《Azeal Neralum》


 Ch 1 | Meeting a Goddess [Re-Write]

    I woke up today. It felt like I had been asleep, yet that can''t be right. You dream whenever you sleep. Here there were no dreams, no ill-conceived fantasies or projections of imagination. The universe in its entirety was still, completely black and unmoving. There was nothing.


    It''s impossible to notice something so apparent until it''s gone. You don''t notice that lack of mind and feeling. The lack of everything that made you what you are. It''s a sudden realization that strikes at your core. You realize that you didn''t exist; there was no I- the concept of ¡®self¡¯- and complete and utter lack of sense.


    You close your eyes once, then open them again, feeling. Noticing what had been hidden from you in plain sight. We are told that we don''t appreciate health or family until they are gone, yet it is the same with your sense of self. You don''t understand how blessed you are to merely exist until you don''t.


    ¡®Where did I go, and how did I end up here?¡¯ I had asked myself then, baffled at what had happened. But, as quickly as lightning strikes, it-- the realization--struck me, dawning upon my broken soul.


    ¡®Oh God, I¡­ I died! I can¡¯t die!¡¯ Facing the worst of outcomes, my soul had fallen into denial. Unable to comprehend the situation, entirely. But, slowly and assuredly, the denial crept away. Flashes of fragmented memories struck my mind. Things that happened long ago. In¡­ In my lifetime. It showed me who I was and those close to me, though their faces were all blurred, their names forgotten.


    ¡®Mother? Who will take care of my mother?! Pay for her recovery! And what of my son?! What of his future?! They can¡¯t live with my sister and that abusive jerk she calls her husband!¡¯


    Then, I had only one wish over all. I wished that this was all a dream. Hoping it was but a figment of my overactive imagination. A lucid dream that I had full control of. But I did not know how wrong I was.


    ¡°Wake up Wake up Wake up Wake up!¡± I called in absolute panic. One thought ran in my mind. I had to get out!


    A sudden spike of serenity struck me unexpectedly. My impressionable soul was unable to withstand its influence.


    "Calm down, tranquility, peace, serenity," a soft and motherly voice called from within the void. So far away, yet so close. Then again, what was distance when there was no sight? I, feeling the strangeness creep into my soul, could not stop the string of words that seemed to escape my mouth, as though they wished to be free of a cold prison.


    ¡°Who is there? What is going on? Please explain! Help me get out of the dark!¡± Putting all my hope in an unknown entity might not have been the wisest move, but it was the only thing that tied me to reality. To the few memories that were not shattered and were understandable.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.¡°Child, you will have your answers in time, but until then be calm for me,¡± she said in an aged voice, millennia beyond my greatest comprehension. Oh, it was definitely a She- mature and calming in ways no being had the right to be. Something no person could resist, no matter how trained they may be.


    Having no other recourse, I affirmed her request with a hesitant ¡°O...Okay.¡± For a while, time seemed to still, she wholly silent and I the same. After a time, she deemed me worthy of her alluring voice once again. Having been easy to mold, I felt gratification I never expected when she spoke.


    "You died a tragic death. Your body and soul crushed under the strain of a cosmic accident. The last vestiges of your existence were left to wander the Void aimlessly for eternity. Lost and hopeless had I not noticed your delicate glow. Your kindness was your lifeline, Child."


    Her words caused me more confusion as a million questions appeared in my mind. Trying my best, I vocalized the few I thought most important. "Void? Eternity? Soul? What of heaven and hell?" These were questions I felt myself demand rather than ask. They were essential to who I am, or at least who I had been.


    I feared her answer. Was everything I had believed in those fragments of memories all lies? Yet, her response to my question caused me more questions. "My existence is not allowed to speak of such things. Everyone has rules they must follow. But I can tell you that the manner of your death caused your soul to be trapped. Making it impossible to move on."


    What was she to have such rules? What did she know that I could not learn? How did she know what I knew not of myself? Unable to fathom the meaning of her words, I choose to leave my concerns for a later time and bring up what was most important.


    ¡°How did I die?¡± I questioned, hoping no rules bound her from this answer.


    She replied much quicker than before, startling me. ¡°What do you remember?¡± She almost sounded eager.


    As I thought of what happened to me, a spike of pain started to grow, encapsulating my entire existence in its grasp. Thrumming images long past began to pass my mind''s eye. Broken memories never meant to be seen again appeared, though without order. One second I stood there smiling at a blurry figure almost half my height, and the next I lay there all alone.


    Steadily, enough came together to get a picture of what had happened. I loved something or someone. As we enjoyed our time, evil and blurry things appeared from nowhere and attacked us. I told the one I loved to run, to escape a most horrible fate, while I was determined to stay behind and protect what I had loved. I did enough, accomplishing my final goal.


    The last of my memories was the clearest of them all. I laid down in a puddle of blood as I looked to the sky. Unable to move at all from the lack of blood. Around me were massive buildings that blocked the view from the outside world. In those moments, one thought came to me. Of how I failed to survive and provide for my family.

 Ch 2 | A Second Chance? [Re-write]

    ¡°I¡­ I remember reaching out to something or someone. Demanding they escape to safety. I remember breaking the last promise I had made. I failed to survive and take care of them. Failed to take care of my family.¡±


    The soul began to weep at its loss and failure. Unable to watch, the goddess did her best to exude calmness and peace.


    "How surprising, you remembered your final moments! That is quite unusual. Now, you died protecting your child from criminals that broke out of the prison in your city. You did well. Your child lives because you bought for him a few moments to call for help. Unfortunately for you, by the time he and help came, you were already beyond recovery. Your soul was crushed due to a cosmic accident of epic proportions. Consequently, I am not allowed to speak about it either."


    She spoke with a light tone, in hopes the soul would not sob such heart-wrenching cries. It broke her heart.


    He was but a small cluster of particles that glowed brightly per the emotions portrayed. Now, light reddish pink pulses of emotions rolled off him into the surroundings. Everything seemed to thrum at the pure show of sadness and pain.


    Feeling immense pity for the soul, she extended her hand to caress him. As she ¡®touched¡¯ him, he slowly backed away, not knowing who she really was or what her goals were in approaching him. But like a child, he slowly opened up to the affection he lacked. Sitting in her hand, he cried even harder, releasing all the pain he felt. The goddess could not take it anymore, she could not idly watch as the soul felt such tremendous pain. She brought him closer to herself, hugging him like a mother. Exuding even more of her tranquil and calming aura to help ease his suffering.


    After enough time passed to calm him, the goddess slowly brought up the topic they needed to discuss. ¡°Do you wish for a second chance? To redeem yourself?¡±


    A sudden spike of white hope began to glow brightly in the soul. With a voice more enthusiastic than the goddess expected, he said,


    ¡°Yes! Anything to have my family again.¡± She knew he misunderstood her, but she was confident in helping him.


    "I will give you two choices. One has more options, and the other has none. Do you want to hear them?" She asked cautiously, hoping that her voice made apparent what she would say next.


    ¡°Yes, mother¡­!¡± Turning pink, the soul ¡®blushed¡¯ at his mistake. But what he knew not was the effect it had on the goddess. She, a being that had lived for eons, froze at the words spoken by a mortal. But, it was not the words themselves that caused her to freeze, no it was the strength of the intent behind them. It was absolutely pure and wholly directed at her. Looking into his mind, she saw him imagining a figure older in age. He compared the goddess to her; to his mother.


    ¡°I mean, Yes!¡± his words broke her out of the trance she had been. Quickly gathering herself before the soul noticed, she almost continued to speak without thought, only to feel unease at the eagerness in his voice. Hesitantly she continued, all the while she increased her aura two-folds lest the soul breaks beyond her ability to repair.


    ¡°Your first choice is ... to go to the next plane. To true death. There you will not have options from me, for it is beyond my power." That was death. A plane onto itself; once one passed its boundaries, there is no return.


    What?! What is the second option?" the soul shimmered impatiently, hoping to grasp the last straws put in his reach.


    "The second option is a second chance at life." His soul began to release heavy wave after wave of white, pure, and burning hope. So, she waited until it slowed down to a manageable level; she did not want him to crumble.


    Having regained a modicum of sense, he spoke with the same hope he exuded, "A second chance?  I.. I will get to see mother and my son? Yes, I accept! Please, send me back."


    She prepared a massive burst of her aura, feeling a great need for it. Listen, child. Do not interrupt me and let me finish. I cannot send you back to your world, though I can send you to a different one." Releasing it, she watched as the sudden loss of hope lessened until equilibrium was achieved. Sighing mentally at the close call the soul had with destroying itself, but the soul took the opportunity to speak.


