who was trained to act in formal situations. I was the main dish for the King¡¯s tangled plans. The two of us would do best at the center of attention.


    The formation fell apart the instant King Xastur¡¯s glare landed upon us.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Remy paused by the hostile intent behind the King¡¯s frown, much the same way I had. Our approach froze in place. The air in the room had changed. The King wasn¡¯t playing around anymore.


    It¡¯s okay, I thought. I grabbed Remy¡¯s hand and forced a smile. Then, I turned to the King, resuming our march with lackluster steps.


    We kneeled at the end of the carpet, offering ourselves in the perfect view for the King to judge. To his left and behind stood Ausrine and her team of healers, acting as bodyguards. To his right stood Prince Vitek, observant and adding to the King¡¯s presence.


    ¡°Cillian Bermeyer¡­¡± the King said. ¡°Explain. What is the meaning of this scheme?¡±


    ¡°I apologize, Your Majesty,¡± I said. ¡°I have come to accept your offer. I wish to thank you for the kind reception.¡±


    ¡°Quit the nonsense,¡± the King said. ¡°Your poor manners will not weave you into my good sides. What I asked was a simple question. Why have these stragglers appeared in my throne room?¡±


    Skipping the small talk, I thought. Naturally so. The King was a busy and impatient man. I had to place my bets quickly. I kept my head high but didn¡¯t smile; the situation required seriousness.


    ¡°Me and my team will join the quest to hunt for Azetoth,¡± I said. ¡°Additionally, we wish to hold yesterday¡¯s missed audience. The Wyvern Slayer¡¯s team has spent months preparing plans, ones that cannot be left forgotten.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± the King said with a dream-breaking grimace. ¡°It appears there has been a misconnection in your head, young mage. My offer stands for you, and you only. Daphine has made this very clear. I do not wish to hire nor enslave adventurers. These stragglers are to be led out of the temple. Now.¡±


    ¡°These stragglers,¡± I said calmly but with volume, ¡°are the mages that defeated first Archpriest Rigrith.¡±


    Eyebrows rose all around the audience. Daphine Belyris flinched. The King himself paused, and so did the guards tasked with escorting Remy and Shena.


    ¡°Well,¡± the King eventually said. He frowned at Remy, then at Shena, both of whom appeared uncomfortable. ¡°An interesting claim. One that doesn¡¯t appear to make a lot of sense. Tell me, mages, what might your identities be?¡±


    ¡°Remyer Ravilles,¡± Remy said with a bow. ¡°Third daughter and an independent mage of the second caliber.¡±


    ¡°Ravilles,¡± the King said. ¡°A mediocre house amongst the endless nobles of Vulusen. Your lineage does not impress, and neither do your abilities.¡± He looked at Shena.


    ¡°Shena Benneft, Your Majesty,¡± Shena said. ¡°A self-taught mage and a sworn enemy of Azetoth.¡±


    ¡°An escapee,¡± the King said. ¡°Your kind is not allowed in the palace. I am ashamed to make this exception.¡±


    Shena bowed, offering no response.


    The King¡¯s frown landed back on me. ¡°Your mages are as average as fighters get. Skilled, perhaps, but never special. If you have managed to defeat the first Archpriest of Azetoth, this only shows the cultists¡¯ weakness.¡±


    ¡°Our abilities are useless on their own,¡± I said. ¡°This includes my powers. We excel in teamwork. Rigrith was not defeated fair and square. He fell to tricks that were meticulously prepared by our criminal gang. The man who dealt the final blow was our leader, Darko.¡±


    ¡°A leader, whose crimes have nothing to show but distrust,¡± the King said. ¡°Your group may be strong and proficient with teamwork and luck. For any achievement you wish to list, a crime has been committed.¡±


    ¡°Every one of Darko¡¯s crimes can be explained,¡± I said. ¡°Everything he has done has been for the good of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cillian,¡± the King said with power that was impossible to speak over. ¡°It is clear you do not understand my words. A day¡¯s trip from us, a war could break any moment. I have decided to delay my convoy for half a day to sort out the hit party for Azetoth¡¯s mess, and to offer you time to consider. I do not intend to spend a moment more sorting this waste. You, Cillian, will join Daphine¡¯s leadership, and nobody else.¡±


    Crap, I thought, wishing to bite my lip. The King admitted, in front of all his guests, that he wouldn¡¯t change his mind. To do otherwise would show weakness on his part. My earlier statement had been far too weak, not nearly important enough to offer any value in the negotiation. I¡¯d wasted the opportunity for any further buildup I had wished to make.


    I would have to bring out the real tools.


    ¡°Drag them out,¡± the King said. ¡°I do not wish to see these mages again.¡±


    ¡°Jordan Feryah,¡± I stated.


    The King¡¯s eyes snapped at me.


    ¡°Is this name familiar to you?¡± I asked. ¡°Last I heard, this fugitive has kidnapped Princess Alyce.¡±


    The King held up his hand to bring pause to the guards once again. Genuine anger flared on his face, all of it directed at me. My legs wished to collapse and submit. I swore I could feel a further power from his emotions, as if the King¡¯s stare alone filled the air with murderous pressure.