    ¡°A different-¡± She cut him off before he could fall into a spiral of sadness and depression.


    ¡°Do not interrupt me, child,¡± She chastised him. The goddess began to smile in relief as the soul started to show embarrassment and shame rather than sadness and pain.


    "You will get a second chance at life in a new world filled with magic and awe-inspiring things, but also death and destruction. You will be able to redeem yourself and protect your family without dying again. I would advise you to choose this path; it is a far safer choice."


    A small light unlike the ones before began glowing, one that quickly became apparent. It was a sign of content; starting anew.  "Okay, I choose option two. I am willing to reincarnate to another world. May I get a mother as caring as you and my own?"


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    That made it all the harder. The goddess knew the soul wasn''t being reincarnated, but instead, it was closer to transferring his existence at the age he was in his previous life. "Well, that will likely not happen..."


    She saw his confusion clear as day, then it quickly morphed into disbelief. "What? But, you gave me the options. How¡­?" He demanded, but the goddess knew what needs to be done. As her aura continued to blaze, she spoke to him in the way he saw her; as a mother


    "You have interrupted me again, little one." she chided him, influenced by her he quickly changes emotions, making him more unstable than before. The goddess knew she had to end this soon.


    "S...Sorry" he apologized, hoping to regain her favor. Taking advantage of the moment, then she continued to reach for her final goal.


    "While you will not be reincarnated, you will still be transferred to that world alone and in a random location. This will happen because of your damaged existence. Without a full soul, you will not be able to be sent to another world."


    "If I am damaged, then how will I go?" Expecting the question she answered as quickly as possible. Time was not on their side, he needed a whole soul before he deteriorated beyond her repair


    "Well, that''s where your other options come in. I will give you some of my power, which will unlock the system within you. Using my power, which will give you a set number, you will be able to purchase attributes and skills to complete your soul. Do you understand?" she explained, but unlike what she had thought would happen, he spoke with a sudden suspicion that made her feel unusual. Like a mother with a son that could not trust her.


    "Yes, but what do you seek in return? Or will you give me a part of you for nothing?" His was a fair question, who would give to others without demanding something in return


    "I ask one thing of you, build me a cathedral. A mighty one for people of all races and ethnicity to seek out my guidance, filled people who will become my worshipers!"


    She couldn''t help herself, enthusiasm dripped from her voice, and it so happens that it also greatly affected the soul as well.


    "Yes! Yes! Yes! I will do it for you! It will be marvelous!" He answered, but at the end hesitation did creep into his voice and glow.


    "Good, Good. Once you are done choosing, my name and title will be clear for you to see. Use it to build a cathedral for me, then lead my worshipers!"


    Her unease grew as his hesitation became more visible. "Umm, well, I will build you a majestic cathedral and all, but uh... well, I can''t worship you. Please?" Shocked, the goddess forgot how impressionable the being before he was. She said


    "What? Why not, am I not giving you a part of my existence?"


    "Well, Yes, and I am grateful and willing to build you this cathedral, but like I already said I can''t worship you. You know my beliefs and I... I can''t. Sorry!" His sudden apologetic tone and tiny tendrils of fear drove a spike into her heart. That was not supposed to happen, not if she wished to be a¡­ a mother.


    "Hmm. I will allow this, but in exchange, you must build me three cathedrals, deal?" A compromise was the only choice here, she couldn''t bear to watch him disappear into nothingness. If only she didn''t lose control of herself.


    "Of course!" He replied over enthusiastically.


    "Good, let me unlock your system and give you the needed existence to be a full soul again."


    She knew it was going to be a painful process, but it was necessary.


    After a while, a sudden screen appeared before the soul, though she could not read it without his permission, she had enough experience to know what it said.


    System Unlocked -


    The Goddess''s Gift - 10,585


    Build -


    Skills -


    Attributes -


    In Life Benefits -


    Traits -


    Resistances -

 Ch 3 | Accidental Modification [Re-write]

    A sudden cold grabbed him without warning. It felt as though the world was on his shoulders, a sad parody of Atlas and the celestial body he held. Within seconds, the pressure turned unbearable. In a few more, he lost consciousness, falling back into the darkness he feared. Into the nothingness, he had been made intimately familiar with.


    ¡®Ding¡¯


    He woke with a start. The noise forcing him out of the darkness that had engulfed. He did not understand how quickly time passes, so it didn''t occur to him that he had been ¡®unconscious¡¯ for time untold. Looking around frantically, he was surprised to see light so close to him. It felt like a new experience, doing something for the very first time. A thrill, he could not have thought to exist, in simply looking at a source of light. For a time, he merely floated in its glow, not thinking of what the light that caressed his soul was of any value.


    Yet, he eventually had the thought process develop. In turn, he looked at what the source of light actually was only to see squiggly lines and circles he could not understand.


    System Unlocked -


    The Goddess''s Gift - 10,585


    Build -


    Skills -


    Attributes -


    In Life Benefits -


    Traits -


    Resistances -


    ¡°What are these lines? Are they supposed to mean something?¡± He asked the empty universe that surrounded him, believing that if he vocalized his thoughts, someone out there would hear him and give an answer.


    Unbeknowest to the goddess, who had used this soul''s original language, his memories were not intact enough to understand its written form. He could communicate in the English Language, but reading or writing was beyond him if he never regained enough memory.


    The longer he floated there, the more nervous he became. There might be a source of light within the darkness, but it was not enough to drive the fear from his soul. Loneliness was a curse he feared just as much as the darkness, and without the motherly voices assurance of returning, he worried she would never come back.


    This drove him to do what he knew to be folly. A mistake that could forever define him in his chance to redeem himself. He began to do his best to decipher the language the words were in.


    ''Sy... Syteam? No System, she said that she would unlock a system within me. That means that the second word is Unlocked not Unalokead.'' He thought to himself, but a sudden spike of pain hit him without restraint. Images began to appear once again, but this time one was clearer than the others. The soul shook in grief and sadness. It remembered more; it wished it never had. To remember the names of those you loved most made moving on harder and to a soul so impressionable, almost impossible.


    ¡®S... Sa... My... My son''s name! Samuel! Samuel!'' He cried, his heart tearing. His most loved, he remembered him and his name. Yet, he was deprived of his face. Torture to a single father whose life was entirely for his family. He did not have the goddess¡¯s influence to keep him calm and serene. No, the void was empty except for him and his depression; a horrible match for any who suffer so.


    ''I am so sorry I left you, Samuel! I am so so sorry! I love you my dearest son! Please be okay. I would give anything to be with you again!''


    As a soul, he was weak and impressionable, but he was also eternal. Never having a body to deteriorate and begin the process to move onto the next realm. So for ages and ages, he cried. Grief and depression holding him in their ineluctable prison. But, it is undeniable that time would heal all grievous wounds. And so it did for him. His grief slowly resided to a more reasonable thought, and with it left the depression.


    He knew something for sure, whatever he decided to do, he needed to get out of here. He needed to see all the colors, but more importantly, he needed to escape his loneliness.


    It was then that he decided to do what he should not have done. He played with the screen, hoping a reaction would be forthcoming. And just as he thought, a change did come.


    System -


    The Goddess''s Gift - 10,585


    Modifications -


    The Child of a Valkyrie


    (Females)


    (Higher Race)


    8,000


    The Valkyrie were a race of warriors that served the Goddess of war Anaiya. Due to a catastrophic war that brought down punishment from The One, their race almost became extinct with the rest of the Higher Races. After the conclusion of the war, only one Valkyrie survived. Vowing to never raise a blade except in self-defense, she married a mortal within the Isle of Light governed by the Light Elves and their warrior class of Fire Elves.


    Now her offspring are many and remember the opening of the Gates of Cercius. To prevent any future culling, they carry a code of honor to never raise a blade against another soul except to protect.


    The Child of a Valkyrie gives the weapons mastery of every kind except the Warhammer. Black feathered wings from mana, that allow them to become great aerial combatants. And extraordinary strength and Magical resistance.


    Dragonian Heritage


    8,000


    The Dragons are known for their dominance in not only in physical prowess, but also their magical ability. The Dragons were also known to take Elvish concubines when their tastes suited so; forcefully. After eras of oppression, all ten nation of elves of old gathered forces and battled the dragons. This war waged for over fifteen millennia and ended with the defeat of the mighty dragons leaving only their youngest who remember little of the war, and the offspring the various elves had with the dragons. But the cost to the elves was also high, of the ten nations only seven survived; and from the seven only four have any valid form of government.


    Now, the Dragonian Empire, lead by the half dragons, is one of the greatest empires to exist. But, their predecessor''s oppression continues to live in the form of slavery. They created the first magical slave collars.


    The Dragonian Heritage gives a more substantial portion of Dragon Blood compared to the now existing Dragonkin. Your build will be slim but long and covered in scales. Wings similar to leather; broad and strong enough to allow them to fly. Incredible strength and magical abilities like that of the Drelend.


    Seraphim Heritage


    (Higher Race)


    8,000


    The Seraphim were the soldiers of the gods. Used in battle for their weapons mastery only matched by the Valkyrie and their magical prowess. But, due to the hunger of the gods, the war waged on endlessly until the Gates Of Cercuis opened. Not understanding what this meant all the warring gods stopped their war to face this new threat. But, unbeknownst to them this was their punishment from The One for the destruction they had caused. Out came True Angels and their counterparts the True Demons. Unlike the Seraphim they were genderless and mighty. In a matter of days, the god''s numbers were culled to only that of a few, but a greater price was paid. All higher races used by the gods were eliminated with only a single survivor from the Valkyrie; the Seraphim and the rest all became extinct. The only remaining vestiges of their existence came in the offspring they had with mortals. Now hidden in the tallest mountains of the Isle of Night, they all share the land peacefully with the secretive race of Night Elves and their counterparts the Dark Elves.


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    The Seraphim Heritage gives you weapons mastery of every kind. Feathered wings of white and beauty unmatched. The capability of true aerial battle. And an enormous mana capacity to complement their battle prowess.


    Curse of Ragual


    Blessing of Astra


    (9,485)


    The Ragual Curse, brought down by Ragual, was a punishment to the Drelend, a race of warriors renowned for their ability and beauty, for the destruction of his most sacred church. But, Astra, unable to watch her worshippers suffer such a deformed and beastly transformation, blessed them with most of her power. Doing this she permanently damaged herself.


    The Curse gives them large bodies and extraordinary speed and strength but takes away a large portion of their intelligence and their beauty. Making them nothing more then semi-sentient beasts.


    The Blessing gives them great wisdom and intelligence making them exceptional mages second only to Dragons and the Higher Races. But most importantly, this gave them their full sentience back.


    Unlike the other two characteristics, their beauty was not restored to its previous heights. Instead, one would call them majestic in the sense of a powerful and elegant predator rather than the pure beauty of an Angel.


    They were of large build with broad shoulders, tusks from their lower jaw. Their skulls had horns that covered the exterior in beautiful swirls; similar to that of a mountain ram. Their bodies coated with metal that grows naturally on their chests, the side of their faces and chin, forearms, thighs, and shoulders.


    The curse transforms the person through an excruciating process. Elongating, widening and molding their bone structure. And changing skin texture, color, and strength. But most painful is the growth of the glossy metal plates.


    Now they are known as the Raug. But unlike their dominant predecessors, they are the battle slaves of the Dragonian Empire after the DragonKin took advantage of their period of semi-sentience to enslave them.


    The Kitsune''s Image


    (Higher Race)


    Unaffiliated in the War of Gods


    (8000)


    The Kitsune are a race of elders within the Beastkin Kingdom. Known for their elegance and their most dominant Illusionary Magic. It is said that the Kitsune are the descendants of the god of Chaos Teamul. Teamul, unlike what many may say, did not participate in the War of Gods making him and his creations exempt from the culling; receiving only a stern warning instead.


    Now there are only two clans left of the Kitsune''s majestic race alive; even then their numbers are no more than fifty each.


    The Beasts of Teamul


    (Semi-Sentient unless Intelligence is of high rank)


    (7000)


    The Beasts of Teamul are a dormant race of Guardians protecting the Beastkin Kingdom from the warring race of Green Orcs of Javal. Each created differently. Their looks can be quite horrendous, but in exchange, they gain enormous amounts of speed and strength. These beasts are better known as Chimeras. Of the many races of Chimeras, the few that stand out are the Griffons, Hippogriff, Pegasus, and Manticores.


    (You will be given the option to create your own build with different beasts or use a pre-existing one.)


    Without the necessary intelligence, you will become semi-sentient for the first ten millennia.


    Elemental Merging


    1 - 1,750, 2 - 2,500,


    3 - 3,500, 4 - 5000


    Any Additional Element will be worth 1,750


    Become your most favored element itself. Giving you unmatched control of the elements chosen. You run the risk of not being fully compatible with certain elements that would weaken you considerably, but the rewards far outweigh the risk. You will be given the option to choose a build which will be your vessel to the mortal plane from the elemental. If your physical body is destroyed, then your elemental existence will be transferred back to the elemental plane. The only way to return to the mortal plane would to either create a binding contract with a mortal or build your own vessel.


    (Creation of vessel without massive amounts of at least five different elements will not be possible)


    He stayed there, looking at the long script that was before him. It had so much information, yet he understood nothing of it.


    ¡°What do I do now?¡± He groaned to himself. He kept trying to decipher something from it all, yet could not get anything more than he had more points from the goddess than what the options were worth. Then again, that was quite obvious if he considered those circles numbers. The one with more digits was the highest between them all.


    Though it was a surmountable task that stood in front of him, he could not falter when his mind was at stake. The emptiness and lack of anything were getting to him. So, with a crippled thought process from the loss of memory, he chose randomly.


    System -


    Do you wish to finalize your Choice?


    Yes -


    No -


    ¡®Finally, something I understand!¡¯ Oh, he knew what yes and no were. They were the basis of the basic, then again as a parent with few means, he has had to use ¡®no¡¯ too many time.


    Mentally pressing ¡®Yes,¡¯ he watched as the goddess¡¯s point counter suddenly dropped, slowing as it got closer to what was taken. As it reached the final point, he felt himself condense without regard to his feeling of pain.


    Screaming without restraint, he tried to get away from the pressure. This time he didn''t fall asleep, though he would have welcomed it to stay away from the torture he had to endure. For a time it continued, until as suddenly as it had appeared it disappeared. Leaving him feeling better then he could have imagined.


    Riding the euphoria, he looked back at his screen only to notice something that made him extremely nervous.


    The last option was greyed out.

 Ch 4 | Options? [Rewrite]

    Having miscalculated the amount of damage the soul had been inflicted by, it took more out of the goddess than she had expected. She did not have enough mana gathered at the moment, within her, to give him a whole soul. So, she was forced to use her external mana pool to make up for what she had not. Preparing the necessary modem to transfer the pure mana without killing herself, she also prepared herself mentally.


    Although it would make making him whole a simple task, the pure energies in her external mana pool were too chaotic to be used this way. It would tear her insides apart as they ravaged their way through her to the soul. Gritting her teeth, she opened the dam to the mana pool. As though they were seeking salvation, they came rushing into her without stopping. It took a while to create a spiral in which she could transfer the energy to the soul. But with the modem she had created, it went without any hitches.


    Quickly, the energy began to flow out of her into the poor soul; like hounds sent to hunt prey. She watched as they gathered around him then condensed into a semisolid form. The pressure, she knew, was going to be unable, so, she forced the soul to lose consciousness, lest he goes mad from the pain.


    A long time passed as she continued to feed him more energy until he was full and whole again. Slowly she pulled what had remained back into her, and through the opened dam. Closing it, she released a sigh of relief, having endured great pain. She would need to heal herself for a long time if she hoped to regain her full strength.


    Leaving the soul, she headed into her domain. A white castle sitting on top of clouds. Spires, majestic in nature, grew to lengths not imagined neither in the soul''s world nor this one. She continued on her way, entering the castle. Walking through the vast halls, she hunched her back at the pain she had caused herself. It would be a little longer until she made it to her meditation room.


    Once she reached it, she opened the doors without regards to their state of being. Quickly hurrying to the middle, she activated what she had made long ago. During the times of great war. A sudden cocoon of pinkish gold energies slowly encapsulated her. Covering her entirely with a healing aura. For a period, even the gods would consider as long, she stayed there imagining the cathedrals the soul should have already built for her.


    Coming out, she quickly released a scanning pulse to find his signature mana. Only to find him nowhere in the world. Confused she looked back to where he was long ago, just to see him as he was. Unmoving, unchanged, he merely floated there. Frozen in the darkness that had become his home.