    Still, I stood tall. The King¡¯s blinding anger was good.


    ¡°Why do you mention this name?¡± the King asked.


    ¡°We know Jordan Feryah¡¯s last whereabouts,¡± I said. ¡°We know his goals. We know his association. We have even engaged him in combat, just yesterday. All of this is information we are willing to offer.¡±


    The King¡¯s grimace remained. He was furious, as I had hoped. Anyone whose daughter had been kidnapped would share the reaction.


    ¡°On top of everything I¡¯ve already offered¡ª¡± I put up the most serious face I ever had. ¡°¡ªmy team¡¯s loyal cooperation to defeat Azetoth, the Wyvern Slayer¡¯s month-long plans, and the money to pay our debts¡ªwe also offer our knowledge regarding Jordan Feryah, and our plans to capture him to his rightful place in prison, saving Princess Alyce. All we ask in return is fifteen minutes of audience, and for our leader to be freed of charges.¡±

 46: Leader

    Laughter-fueled ramblings of Darko¡¯s cell neighbor echoed throughout the temple¡¯s not-so-refined basement. The woman was a distinguished fellow with lush golden hair and bright blue eyes. A noble, no doubt. Few of her words were decipherable, and none seemed to have intelligent thoughts behind them. She stared wide-eyed at Darko¡¯s hunched-over figure as she munched on her robe¡¯s collar like a hound chewing its bone.


    The Corruption¡¯s work, Darko presumed. Whatever sadness the woman had lived through within the last few weeks, her glory days were over. It seemed she would have to suffer for a little longer. The cells were void spaces; so long as the disruptor device stayed active, no mana nor vigor could escape from a user¡¯s body.


    Funny place, Darko thought.


    No, that wasn¡¯t his name anymore. The Wyvern Slayer¡¯s days, too, were over.


    Darryl Blythe. That was who he was. A second child whose responsibilities lay nowhere except to take care of the elderly who raised him. Nobody asked him to train the sword, and the village outright begged him not to attempt to avenge his mother.


    ¡°Every man thinks they own the world when they first touch vigor,¡± Grandmother had said. The words rang eerily true. Darko had been far too arrogant with this quest. Rigrith and Jordan were both leagues stronger than his entire team combined. What about the Founder himself? Darko would never reach the skill to duel his target.


    His days were over. And with failures like these, with the tremendous debt stacked over his shoulders, he doubted he would ever dare rise again.


    They¡¯d all be dead if Cillian wasn¡¯t a lying genius. Darko had utterly failed to keep the one promise he had made. To keep the kid safe.


    Still, Darko could consider himself lucky. Shena and Remy were alive and out of the city, back to their own lives. Remy¡¯s crime of teaching Cillian had been overlooked. And Cillian himself¡­ Hopefully he would wake up. Darko had done all he could.


    Footsteps accompanied the clinging of keys at the end of the hallway. The guards were back. Darko stood preemptively, keeping the respectful air around him. He wouldn¡¯t want to get petty with his caretakers, not yet at least.


    ¡°Is he alive?¡± Darko asked when the guards¡¯ faces came into sight. Four of them approached, three equipped with basic glyphswords and one with a staff.


    ¡°Your stay has changed,¡± the burly head warden said. He opened the cell, and the guards immediately took Darko by the pulley chain on his shackles.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Darko asked.


    ¡°The King wants to meet you,¡± the guard said. He appeared as confused as Darko. His words came with hesitation. ¡°His Majesty has granted your audience. You will have an opportunity to explain your plan in detail.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Darko gushed. ¡°No, no, this has to be a mistake. My plan is ruined.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what this is about,¡± the guard said. ¡°I am reciting what was told. I do know, however, that your damned mage is up and walking, and is asking for you to be brought for the audience.¡±


    ***


    The shackled figure of our red-haired leader was dragged into the throne room by chains. His hair was somehow disheveled even further than usual, and his black suit had been replaced with a monotone gray shirt and trousers, no boots, and certainly no adventurers¡¯ harnesses.


    He spotted me and the girls, and something within his brain appeared to malfunction. This was not the face of the leader I knew. Rather, Darko looked like a once smug drug lord who had been beaten up a few too many times on his way to court.


    This wasn¡¯t good. Darko couldn¡¯t have looked more guilty. He had already given up.


    ¡°You have had your wish, outsider,¡± King Xastur said. ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty,¡± I said with a small bow. ¡°I wish to remind everyone of the purpose of this audience. We hope to reveal our leader¡¯s plan, and for everyone involved in the cultist hunt to acknowledge his ideas and our efforts. This includes all of our knowledge regarding Jordan Feryah.¡±


    ¡°Get on with it,¡± the King said.


    This was the point of the plan where I had hoped for my portion to end. Darko was in the room, and he had an opportunity to take things from here. In all honesty, I had no idea what I was doing. The sooner Darko spoke to reveal his plan, the better.