    She hurried there, imagining the worst scenes playing out. Of things, she had not considered. Once she reached his location, cautiously she neared him and asked what she needed to know.


    ¡°Are you okay? What are you still doing here?¡± From afar, it seemed as though he had completely used the energy she had provided form him, but the closer she got, the more it became visible that he had only used a major portion instead of the whole.


    ¡°Why have you not completed using the energies I had given you?¡± He stared at her for a time, seeming to hesitate in his speech. ¡°Umm, I don''t understand the script used here. You need to translate them for me.¡± He glowed in embarrassment, like a child, while she sighed in relief. Thankfully, this was nowhere near the worst outcome. But, it still didn''t make sense to her. She had used the language from his memories instead of the Olden Language. Why would he-


    ¡°Oh, your memories, they were broken apart. You don''t recognize this?¡± The goddess asked to make sure she was on the correct path. ¡°No, its foreign to me,¡± he replied with surety.


    This also made a significant issue for them, a major portion of the energy she had given him had been used. He could have done anything, and without having waited, she would not know what it was. The worst-case scenario was if he made a modification. Within those were curses that deducted a major portion of one attribute to bolster another. Thankfully, she knew she could balance out his attributes to reach an equilibrium with all moderate curses, but anything major could be detrimental to his existence.


    ¡°Let me see, child. Hopefully, it isn''t anything detrimental to you or a modification. Let me see your Status Screen.¡± A sudden glow of extreme nervousness bellowed from the soul. ¡°I need to know what you chose to help you.¡± she coaxed him.


    ¡°I...I don''t know how to show you.¡± Smiling, she spoke with certainty to help him get through this. ¡°Follow my guidance, and we will make sure you are in top shape.¡±


    She sent a tendril of mana waiting for him. Slowly, he opened himself up to her lead. Through this, she sowed him what he had to do to share his status screen with her. Internally cursing, the first thing that was glaringly obvious was the modification tab that had been greyed out. She couldn''t leave him without a bit of balance, lest he becomes cursed.


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    ¡°You have used the energy on a modification. It is possibly the worst choice you could have blindly chosen from. In it, some curses will take away a major portion of one attribute and strengthen another. For instance, you could become a troll with massive strength and regeneration, but in turn, you will lose sentience. Another example is turning into a Vampire. Though you are technically immortal, you can only exist under the moon; the sun would burn you alive. Fortunately for you, I have enough experience in the world to know how to reach a balance between your attributes. Therefore I will have to give you more energy and add them to where I tell you.¡±


    Pulling mana from her inner mana pool, she used the connection between them to give the amount necessary. Thankfully, it was in the bounds of what she was capable of without an external mana pool. Helping him open his attributes tab, she looked on at it.


    System -


    The Goddess''s Gift - 6500


    Attributes -


    Strength - 16 + Per Point 30


    Constitution - 14 + Per Point 30


    Endurance - 15 + Per Point 30


    Intelligence - 9 + Per Point 50


    Wisdom - 9 + Per Point 50


    Agility - 11 + Per Point 50


    Dexterity - 10 + Per Point 50


    Perception - 10 + Per Point 50


    Charisma - 8 + Per Point 70


    ¡°It seems like you were quite strong for a normal human, yet not the most intelligent or charismatic.¡± Using this opportunity, she listed the attributes and their values.


    ¡°Do you have any question about the attributes?¡± With a quick answer, he replied with confidence, ¡°Nope! They are all self-explanatory, though I didn''t expect them to be so gamelike.¡±


    "Great! We need to make sure that your strength and dexterity are both 35 and endurance at 30; making you quite strong and durable. While Intelligence will be good at 23 and Wisdom at 27 with that base, you would start out as a rank four wizard with massive mana regeneration. Lastly is your charisma, we will pull it up to 20 which is much above average. That would cost you 4710 energy. With only 1890 points left, what do you want to do?"


    "I would like to bring my agility, constitution, and perception all 20. And Uhh... what about the other categories?"


    "Hmm, you do not have to worry about build since it will automatically give you one similar to your previous life. In life benefits will be a waste; monetary gains are so~ limited. Traits, you will get those when you gain outstanding achievements in life. Hmm ... maybe I can get you a weapons skill? What type of weapon would you like to use." she asked, giving him a final choice in what he wanted.


    "It seems to me like I am quite strong so a great sword would be wonderful!" She laughed at his over-enthusiasm. The goddess could see him imagining himself a noble warrior wielding a mighty sword. A good sign as any that he chose to be a ¡®noble¡¯ warrior instead of other bloodier options.


    ¡°I must warn you. Even though you get the skill, it does not give you any inherent knowledge of the weapon. Instead, it only speeds up the learning ability.¡± The soul visibly deflated as he heard what she had said. Trying to pull his emotions back to where they were, checking his affinities, she noticed he had already had an earth affinity making it just in the price of what he had left.


    "Okay, you have 390 points left. With that, I can get you a great affinity with only earth magic. Do you ..." the soul suddenly had a glazed appearance or the pulsing equivalent. For a while, she waited, but when he seemed to not come out, she tried to pull him out of his trance with little success. Not knowing what happened she decided to use the necessary points to take the affinity boost for him.


    Unbeknownst to her, his sheer excitement at the mere mention of magic was the cause of his strange actions. His only thoughts were that of a child.


    ''Magic! I am going to use magic!''

 Ch 5 | Final Remarks

    Magic! The ultimate dream of children, Everywhere! No matter who you are or what conditions you''ve grown in, the one thing we all have in common is the DREAM!


    Throwing fireballs out of our palms into a waiting horde of monsters!


    Bringing down a meteor from outer space with a flick of the wrist!


    Causing a tsunami to wash away your most hated nemesis; the super handsome boy four seats to your left that your crush has a crush on!


    Flying away on a hurricane to whatever destination you wish around the world!


    Magic! A word with a million fantasies within it!


    ''I am going to be shooting out Lasers from my eyes! Throwing Fire Tornados at all my enemies! Cause Earthquakes to gobble up entire CITIES!''


    Cackling madly at the prospect of using magic, he did not notice the goddess leave or the fact that he had been daydreaming for ''days'' already. That is until that abominable sound came again.


    Ding!


    System -


    Do you wish to finalize your choice?


    Yes - No -


    ''Ahhh! Why can''t that horrible screen leave me alone; constantly badgering me!''


    Every hour that passed, the screen had popped up to remind him of his choice and promised life. Every time it showed up, he swiped it away with his mind. To him at that moment, it was nothing more than a nuisance. Like a buzzing fly that you can''t seem to hit no matter how hard you try.


    Finding himself out of his most joyful mood, he finally deemed the blue screen worthy of his attention. To notice that all the magical fantasies hinged on it entirely! With a mentally ''humph,'' he pressed ''Yes.''


    Looking around, he noticed the goddess was not here anymore. As he wondered where she went this time, a second blue screen opened in front of him,


    The Goddess


    Greetings little one,


    If you are reading this, then you have completed in making yourself a complete and whole soul. Before you go, you will need a few bits of information to move about without looking extremely suspicious by the common person. First, the world you are going to go to is called Telentra. Within Telentra there are six continents. Javal, the land of green orcs and the central government of the BeastKin Kingdom. Telfun, the home of the Dark Orcs. A truly dark race indeed. Menlinhiel, Land of the High Elves and their servants, The Snow Elves. Draoul, Land of the DragonKin. Leneros, Land of the Light Elves. And Lastly, the biggest of the continents, Swlvenous, the land of origins. From this continent, all races had originated from, then spread out due to war with each other.


    You will land on Swlvenous. Within The Seven Duchies, where exactly I do not know.


    On Swlvenous, seven races have staked a substantial claim. They are the seven duchies (Humans very tolerant of other races, but have a significant slave market). The Holy Kingdom (Humans intolerant of others). The Grey Orcs of Himidal (Though they are usually reclusive and an honorable race, once they enter the battlefield, all armies fall before them). The Dark Orcs of Telfun (A race of Vile beings, they seek only death and destruction). The BeastKin Kingdom (Lead by a Coalition of Elders), the Green Orcs of Javal (A tribal race of Orcs that can stand against the Grey Orcs if they ever find unity). And lastly the Forest Elves of Retuali (A Nation hidden within one of the more dangerous forests. Only contact ever made with them was through trade at their borders).Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Now the seven duchies. As its name states, it is split into Seven duchies controlled by seven families. The Royal family Livths, the Orbes, the Irks, the Durance, the Falen, the Lendial, and the Aistmor family.