    If he had a plan at all.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°There is something I wish to show you, Your Majesty,¡± I said, sensing I would have to speak some more. ¡°A special urn to reveal our achievements.¡±


    ¡°The urn of the undead,¡± the King said. ¡°I am aware of your abomination. It¡¯s bold of you to suggest the use of black magic in a royal operation.¡±


    Black magic? What the hell? Nobody told me about this.


    I glanced at Remy. This was our signal for her to help, to answer when I didn¡¯t have a clue as to what to say.


    Remy opened her mouth, but no words came. She had nothing to say either.


    Goddammit, Darko¡¯s plan was terrible. This whole operation was a mess. What was our leader doing!


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Shena said, lowering her head. ¡°Necromancy, as research shows, has no correlation to black magic. The undead soldiers are impure beings. However, drawing them into life is a pure art, the same as any natural magic.¡±


    Thank you, I thought, relief washing over me.


    The King didn¡¯t look as impressed. ¡°Never once in my life have I been addressed so arrogantly by an escapee. Ordinarily, I would not waste time entertaining a second more of your arguments. But fifteen minutes is what I promised. Tell me, adventurer, why would I ever consider necromancy an essential part of defeating a cult of black magicians.¡±


    ¡°Forgive my bluntness,¡± Shena said. ¡°Our timespan does not allow me to dance around my words, pretending to be classier than I am. Truth is, you lack an army. Azetoth¡¯s cult numbers are well into the tens of thousands. Numbers that the royalty cannot match during the war. Undead soldiers will be a fine replacement for an army.¡±


    ¡°A wise idea,¡± the King said. ¡°And ultimately useless. Fighting lesser cultists is a waste of time. In these little conflicts, what truly matters is the location of organizers. Cult leaders. Archpriests. Once every cult official is defeated, small-time cultists will dwindle out, back into their usual lives of crime.¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± Shena said. ¡°Which is why an army is important to distract the cultists¡¯ goons and grubbies while their leaders are assassinated during the chaos.¡±


    The King looked as if he wished to sigh. He turned to me. ¡°I fail to see myself impressed. Tell me, how does your group plan to capture the kidnapper of my daughter?¡±


    I took a discreet but deep breath through my nose. This was not going well at all. The King made our plan sound like child¡¯s play, and the royal guests weren¡¯t any more engaged than him. Daphine Belyris stood near her peers without a hint of concern on her face. A bad sign, considering she was our rival in the dispute. Prince Vitek, the second man we were trying to convince, looked at our leader with disappointed eyes.


    Darko watched from the sidelines, shackles held tight by multiple guards. His expression was serious and unchanging. There were thoughts behind his eyes; I knew. This was undoubtedly the same man. Yet, he made no effort to help. It was as if he didn¡¯t want us to succeed. He refused to look in my direction.


    Our leader¡¯s inattentiveness was a choice. He was purposefully quiet.


    He accepted defeat, I thought. That fucking idiot, he has given up. He wants to send us home!


    ¡°Very well,¡± I answered, confidence wavering. ¡°As I mentioned, our party fought a cultist attack force yesterday evening. This squabble caused us to miss yesterday¡¯s audience, and also nearly sent me to my death. The cultist attack force was led by First Archpriest Rigrith and Jordan Feryah.¡±


    The King¡¯s silence indicated for me to continue.


    ¡°I fought Jordan,¡± I said. ¡°At the watchtower by the edge of town, as witnesses know. Jordan had me trapped until I sacrificed myself by shooting a fireball at our feet, collapsing the tower. I am uncertain if my attack connected.¡±


    The King scowled. ¡°His body was not found.¡±


    ¡°I guarantee he will be back,¡± I said. ¡°As long as I am nearby, Jordan Feryah is too. He needs me. For some screwed up experiment. As long as I am used as bait, Jordan Feryah will come to us. This is how we plan to capture him. By setting a trap with myself as the prize.¡±


    The King studied me. For an unnervingly long time, throwing me into the type of nerve-wracking pause that confused every part of my brain, as if my nerves were preparing for a literal punch.


    ¡°If you are the bait we require,¡± the King asked, ¡°what need is there to bring your criminal excuse of a team along?¡±


    The punch came. I had no defense. Remy stood stiff, clearly uncomfortable. Both girls looked at me, hoping I had something to say. I had convinced them this would work.


    And I had nothing. The plan had failed. I couldn¡¯t convince the King of anything.


    I had one last desperation plan.


    ¡°Darko!¡± I called, turning my look from the King to the man I hoped to call leader. ¡°You promised to reveal your secrets. You have brewed plans so important not even your team was allowed to know them. Isn¡¯t now time you snap out of your moping fit and reveal your damn ideas!¡±


    The room fell into silence. I surprised myself with my volume. Odd muscles were active on my face, ones I hadn¡¯t used in years. I¡¯d formed a scowl. Anger. Directed at another human being.


    Darko did not face my eyes.


    The King roared in laughter. He slammed his fist on the throne, then continued laughing. ¡°Oh, adventurers, you are comical. Outright mirthful. This audience reminds me of the fairy tales read to me when I was a child.¡± He let his laughter fall, the rest of the room staring in silence. Others were afraid to share a laugh with him. ¡°Are we done, then? Have I entertained your request?¡±


    I paused, lips twitching. This was it. I had no more tricks to play. We¡¯d gotten as far as we had hoped. Darko simply didn¡¯t wish to cooperate.


    Goddammit. I just wanted some friends for this stupid adventure. Was that too much to ask?


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± a new voice said. Darko, our excuse of a leader, raised his head and faced the King. ¡°Cillan is right. I do have a plan brewed up. I wish to ask every individual in this room; how many of you remember a mage named ¡®Zara Fel Blythe?¡¯¡±

 47: Family

    ¡°Zara Fel Blythe.¡± The King offered Darko a wry frown. ¡°An infamous Krose-born Defender of the Dragon Wall. An escapee with such power that even the most wicked of nobles were forced to respect her upbringing. She was a true figurehead of Krose tenacity. Until she deserted her post and was never seen again.¡±


    ¡°Zara is someone I know well, including the details of her disappearance,¡± Darko said. ¡°More importantly, how many of you have heard of a mage named Silas Piarlan?¡±


    The audience observed with curious silence, including me, frozen by the end of the red carpet. The girls and I barely breathed. Our shackled leader was finally doing something. We could only watch and pray.


    ¡°Silas Piarlan is a Krose-born mage,¡± Darko said. ¡°Once a respectable, upcoming mage of a wealthy family. Known as a mediocre fighter by skills. He was mostly famous because of his gender and occupation. Even then, his fame was short-lived. Silas was found dead thirty years ago along with House Piarlan¡¯s collapsed ruins.¡±


    ¡°I am growing annoyed with this audience,¡± the King said. ¡°Tell me, what are you scheming?¡±


    ¡°Silas¡¯s death was framed,¡± Darko said. ¡°The mage never died at all. While the majority of House Piarlan perished in the tragic collapse of their House, Mr. Silas traveled to the Dragon Wall in search of true strength. What was known of his mediocre powers was all a front. In reality, Silas could have qualified amongst the most powerful mages of Kroses Sol.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense.¡± The King slammed his fist on his throne. ¡°You, child adventurer, are far too young to even dream of telling a tale from this age. Were you friends with Mr. Piarlan himself during the glory days of his discoveries? Were you a mana worker at the countless wells his House overlooked? No. You were not. The elderly in this room were sworn peers of Mr. Piarlan. Any one of them will deem your tale a fallacy. Please, my followers, former friends of House Piarlan, let out your laughter on our young oracle!¡±


    That the audience did, though the laughter was not sincere. Nobles laughed because they were told to. In reality, everyone wished to hear more. Darko¡¯s tale had ensnared the room in curiosity, doubtful as everyone was.


    ¡°I don¡¯t claim to know the extent of Mr. Piarlan¡¯s mine capital,¡± Darko said. ¡°Nor is the House important to my tale. What I do know is that Silas Piarlan is not nearly as respectable at raising children as he is at casting spells.¡±


    The King paused, a disapproving expression glued to his face.


    ¡°Silas journeyed to the Walls,¡± Darko said. ¡°I don¡¯t claim to know his achievements or deeds, but his presence is a known fact. Silas was not a registered Defender, and certainly not respected by his peers. However, he was apparently powerful enough to draw attention to himself by the strongest of the strong. Ask any Defender who was active thirty years ago, and they will tell you exactly who this sniffer was, though few bothered to learn his name.¡± Darko raised his head, matching the King¡¯s eyes. ¡°Most knew Silas by his title: ¡®the weird man Zara Fel Blythe was madly in love with.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Ludicrous!¡± the King called. ¡°Utter lies from the depths of your tangled bowels. This tale has been the largest pile of nonsense to have ever graced this throne room. How in the name of Carillia¡¯s endless moons do you claim to know this information?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know what a lot of people don¡¯t,¡± Darko said. ¡°People who are fond of each other tend to express their feelings. Oftentimes, these lovely activities lead to a fun mistake called pregnancy. It¡¯s thanks to this phenomenon that I know of this information today.¡±


    ¡°You offer no proof,¡± the King said. ¡°You are not who you claim to be.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been told I have my father¡¯s face,¡± Darko said. ¡°The elders of this room can confirm this. And if this is not enough, you have the power to contact the Defenders. Zara¡¯s friends undoubtedly remember the weird man she had an affair with.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°And to answer my earlier promise regarding Zara¡¯s whereabouts; my mother is dead. She was killed by my father himself after the two deemed that their love wasn¡¯t worth all that much in the end. You can bet this all was quite a shock to my five-year-old self when it happened.¡±


    The room fell into disbelief. Some couldn¡¯t contain themselves and whispered to each other. Remy and Shena were frozen in place, eyes wide. I seemed to be the only one confused about all this.