    Remember to keep your head down until you understand more about the customs and traditions of the land you find yourself in. Be careful, my child. I will be watching you from afar. Always remember that.


    P.S. As a parting gift for the foreseeable future, I am giving you a knowledge stone of the primary language within the Seven Duchies, a set of clothes to cover yourself up, and five golden coins.


    Your Goddess,


    Fenia - The Goddess of War, Redemption, and Perseverance


    - When you are done reading, Press here to be transferred to your new world! -


    Suddenly finding himself quite emotional at the care this kind being showed him, he read the note multiple times to fully memorize the information she had given, but more importantly to him at that time was her name and title.


    ''Thank You, Fenia. This I will never forget. You will have your cathedrals, and they will be Magnificent!''


    After composing himself, he pressed on the bottom tab. As soon as he did it though, a rippling pain shot out of the center of his soul. It was as if his essence had broken out and grabbed the energy the goddess had given him, forcing it to the center of his soul. But just as suddenly as the pain came, it left without a single trace.


    Exclaiming in relief, he waited for unconsciousness to come so he can wake up in the new world, yet it never happened. As he floated there, a bright white light started to shine right above him at a single point. It then began to expand until it was almost twice as wide as he was. Without warning, the light encompassed him within it.


    ''Ahhh!! My Eyes!!''


    As it covered him, its light started to increase causing him much pain because he could not cover his "Eyes," or its equivalent. After what felt like an eternity of torture, he felt an all familiar pull.


    ''NoNoNoNoNoNo! Not gravity! Ahh!''


    Feeling like he was falling off a 100-story skyscraper, he moved his arms to cover his face instinctively.


    ''Wait, did I just move my ''Arms''?''


    He looked down at himself and noticed that he not only had perfectly normal arms but a normal chest and even feet!


    ''Hahahaha! I have FEEET!''


    As he continued to revel in his perfectly normal body, and the fact that he didn''t have any weird deformities, he suddenly hit the ground.


    Thump!


    Spitting grass out of his mouth he cried out,


    "Ugh ¡­ That hurt! Wasn''t I supposed to dematerialize and suddenly appear in some princess''s castle as she begs me for help against some Demon Lord?"


    Sitting up, he started to check his entire body for any weird lumps, bumps, or holes. Just as he finished all visible parts of his body, he checked that last remaining area.


    Looking down, he sighed in relief that everything down there was alright.


    "Thank God, nothing weird happened to my body. Now, where are the clothes she promised me?"


    Stepping forward, a sudden ''Thump!'' startled him. Looking back at where he was standing just a second ago, he found a sack that looked filled.


    ''Isn''t that dangerous?''


    "Never mind that, let''s see what is in this potato sack."


    Bending down, he picked up the bag and dumped out everything within it. Out came the shiny golden coins, a set of clothes, and a mysterious glowing stone. He took the clothes off the ground and started to put them on,


    "Well, at least they are soft and comfortable. Was kinda afraid that they might be as rough as that sack."


    Once he was fully clothed, he looked back at the pile of shiny coins and the single glowing rock that was left. After picking up the coins and putting them in his pocket, he reached out to the bright stone. But as he touched it, an electrifying zap hit him, he pupils dilated as he stared out into nothing.


    In his mind, an enormous amount of information was suddenly forced deep within. Words of unknown origin that made no sense just a second ago were so familiar he would have thought that they were apart of his first language had he not known it was from the glowing stone. Unable to take any more, his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell backward; unconscious.


    Waking up after an undetermined time he screamed at the goddess as if she could hear him,


    "You could have told me!!! I would have been better prepared to be electrocuted!! I could ha¡­"


    He noticed something so glaringly obvious; it was a wonder he missed it.


    "What the HELL!!!"

 Ch 6 | Is he Insane?

    "What the HELL!" He looked at himself with utter surprise.


    "I ¡­ I am dark GREY!! GREY!!"


    Falling to his knees, he screams to the heavens in hopelessness. Having thought he escaped any weird modification.


    ''Why couldn''t I grow some feathered wings or have extreme beauty?''


    Lamenting at the color of his skin, he cradles his head in his hands, but as he did so he felt long and pointy ears!


    ''Noooo!''


    "If I have these ears then ¡­ then I might be an elf!! A Hipster ¡­ Ugh, I am going to be sick." He cringed in complete disgust, wishing to be anything other than a nature loving, tree hugging, flower kissing Elf.


    ''But aren''t Elves supposed to be super white, tall, and with silk-like hair? Or am I just a subspecies¡­ That would be even worse! I don''t want to be considered a minority in some medieval era!''


    Sighing heavily, he understood that he would just have to deal with it.


    ''Might as well be the MLK Jr. of this world.''


    Feeling sore, he stretched in hopes to get relief from the weird pain, yet it clung to him like a leach. He then remembered that he had attributes and Magic!


    "Blue Screen! Profile! Attributes? Status?"


    ''What happened to those pesky screens when you need them! Constantly bugging me until I need them, then they just disappear!''


    For hours he called out different words in both languages hoping to see his attributes, but they never appeared. Finally giving up due to his unusually great hunger and thirst, he got up to look at his surroundings.


    "Damn ¡­" Looking as far as his enhanced eyes could, he could only see grass, more grass, then even more grass. A veritable sea of grass stood in front of him.


    "Ugh ¡­ might as well as start walking, might see something somewhere."


    <hr>


    "Goddess Damn this!" As a retired general of the Duchies and more importantly of the Orbeian armies fighting those Damnable Dark Orcs, one would think he would be treated with a modicum of respect and even reverence! But no! He must deal with this!


    Screaming at the top of his lungs,


    "I am titled as the Impenetrable Fortress! The Bane of Venral ¨C City of those damned Dark Orcs! I have not lost a battle since I first took command! Yet, here I am reading this piece of Parchment from the Duke!" Continuing his tirade of the most vulgar words he could come up with, he was interrupted by the opening of his large carriage doors. Waiting to put whoever dared to interrupt him in their place, he breathes in as much air and holds it to start another 30-minute tirade.


    "Father ¡­" Letting out his breath, he couldn''t treat his beautiful daughters to such things.


    The two walked in with unmatched elegance and poise. His first daughter, who he and his wife (May the goddess protect her waiting soul) had adapted, was a Tigress. His wife had wanted to name her after her grandmother, Lana because she reminded her of the incredibly strong personalities she had. Lana was roughly 5''9 with an extremely powerful build. Red hair rolled out of the scarf she had on to protect herself from the rays of the sun. She had a habit of constantly swiping at the hair which hung loose.


    His second daughter, Sarah, was his actual daughter from his wife. She somehow got nothing from his side of the family except the brown hair. Everything else was from her mother. Her short stature, voluptuous body, thin nose, and sharp chin. Many times, he wondered if that chin of hers would cut through metal.


    "Father, you need to watch your tongue." Lana berated,


    "Ahh! But this political Oelcrap is infuriating! After everything I have done for this nation, I am being sent to a border city. I should be given some prime land within the royal borders! Not being sent as an aid to some stuck-up lower nobility! I, Harold of the Family of Winsten ¨C a Middle Noble, am to be sent as an Aid to the Frank family."


    Giggling, Sarah leads her father to his seat.


    "Father you don''t want those peacocks to hear you speak like this. You are supposed to be a cultured man; who speaks nothing but the most eloquent words. Not a Sailor from Trelas. Or a pirate from the island of Bonlan."


    "Yes, you are supposed to be the shinning general that all admire. We will make it to Thols and make it worth being mentioned by the king himself soon enough. Another accolade added to your repertoire. They will remember you as the man that lead that backwater village to a city of epic proportions! That will have waves of those Orcs, crash on to its walls to break like every army that has ever faced you." Lana completed her sisters thought,


    Sighing in happiness, he exclaimed,The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "It is a wonder what you two can do to my mood. I was ready to lead an army to the capital of the duchy and challenge Dendar Orbes himself! But now, I have hope again that we will somehow make due with what little we have."


    Embracing them, Harold could not be happier with his daughters. The first an accomplished warrior and leader of men like her father. And the other a genius mage just like her mother.


    "Let us eat dinner, father. You look famished." Sarah suggested,


    "Yes, my lovely flower. Let us eat."


    During their dinner, a knock sounded on their carriage door. Frowning at the interruption of his time with his daughters; something he knew he had preciously little of. Getting up, he slammed the door open and glared at the guard fidgeting in front of him.


    "Who dares interrupt dinner with my daughters!"