    Darko took a step closer. This brought the room to silence, as if his shackled authority matched the King¡¯s. ¡°This all relates to today¡¯s audience for a simple reason.¡± He raised his voice and declared, ¡°Silas Piarlan, my father and the murderer of Zara Fel Blythe, is Azetoth, Founder of the cult we are all trying to destroy.¡±


    Silence. A terrifying word when given the right context. Every muscle in my body tensed. Few of Darko¡¯s declarations made sense to me, but I found every ounce of my being invested in the success of his story.


    ¡°It is a convincing tale,¡± the King eventually said. ¡°One that would gain tremendous merit were it proven true. Tell me, Wyvern Slayer, supposed son of Azetoth, did I understand the purpose of this audience correctly? You are trying to kill your own father?¡±


    ¡°Silas is my biological father,¡± Darko said. ¡°However, he is not, and never will be, my parent. Silas did not raise me. Thus, he is not family. My mother is the loving parent who raised me, and she did so alone in a village that I have sworn not to name.¡± He grimaced. ¡°Yes, I am trying to kill my father. Revenge is what I¡¯m after, your Majesty. I am the son of Azetoth. Thus, I know his identity. I know his goals. I know his tendencies. And I know how he can be killed.¡±


    The King sat in thought. He and Darko locked in a staredown, studying each other. The room stayed in silence.


    ¡°Does anyone in this audience wish to dispute the Wyvern Slayer¡¯s claim?¡± the King asked.


    A knight in steel armor stepped forward from the audience. He unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Darko. ¡°Forgive my insolence, Your Majesty, but this tale is a lie. I know with experience. Do not listen to this adventurer.¡±


    Eyes drew to the odd knight in steel, confusion rising all around. A visor hid the man¡¯s identity, deeming him an unimportant guard. Yet, something was off. The King¡¯s thoughtful frown implied something. This knight was more than was shown outside. An agent, perhaps?


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Darko said. ¡°In this world, there currently exist three people who know the truth of my family, including Azetoth himself. If you claim my tale is a lie with experience, there is only one person who you could be.¡±


    The knight faced Darko, unmoving. It was as if the two knew each other. Some important subtext hung in the air, and I had no idea what it was. The audience seemed to share my confusion.


    The knight turned to the King and lowered his head. ¡°I take back my claim. This adventurer is a different man.¡± He retreated back to his post.


    King Xastur reclined on the backrest and let out an audible sigh. ¡°This audience has drawn out to utter ridiculousness. Your fifteen minutes are overdue, and I do not wish to listen to this for a second longer. There is a war I must lead.¡± He stood up from his throne. ¡°Prince Vitek, my son. I entrust the full command of Azetoth¡¯s disposal to you. The fate of the Wyvern Slayer is in your hands, including the debt he and his team owes. Do what you will with the adventurers.¡±


    With that, the King walked out through the back doors, the Sacred Priest and her team following suit. The audience watched in disbelief.


    Prince Vitek stood idly next to the throne. I struggled to read his expression. He wasn¡¯t angry, but not exactly brimming with joy either. This was the face of a man who didn¡¯t wish to deal with overly complicated matters.


    Darko, in turn, grinned. He walked up to the red carpet and kneeled. The girls and I hastily followed suit.


    ¡°I will be glad to reveal my father¡¯s secrets,¡± Darko said. ¡°I ask nothing but to offer me a chance to avenge my mother¡¯s death.¡±


    The Prince thought. His stare wasn¡¯t nearly as terrifying as his father¡¯s. The true power of his uncertain gaze came from the authority just given to him.


    He took a breath. ¡°Darko, the Wyvern Slayer, and his group of adventurers will join the hunt for the Cult of Azetoth, under the leadership and supervision of Daphine Belyris and Prince Vitek.¡±

 Epilogue

    ¡°That was the stupidest plan I have lived through,¡± Shena said. She plumped down on her back on the soft royal mattress with a wide smile on her face. She was out of her robe, revealing a silk dress underneath. Women wore one hell of a lot of clothes in this world, it seemed.


    I sat on my bed on the other side of the room, brain barely running. What had just happened? My memory was already conflicting with my beliefs of reality. I recalled living through a royal audience, all that shit, but was the person in control truly me? Had someone possessed me?


    ¡°Darko is goddamn Azetoth¡¯s son¡­¡± Shena said with a sigh. ¡°And you, Cill, Lord knows who you are. This whole operation is getting weirder and weirder. When will you reveal that Remy is actually a gremlin shapeshifted into a Princess?¡±


    Remy sighed. She sat sideways beside the wall, staring out of the window.


    The window did not point outside, but offered a view of the temple¡¯s grand foyer. The guest room provided for us was seriously luxurious. Four canopied beds, all constructed of some pretty black wood. Three wine glasses stood untouched on a small round table, offered to us by the royal servants. The heavy door offered silence from the world around us.


    ¡°Why is the mood so sour?¡± Shena asked. ¡°Are you two unhappy with the results?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Remy said. ¡°I¡¯m shocked and distraught. These types of major events require some thinking and getting used to.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m kind of in disbelief.¡±


    Shena laughed. ¡°Oh, I am too. I¡¯ve been in disbelief ever since we embarked from Vol¨¦s. But I think the shock is finally turning into the good type of bafflement.¡±


    I shared the smile, though mine wasn¡¯t nearly as wide. Shiela be damned, but I somehow succeeded. The reason we were still together was because of my stupid persuasions.


    And yet, I feared this little nap hour was the only celebration we would get. Soon enough, we¡¯d have to start working again.


    I, the supposed expert mage with Hallowed chords, was expected to start performing for real now.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Cillian,¡± Shena said. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have argued about saving Darko. Saving him was the only option.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize,¡± I said. ¡°The plan wouldn¡¯t have worked without counter-arguments to strengthen the foundation.¡±


    Shena stared at the ceiling for a moment. ¡°How much about you do we not know yet?¡±


    I had no response. I literally wasn¡¯t allowed to reveal my true self, thanks to Shiela¡¯s bullshit system. Soon enough, I¡¯d have to start using the system for real. Leveling up, unlocking more powerful spells.


    The door opened, and our heads lifted. In proudly strolled our leader, now clad in his old rough adventurer¡¯s harness. The same one that was stolen from us at the bathhouse.


    ¡°Two thousand and seven hundred sixty-five,¡± Darko said.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± Shena asked, sitting up on her bed.


    ¡°Our debt all combined,¡± Darko said. ¡°A nice sum, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    From the grin on his face, you¡¯d think we had won the sum instead. This was our leader, that much was clear.


    ¡°Darko¡­¡± Shena said. ¡°Could you do us all a favor and jump off the window?¡±


    ¡°Ooh,¡± Darko said. ¡°More debt. Yummy.¡±


    Shena frowned. ¡°I have long wondered what the reason for your stupidity is. I am no longer confused, having heard who your father is.¡±


    Darko sighed, the grin fading. ¡°I had hoped my friends wouldn¡¯t see me as my father¡¯s descendant. It¡¯s exhausting, being the son of someone so fucking vile. I¡¯m sorry for hiding all this. I truly am. I hope you see why it was necessary.¡±


    Shena lay back down and bit her lip. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s good to see you. But I am annoyed with you. More so than usual.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Darko said. ¡°Thank you all for the operation. Even though I did not deserve it.¡±


    ¡°Thank Cillian,¡± Shena said. ¡°He¡¯s the one who organized this fiasco.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck,¡± Darko said. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    I looked away. ¡°No, thank Remy. She¡¯s the one who taught me.¡±


    Remy snorted. ¡°Shut up. You¡¯re lucky you didn¡¯t fail because of me.¡±


    She pouted, hiding her face against the window. The rest of the team shared glances, trying to guess what was wrong. That was until Darko grabbed Remy¡¯s arm and lifted her up. His attack was fierce¡ªhe trapped her in an inescapable hug. She let out a squeak, trying to struggle free. She failed.


    Darko patted her on the back before letting go. ¡°I don¡¯t care which one of you sniffers performed what part of this. What matters is that we are afoot. Starting tomorrow, you are all trapped in paying off our goddamn debt. You can only blame yourselves; I did not ask to be saved.¡±


    ¡°As if we had any say in finances before this,¡± Shena said. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve earned a single penny working under your leadership.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Darko said with an awkward smile. ¡°Get some rest today. Stuff will get crazy tomorrow, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± Shena said.


    ¡°Already done.¡± Darko grinned. He took one of the wine glasses from the table and took a sip. ¡°Cill, come with me. I need to talk to you alone.¡±


    I didn¡¯t object. This type of behavior was now totally expected from Darko. He could have told me we were going fishing for sharks, and I wouldn¡¯t have batted an eye. I stood and followed.


    Darko strolled through the carpeted hallways of the temple as if he owned the place, wine glass in hand. We passed doubtful servants alike. Darko offered a smile to each one of them.


    ¡°You look good today,¡± Darko said. ¡°The new style fits well.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I said, remembering my bald head. ¡°But thanks.¡±


    ¡°I was serious,¡± Darko said. ¡°You¡¯re like a wise old man, except you¡¯re still young and attractive.¡±


    He picked a seemingly random door in the hallway. We entered a smaller chamber with bookshelves on both sides. A study room of sorts, lavish in decorations. I shut the door and faced Darko.


    ¡°Well, then,¡± Darko said as he took another sip of wine. ¡°You¡¯re a real mage? I¡¯ve been tricked all along.¡±


    ¡°Real is a subjective term,¡± I said. ¡°I can cast spells. But I can¡¯t weave magic. In a way, I¡¯m the fakest mage you have ever met.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Funny phrasing,¡± Darko said. ¡°If we fought, who would win?¡±


    I watched him examine the bookshelves. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t win fights. My opponents have just lost harder than I have.¡±


    Darko sat down and laughed. ¡°Goddamn mages. The world would be so much simpler if we all wielded vigor.¡±


    ¡°Or if our powers didn¡¯t exist at all,¡± I said.


    ¡°That would be a paradise,¡± Darko said. ¡°Until we all get eaten by dragons when the Wall isn¡¯t defended.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said.