    "Umm ¡­ G¡­ General!" the guard saluted clumsily, "We have a situation that needs you and your daughters to attend to it."


    "What could possibly be so important or out of place that you will need not only my presence but also the presence of my daughters!"


    "I ¡­ Its best if you come yourself, General. You would not believe me otherwise",


    As the general was about to lose his temper, Lana, touched his shoulder and consoled him,


    "Father, it is okay. Let us see what is going on."


    <hr>


    "What the Hell?" Sarah exclaimed at the odd sight in front of her


    "What the Hell, indeed. Have you seen anything like this father?" Lana asked,


    "No. This is a first" replied Harold,


    As they stood there with ten guards watching this most confusing scene happen, the guard captain had to ask,


    "Is he talking to the Oel?"


    In front of them was what seemed to be a tall Dark Elf with bright clothe talking to an Oel.


    Suddenly, the weird man started to laugh maniacally


    "Hahaha! This is one funny Ox!"


    "Mooo"


    "What you''re not an Ox? Then you must be a Yak, no no no! An armored byson 7 feet tall! Haha"


    "Mooooo Moooo"


    "Neither? Then what are you?"


    "Mo Mooo Maooo"


    "A Mooo"


    "Maooo"


    "Oh, my apologies armored one! You are a Maooo!"


    Hearing this, the Oel grunted in satisfaction.


    Lana "He must have a sunstroke; the heat is unbearable, and the sky has no clouds."


    "More like insane," Sarah replied,


    As they continued to stare at this most baffling sight, the general ordered a few guards to grab the man, but once they touched him, they exclaimed in pain while the man fell to his back.


    "What is going on now?!" the general shouted,


    "He is burning hot, General. And he fell unconscious, so it may be better to get a stretcher and the healer to see to him."


    "Hurry! Guard Captain, get a few men and clear out a wagon or carriage to put him in."


    After giving out orders to his men, the general and his daughters all left the scene and the unbearable sun.


    <hr>


    "Will he be okay Master Healer? Every few hours he starts screaming like his soul depended on it."


    Sarah asked the healer not because she really cared about him per se, but because she thought that no one should go through what this poor soul is. Throughout the night he had screamed his lungs out and flayed his arms until they bruised. That is until they could tie him down to a wagon, but even then, that just made him cry out louder.


    Worse was the fact that they could hear his bones grind against each other, and see his skin boiling.


    "Worry not little one. He will make it. Though how much pain he will have to go through till its done is not known to me." Said an old wizen man that looked like he was about to keel over at any second.


    Sarah, though she thought healers where secondary to mages, still had a great deal of respect for this man. His looks might deceive you, but he was the greatest battle healer within the Seven Duchies. His mastery of the staff challenged her father''s mastery of the sword. He was also the reason her father was being sent out to a backwater village, named Toe''l, or was it Thowl? She could not remember the name of the city for the life of her! She couldn''t ask her father, or he would berate her for not paying better attention at his family meetings. Those meetings were just horribly monotone. How Lana could survive them, she did not know.


    Her father and this old man were the best of friends, having met each other during the war. Both eventually became respected and feared names. Each having a modicum of power for serving so long. Once they retired, the Orbes Family had wanted to hire the healer for their family, but he rejected them to stay with her father. Unable to get retribution from them, Dendar Orbes had convinced the Royal Duke not to give her father the land he requested within the royal duchy, but a village close to the border using the Dark Orcs as an excuse. That if the hordes to break through the line, it would be imperative to have a General there to take hold of the defense. And what better person to be there than the Impenetrable Fortress himself, General Harold Winsten. Somehow, Dendar had convinced the royal duke not actually to give him the city itself but to be what accounted as an aid to a lower noble family, in exchange their family got 25% of all money circulated within the city and its surrounding villages and hamlets. Even though they would be getting an enormous amount of coin, but the dishonor in serving a noble with a lesser rank was detrimental to her father''s mental health.


    "Until what is done?"


    "You see these stretch marks all over his skin and how you hear his done grind against each other?"


    "Yes," Sarah answered,


    "Well, those are signs of a transformation! His body is being changed! But, even compared to what I''ve seen this is different. It is quite intriguing!"


    "You have seen something similar to this?"


    "Yes, a long time ago, when your father and I were still recruits. There was a slave we met who used a potion to transform his body after he got out of those chains. I got to study his transformation! It was amazing! But, this here is different. It is like he had already used the potion, but his body is forcing itself back to his previous form! It will be quite painful, especially if he gets any taller. Which he will be."


    A transformation? Sarah couldn''t believe what she was hearing. If a slave could transform his body, then anyone can! Everyone would have the perfect body, and every country would be filled with spies!


    "What is stopping everyone from getting this potion?"


    "Well, the guy died ten days later and with him the secret to creating the potion. But it seems like he made more than two, and this young fellow somehow got his hands on one."


    Lana, who was quietly standing in the corner quietly, finally decided to speak,


    "If he is an escaped slave, do you think we should send him back to his owner?"


    Laughing the old healer, turned to look at Lana, with a grin he said,


    "Well, that''s up to what he was before he turned into this dark elf and considering his size¡­" Stroking his wispy beard, his voice suddenly had a sharpness and solemnity that was not usually heard,


    "If I am right, then I do not think any of us would survive if we tried to capture him."


    Shocking the girls at his sudden solemn tone and words, they tried to get him to explain further, but he would not speak.


    "All I can say is, May the Goddess of Life have mercy upon him. For he has much more pain to go through."

 Ch 7 | Demon!

    POV - General Harold Winsten


    Walking into the old healer''s pavilion, Harold notices the worried expression he had on. As one of the greatest battle healers on the continent, little could worry such a man. And even less could make him brood in such a way, especially with Harold there to aid him.


    "Roland, what has you worried so? Is it the ominous things you have been telling my daughters? What is it about this person that makes you so warry."


    Looking back towards Harold, Roland''s eyes held uncertainty and even a hint of fear that he had only seen once since they were recruits.


    "I think he is one of them, Harold."


    Eyes widening with surprise, the general continued to stare at the old healer as he contemplated those words.


    "Are you sure? Maybe you made a mistake. Or¡­ or he is just a Demon!" Anxiousness filled him, and worse, a feeling he had hoped never to return exposed its most hideous visage.


    He, General Harold Winsten, The Impenetrable Fortress, The Bane of Venral felt fear for the first time since that most horrible day. A day he hoped to never remember in its most horrid detail.


    "I am certain, Harold! The way his bones were structured! The toughness of his skin even what grew on his skull! It was all there!" Screaming, Roland showed more emotion the longer he sat.


    "But, there is a silver lining." Hope filled the general''s heart. Maybe just maybe it was not what they feared.


    "He, and its most definitely a he, is still quite young. Not more than 25 summers of age by the looks of it. And best yet, he will most likely start at Level 1 again because of the potion reverting."


    A young, level 1 of them. Most likely impressionable if that is true! Maybe I can take advantage of this. Get some of their blood in my family as the best-case scenario or at worse we part as friends. Smiling mischievously, he did not notice the disapproving look Roland was giving him.


    "I know you well, Harold! That smile means you are planning something devious in your mind. Listen here. I will not allow you to harm him or manipulate him. If he somehow finds out you are taking advantage of him, imagine the destruction he will cause. And you will likely not see the end of it; meeting a blade head on or a spell face first! Treat him with respect, and respect will be returned. If he is anything like them, then he will be wise and with a weird limiter on his emotions during battle or extreme stress. But most importantly, he will be powerful!"


    A hint of redness crept up the general''s face as he was berated by his long-time friend. He hated how Roland could read his thoughts like an open book. It was quite the nuisance, especially when he was up to something devious.


    As they both continued to speak an ear-piercing scream was heard within the camp.


    "AHHHHHHH!"


    Springing up, Harold rushes out of the tent to find a fire spreading and his daughter Sarah continuously screaming as she kept on throwing Fireball after Fireball at something.


    Unsheathing his sword and picking up his tower shield while Roland grabbed his battle staff, he ran and grouped up with Lana as she ordered the guards into formation. Finally reaching her, the general''s face turned into a practiced straight expression showing no emotions at all, he then asked,


    "What is the situation?! What are we being attacked by? How many? Are there any mages with them? Any cavalry, or berserkers? Guard Captain! Phalanx Formation! Spears to the front and sides to protect our flanks! Mages and Archers behind! Prepare a volley to be released at my command! Go, Go, Go!"