    For a moment, we shared silence. Darko was awkward around me, that much was obvious. He sipped the wine, thinking of what to say.


    ¡°I became a mage this week,¡± I said. ¡°Please believe me on that. I am a total beginner. The reason I can cast magic is because my powers work differently from everyone else.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Darko said. ¡°Are you a Saint or something? A Goddess¡¯s apostle?¡±


    My heart skipped a beat. ¡°Uhm, no?¡±


    ¡°Dang,¡± Darko said. ¡°I was hoping my team had scored big.¡±


    I looked down, biting my lip.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk more tomorrow,¡± Darko said. ¡°What¡¯s important is that you¡¯re a good guy. I know as much. And, uh, I guess this is supposed to be the part where I thank you for saving me. And I am thankful. But I honestly don¡¯t know if this was a good idea.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got no chance,¡± Darko said. ¡°Unless you¡¯re approximately strong as heck, we¡¯re never defeating Azetoth. Or even Jordan Feryah for that matter. Our fight earlier made me aware of as much. I¡¯m not nearly as strong as I thought I was. In terms of pure power, Jordan alone doubles our strength. There is a reason why I wished to drop this plan.¡±


    I paused. ¡°Then¡­ Are we continuing the plan?¡±


    ¡°We are,¡± Darko said. ¡°And it might be a mistake.¡±


    ¡°But we almost defeated Jordan already,¡± I noted.


    ¡°You almost did,¡± Darko said. ¡°Were you not with us, all of us would be either dead or trapped and tortured. I can¡¯t imagine what my father would have done to me had Jordan delivered me to his lair.¡±


    ¡°Vigor can be trained stronger, just like magic powers, no?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s what Remy taught me.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Darko said. ¡°Training is a long process. I¡¯ve trained from the age of seven to get where I am now.¡±


    ¡°But it can be trained,¡± I said. ¡°I think you should get out of this moping fit and start working.¡±


    ¡°Goddammit, Cill.¡± Darko shook his head and offered his version of a slow facepalm, a vague smile visible below. ¡°I¡¯m killing you right after Azetoth. Remember that. We¡¯ll be out celebrating our victory, and I¡¯ll slip a drop of gremlin piss in your drink.¡±


    ¡°Did you want to talk about something?¡± I asked.


    Darko sighed. ¡°No, I mentioned everything. I¡¯ll brew us a new, better plan, of course. Just know that my promises of protecting you have failed. And I¡¯m fairly certain they will continue to fail.¡±


    I wished to argue, but there was nothing to say. I could only agree. ¡°We¡¯ll work tomorrow, then? I¡¯ve got to fight more cultists?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Darko said. ¡°You¡¯re still afraid of them?¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to be afraid,¡± Darko said. ¡°Fear is healthy in moderation. I can tell you I¡¯m terrified of meeting Jord again. You¡¯ve done a phenomenal job so far.¡±


    I watched as Darko took another sip. ¡°I¡¯ll be back for more planning in some hours,¡± he said. ¡°First, I¡¯ve got a few more people I need to meet.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Good luck. And give me that.¡± I grabbed the wine glass from his hands and took a sip myself. ¡°This was my wine. And I think I¡¯m going to enjoy a few drinks before your nonsense comes in and ruins the fun.¡±


    ***


    The fresh wind of the night sky whipped Darko¡¯s hair as he sat by one of the temple¡¯s many balconies. A downpour thumped on the marble above. Nature¡¯s most beautiful song. What need was there for instruments, when one could simply construct a canopy and wait for the best of songs to appear?


    Darko had been away from his team for another hour longer than promised, waiting for his last guest. A guest he was genuinely surprised to see within the King¡¯s ranks.


    Armored footsteps sounded from behind. Finally, Trist Fel Blythe found his way alone to Darko¡¯s company. Darko could imagine the grimace on Tris¡¯s face long before the helmet came off.


    ¡°Hello, Tris,¡± Darko said with a grin. ¡°You¡¯ve grown.¡±


    Time had drawn additional lines on Tris¡¯s face, some natural, most scars from battle. He had his mother¡¯s face, though with quadrupled seriousness and far rougher skin. His shaved head had started to grow black hair, not one stroke of red visible.


    Darko considered himself lucky to have inherited his mother¡¯s red hair. In turn, he had to suffer his father¡¯s face. He and Tris were opposites in more than just their expressions.


    ¡°Darryl¡­¡± Tris said. ¡°I can¡¯t express how disappointed I am to see you.¡±


    ¡°Pfft,¡± Darko said. ¡°Here I thought you had died on your quest. Glad to see you¡¯re still kicking.¡±


    ¡°My quest has proceeded on the sidelines,¡± Tris said. ¡°Through subtle schemes. Ones that your presence risks ruining.¡±


    Darko stared at the view below. The construction workers repairing the damages of his trot through the city had finally gone to sleep. They¡¯d continue tomorrow morning. Lights were turned off throughout the city for all but the wealthiest of noble keeps. The nobles had an odd way of partying. ¡°A ball¡± they were called. Darko never understood the appeal of such fidgety revels.


    ¡°You have broken the agreement,¡± Tris said. ¡°There is no other way to put this.¡±


    ¡°I am aware,¡± Darko said. ¡°But if you recall, I signed the agreement when I was five years old, and without understanding the details of whatever I was signing. This, by law, deems the agreement invalid.¡±


    Tris placed his hand on Darko¡¯s shoulder and squeezed. Hard. ¡°Do you know how much work I put in to create your false identity, to hide you in that village? You ruined it all by choosing to play adventurer. Father will connect the dots sooner than later.¡±


    ¡°Your efforts in hiding me were great, and I am thankful,¡± Darko said. ¡°You simply made one crucial miscalculation.¡±


    Tris raised his eyebrows.


    ¡°That is, life in a barn is way too goddamn boring for a member of our lineage.¡±


    ¡°Fool,¡± Tris said. ¡°Absolute fool. I should have tied you down with a slave contract. What you¡¯ve done today is the worst betrayal our lineage could have received. I thought we agreed that you should not attempt to become clever.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t claim to have done anything smart within the last decades,¡± Darko said. ¡°I¡¯m lucky to have been born in this family. The Blythe bloodline is the only place in the world where I¡¯m only the third dumbest member of the family.¡±


    Tris¡¯s face grew another line.


    ¡°Point is, I¡¯ve done all this adventuring stuff on purpose,¡± Darko said. ¡°Father is allowed to hunt me if he so wishes. He will be easier to locate if he comes searching for me.¡±


    ¡°He will kill you,¡± Tris said.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Darko admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t plan on going down without a fight.¡±


    Darko lifted Tris¡¯s armored hand off his shoulder with the help of vigor. Then, Darko held out his hand.


    Tris stared at his hand suspiciously. He was not a wielder of vigor, but he was clad in steel plate. An outfit that was generally considered cheating within the game of Krose handshakes. Still, Tris accepted.


    Darko kept a serious look. He directed his powers at his hand, though kept a reserve ready for unexpected nonsense. Tris was known as the type of guy to cheat in play fights just to prove the game was stupid.


    No nonsense came Darko¡¯s way. He squeezed lightly on the metal protecting Tris¡¯ fragile arm. Crushing the metal should have been simple enough, though that wouldn¡¯t have been fun. This was just the opportunity to show off. Vigor was more similar to mana and magic than one could think. With enough mastery over the power, interesting feats were possible.


    Darko didn¡¯t push outward with the power of his own muscles. He injected vigor directly into Tris¡¯s glove.


    The glove shattered into pieces. The whole thing. It crumbled, slowly falling off Tris¡¯s arm. Tris¡¯s eyes shot wide.


    Darko grinned. He placed his hand on Tris¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve been a spy, correct? Where is Father?¡±


    Tris hesitated. ¡°He moves constantly. It¡¯s impossible to say where he is. His main base is a mansion in Vulusen, belonging outwardly to House Kendyll.¡±


    Darko nodded. ¡°We are the same, brother. We have always been. Don¡¯t even attempt to bear this burden yourself. Zara is ours to avenge. And the time to do so is now.¡±


    The end of


    Volume 1

 (Non-story post) The future of this series

    Volume 1 is now complete. Thanks all for reading!


    The series is going on a hiatus, most likely an indefinite one. I apologize to those who were just getting into the book, and I''m sorry that the first volume ended on a bit of a cliffhanger. I am currently not writing book 2.


    I had fun writing this book, but it was evident from the start that a book with my main character wasn''t going to pull numbers. I can''t bring myself to spend hundreds upon hundreds of hours to write a sequel that will most likely perform even worse than the first one.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    That said, I''m 70+ chapters deep into writing a new progression fantasy series about the art of runesmithing! The book will be airing some time next year, depending on how long I spend editing.


    Until then, peace out!

 New Story Announcement!

    Been working on a new story for some months now. Here''s a quick self-promotion. I''ll let the synopsis and cover do the talking.


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    The Ethersmith [Runesmithing Progression Fantasy]</a>


    The art of runesmithing died long ago. Once legendary runeswords have been reduced to mere decorations, their powers made irrelevant by the discovery of ethereal spirits. Techniques were forgotten, and any remaining runesmiths were ridiculed and shunned.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Vivian is one such runesmith. Born as an orphan and adopted into a smithery, she and her adoptive Grandpa persist with a dream. They wish to prove that runeswords are once again worthy of fighting monsters in the lands below.


    What Vivian never expected was for herself to be the one fighting. Alone in the underground with a crazed spirit that seeks to profit and grow from every monster in their wake. Below the earth awaits a subterranean labyrinth of monsters and demons, where ethereal storms ensure nothing stays dead for long¡­


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    Author''s own words:


    The Ethersmith started as a fun runesmithing and dungeon exploration story that quickly grew into faction wars and prison breakouts. Expect vast world building and harsh situations that the MC has to overcome with limited tools. Kingdom building elements will be introduced later on.


    Act 1: Prison of Zand (ongoing)


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