    Looking back at his daughters, he waits until they catch their breath to explain the situation to him.


    "F¡­ Father! Th¡­ There is a DEMON!!! A demon was inside the insane man''s carriage! It was enormous! At least ten feet tall! With metal armor and horns that swirled around! H.. His ¡­ His red eyes bore into my Soul!" Sarah started to rave at her father, being unable to speak clearly.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "Slow down, Sarah. From the beginning, tell me everything that happened!" He commanded, but for some reason, his daughter started to blush.


    "Umm¡­ Uhh¡­ Well, I have been taking care of the crazy person." Raising an eyebrow at his daughter, who he knew hated to do any chores at all, and even zoned out during their family debriefings, Harold held his tongue and let her finish,


    "And I decided to wake up early to get water and a towel to wash his face an ¡­ and help him get rid of the extra heat!" Now everyone had a shocked expression, Sarah woke up Early? Is she sick?


    "But, when I entered the carriage, all that was waiting from me was a monstrous thing with its horns stuck in the ceiling!"


    Looking back at Roland, his impassive face broke into one of uncertainty and even a bit of fear, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. Unfortunately for him, his daughters caught that tiny slip. They looked at their father with a great deal of fear. If something can make their father afraid, then they were nothing but sheep in a slaughterhouse.


    "Let us go, Roland. Maybe we can buy some time, or we can catch him disoriented by his sudden change in build and force him unconscious. We can at least prepare a better welcome." Looking back at his daughters, he noticed their confused expressions, to relieve them he merely patted them on the shoulder and assured them that everything would turn out alright.


    Turning around, he motions his head towards the carriage. With him came the guard captain and Roland. As they entered, they found what they feared would be waiting for them.


    "A damned Raug! It''s a Raug!" Whispered the guard captain to the general,


    "Yes, yes it is¡­" Finding that the Raug was looking at nothing with glazed eyes, Harold gestured to Roland to knock him unconscious.


    Roland gathered as much mana at the knob of his staff. After he had enough mana, he swung his it with as much power as he could at the head of the Raug; doing his best not to hit the horns lest they distribute the hit and keep him conscious.


    Thump!


    "Guard Captain, get a few guards and carry him to a larger carriage. Make sure to decorate it with luxury. We do not want a mad Raug on our hands." Harold ordered the guard captain,


    He then left with Roland back towards the old healer''s pavilion. As they pushed the tent flap open, they found his daughters waiting for them. They both took seats near the girls knowing they had some explaining to do.


    "Father, what is the meaning of this? What was that? I¡­ Is the crazy man okay?" Sarah asked,


    "Sarah, slow down. That man is perfectly fine." Noticing his daughters skepticism, he continues


    "That is because he was what you saw."


    Find nothing more than confusion, Harold looks back towards his friend for help. Only to find him shrugging his shoulders helplessly and motioning him to continue.


    "You see" Clearing his throat; he prepared to tell them the true story of the Battle of Venral.


    <hr>


    Pain¡­


    That was my existence for the past month. Other than that lively discussion with that ox person, everything was extremely blurry. Grass and more grass was the highlight of everything else.


    Now, I wake up to find myself in a bare carriage with a thin blanket on me. Though it was quite large at three meters wide and five long. Other than a shelf filled with a plethora of plants, there was nothing else here. The only silver lining of this all is that I feel no more pain. Just a weird soreness in all my muscles.


    Groaning, he tried to sit up but found it quite tricky. It was as if he had gained 200 pounds of extra muscle. After a great deal of grunting and pushing with his hands, he finally sat up only to feel his horns get stuck on the carriage ceiling.


    ''I swear these horns will be the death of me¡­ wait¡­ Horns?''


    Touching his head, he felt the rough texture of his horns. Running his fingers on their elegant swirls, he sighed in relief,


    ''At least I am not an elf anymore! A demon is still pretty low on the list though.''


    As he traced the swirls of his horns, the carriage door suddenly opens with a creak. In came a lady with enormous breasts and a voluptuous body. She wore an intricate dress that made him dizzy just trying to find out how it worked. In her hands, she carried with her a bucket of what seemed to be water and a few towels. Placing them near the door, she looked up only to freeze like a deer caught by the headlights of a car.


    For what were the longest seconds of his life, they continued to stare at each other, until the lady started to scream in a shrill voice "DEMON!!!". Running out of the carriage she started to throw a Fireball at him. Covering his face from the fire, he exclaimed,


    "What the Hell is going on!" Just for those damnable screens to pop up! Again!


    System -


    The Curse of Ragual ¨C Blessing of Astra Cost ¨C 9,485


    The transformation has been completed. Through pain and suffering, you have become one of the Raug! A nation of warrior-mages renowned for their unmatched might. Rejoice, unlike your people, you are free! Value your freedom, for your Kin are all enslaved by the DragonKin! -


    As he read the notification, in the native language of the Seven duchies, a sudden spike of what he could only call as energy appeared behind him. But as he tried to turn around to see what it was, his face met the knob of an energized battle staff. The last thing he heard was a deep voice telling someone to carry him somewhere before darkness overtook him.

 Ch 8 | The Battle of Venral

    7 YEARS AGO ¨C VEYER 44, 3904


    VENRAL ¨C CITY CONQUERED BY THE DARK ORC HORDES


    Battle of Venral ¨C


    General Harold Winsten is one of the greatest strategists and commanders in the history Seven Duchies. On that most horrible day, my counterparts and I learned that undeniable truth. Facing an army almost ten times as large as ours, his tactics proved to make the odds much more bearable. Hope was lost during the Hordes first charge at our lines. Their numbers seemed endless as we gazed upon that sea of dark brown and green bodies thunder towards us. Yet, through a single maneuver, our lines held strongly 10 to 1.


    If you overlook his brutish language and his tendency to swear at every moment, he would be considered the greatest role model one such as I can follow. Unfortunately, after learning about the pettiness of the Royal Family during that battle, he would not teach anyone and even made his goal to retire as clear as daylight. It is a shame one such as him, a national treasure can be treated so horribly based on the whims of a child.


    Commander Teven Awrk Estreius, Of the Falen Duchy


    POV ¨C General Harold Winsten


    "Today GLORY will be ours! We will return home Victors!" Screamed an over-enthusiastic commander with all his being.


    It would have been wonderful for morale to have someone so outspoken and loud speak to the army, but when you are in a large tent with him it can be... quite bothersome.


    He looked at Roland, who was sitting to his right in front of the enormous map of the city of Venral and its surroundings, only receiving a patient smile and a nod.


    Sighing, Harold was beyond irritated,


    ''Why does this glory hound always have to be first when I call for a meeting? Glory this, Glory that, Victory this, Victory that! The Aistarealways loud ...''


    Sitting in front of Harold was Aden, a man of extreme build... He was as tall as a Dwarf! Even as bulky as one. If not for his pure lineage, one would think he was one. Then again when do you find a Dwarf that can''t drink to save his life? It was the only way to get him to be quiet. Just get a servant to keep refilling his cup with wine or ale. After two cups he usually would be dead asleep.


    ''Two cups! My daughters can drink more than this fool! Then again, they are both quite the handful.''


    Laughing at memories of better times, the other commanders finally walked in.


    First came in the youngest commander in the history of the Seven Duchies. If not for his excellent mind, Harold would have kicked him out of the army; consequences be damned. Teven Awrk Estreius was only 23 years old! The youngest commander after him was 47.


    ''Those Falens have been growing strong these last few decades. Nurtured through extreme conditions in that most unholy forest of theirs. What convinced them to send their noble children into that Soldier''s Blackhole is beyond me.''


    Teven had a lean build and sported the Falen traditional soldier''s cut. The hair on the sides of their heads was cut entirely off while everything on top was grown then tied into a long braid. His sharp eyes and perpetual smirk were that of a calculating individual.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Making a mental note to himself, Harold''s eyes sharpened.


    ''I cannot underestimate this child. His eyes speak greatly of his capabilities.''


    The second man was someone the general hoped to forget. Malif Earl was a cowardly man. A disgrace to the Orbeian Duchy and himself. Time and time again he proved to want to run away or hide behind his soldier instead of facing his enemies.


    ''Ugh, how will I live after the shame this man has brought on such an important occasion? At least the other two have redeeming qualities that make them some of the best. All this man can do is soak up hits for true warriors to counter.''


    Malif was a fat and tall man that wore full plate everywhere he went. He was of the belief that even during your sleep, a stray arrow can still find you. Everyone in this tent wondered if he slept with his armor on.


    As they walked in, an enormous grin blossomed on Teven''s face as he caught a glimpse of the general''s distaste towards Aden before it turned to that practiced straight expression.


    Teven commented,


    "It seems that Aden here is being his usual self." Laughing at Aden''s sudden change into anger he continued, "My, aren''t the people of Aist so obnoxious."


    Fuming Aden jumped to his feet and pointed menacingly at Teven while screaming,


    "Watch your words, Child! Or I will teach you what your parents did not!"


    As Teven began to retort, the general''s patience had thinned, with an authoritative voice he commanded,


    "Enough! We are not here to bicker like children. We move onto Venral in 3 days. Be seated and give your reports to Roland and begin with the debriefing."


    After giving their reports in, they began listing everything the general wanted from them in extreme detail.


    The three commanders were sent by the surrounding duchies as a symbol of unity. All three had sent 10,000 men each. Including the Generals 40,000 and the Mage Corps of 800. They were a force to be reckoned with.


    Of all the general''s greatest hopes, was that they did not include politics into this most pivotal battle. Yet, the promised soldiers of the Royal Duchy were not sent. In their stead came the 5th son of the Royal family (Laviths) and with him 55 Raug battle slaves given by the Dragonian Empire for a large shipment of pleasure slaves and servants. It seemed that the Raug cannot be tamed to fill those roles; only used for entertainment in colosseums and war.


    But the general did not believe all the myths concerning the Raug and their battle prowess. To him, another ten thousand soldiers were more capable than any 55, no matter their race. So... he lost his temper and got into a yelling competition with the 5th son.


    It did not end well.


    Now he was nowhere to be found, and only a messenger was sent to convey his most ''sincere'' apologies for not being able to show up.


    ''Not showing up on this DAY!''


    He fumed,


    ''We are meant to plan this attack with him as a representative of the Royal Duchy! Where is the unity they speak of to the masses!''


    Noticing his anger, Roland put a calming hand on his friend''s shoulder and whispered to him so the others cannot hear,


    "Be calm, Harold. This anger does not suit you. The 5th son and his 55 soldiers will not truly impact the battle, so forget him for now. We have bigger fish to catch. And once we win this battle without his aid, you can finally forcethe Royal''shand in giving you that fertile land within their borders."


    "Thank you, Roland. Now ..."


    After calming down, the general looked towards the map and found himself lost in all the possibilities and probabilities of this battle. While the Opening of the Venral Mountains to the west was the prime place for the Dark Orcs to receive reinforcements from farther towards the sea, the general kept looking towards the Welen Pass towards the east. Thought to be unpassable, the pass was a death trap to any human soldier that passed.


    The key word here was ''Human.''


    The Dark Orcs were an unforgiving race. Forcing their soldiers into the most impossible of situations just for the smallest advantage. It was how he kept winning all his battles against them; they were unpredictably predictable. He expected them to send over fifty thousand soldiers through that pass and only ten towards the Opening. From those that enter the pass, only five thousand should survive. So, he planned to send six thousand towards the Opening with the Aist soldiers and five thousand men with the Falen soldiers towards the pass. Each supported by a Mage Corp of two hundred mages, while twenty-four thousand men would surround the city. As for the reserves, he would keep the Orbes soldiers and five thousand of his men in case of any unexpected situation.


    Looking back at his commanders with a smile, he told them his battle plan.

 Ch 9 | The First Clash

    POV General Harold Winsten


    It has been fourteen days since we laid siege to Venral. All paths have been blocked, waterways either filled with stone and sand or poisoned, and our men stood ready with high morale. Standing on a raised platform of guarded stone, I looked upon one of the mightiest defensive fortifications in the south-east of our mighty nation towards the sea; only comparable to the seven capitals of the Duchies and the Royal capital itself. Until the Dark orcs conquered it by sending waves after endless waves at it, it had been thought impenetrable. Yet, here I stand, on the cusp of victory!


    This battle shall put me onto the annals of history as one of the greatest generals of the Seven Duchies; second only to the Great General Markus Mestral the Second! My name shall be chanted endlessly as my army, and I walk back to the royal capital victorious!


    ''And I will have that piece of damned land!''


    As he general mused of victory and the thousands of people chanting his name, he noticed movement to his right. Turning he saw his best friend walking towards him with a giant smile.


    "Dreaming of victory before the end, I see. Was it not you that kept quoting the Great General''s book ''War: The Art.'' I hope you have not forgotten them." Hearing this the general eyes widen at the accusation. To him, the Great General''s book was a holy text. But, what he did miss was the widening of Roland''s smile until it was enormous and unbearable.


    "What! Never! I would never forget those teachings! You know how important they are to¡­" Finally taking in Roland''s grin, he sighed then broke into a chuckle, then to full out laughter.


    "You always know how to read me, Roland. It can be quite disconcerting knowing that you always know what I am thinking."


    Roland suddenly turns towards the stairs situated towards the general''s back, turning to look at what caught his friends interest, the general found a messenger that seems to have run days on end from the way he was panting.


    "General! General! Dire news! It is most horrible news! Fifteen thousand Orcs are coming out of the Opening to the northwest of us!"


    The general looked at him oddly,


    ''Dire news? It is just like I expected, fifteen with come through the opening and only five out of the pass...''


    But, before the general could finish his thought, the messenger took a deep breath and told him what the bad news truly was,


    "General, that is not the bad news. Thousands of Dark Orcs are coming out of the path, and we are still counting! Sixty Thousand was the last count!!!"


    Eyes widening in surprise the general turned towards the pass in the east; he could barely see anything from this distance. Taking all possibilities in a matter of seconds, the general commands,


    "Soldier! Send three messengers to all the main camps! Including the Raug. Let them know of the situation and tell them I am mobilizing a full retreat towards the hills south of our location. The mage corps are to make a cover for us to retreat and position ourselves in a defensive Phalanx with the mages in the back, cavalry split into two for flanking motions around the hill! Hurry! Hurry!"


    Sixty thousand and still counting? They must have sent a thousand thousand soldiers into that most treacherous pass!


    Turning back towards Roland, he exclaims,


    "Old friend, your advice is as sound as ever. In my time of most need, you stand tall and mighty. Anything you need, or ever desire, let me know, and I will find it even if I must rummage through the Isles of Night themselves!" Extending his hand towards his friend in a sign of brotherhood, Roland graciously accepts and meets him halfway. Locking eyes, Roland retorts with his signature smile,


    "If we survive this day, Harold. If we survive¡­"


    It took about three hours to finally get over seventy thousand men who were in perfect formation, drilled into them by countless hours of the most spartan training possible, to move without panic and into the formation. Due to the constraint of time and Orcish pressure, much of the resources they had taken with them were left behind; the soldiers were only allowed to take what they could carry themselves. It would make the trip back towards the nearest city a logistical Nightmare!


    If not for the skilled Mages covering their retreat, it would have been a bloody affair. They created three screens of scorching sand that incapacitated over six hundred of the eight hundred mages. One towards the Opening, the second towards the pass, and the third in front of Venral; just out of the cities magical defenses.


    Other than over seventy thousand Orcs that were reported of that came as reinforcements, their numbers were not known, but we do know from previous reports that there was roughly fifty-seven thousand within the city itself. Without holding our last position, where we could use the gates as a killing zone if they tried to force their way out, the orcs in the city finally exited its defenses to meet us on the field. They not only have more significant numbers, but their greatest advantage was in size. Though not as large as their green or blue counterparts, compared to an average human they were still substantial. Their average stood around 6''6" while a human''s average height was roughly 5''11". Without extreme measures, their first charge will break our lines and stampede over us.Stolen story; please report.


    Taking this into consideration, I had the soldiers position themselves on top of a large hill, with a cavalry group ready to ride right down the middle to break the charge and maybe give us a chance to survive. As the first cavalry escapes through the right, we will time a charge coming around the left to break their morale. Hopefully, we can get a third charge if the first cavalry can get around the hill without too many deaths.


    "W.. We should Run from this death trap!" Malif suddenly exclaimed,


    "Our lives are worth more than those soldiers! We are commanders and generals! Use them as a decoy as we make a break for it! Please General!" Malif looked terrified and with good reason, but the commanders and general all looked at him with disgust.


    "If you attempt such a thing I WILL SLAY YOU WERE YOU STAND COWARD!" Screamed Aden with absolute fury


    Malif could not stand the insanity that surrounded him. Who is crazy enough to not only fight an army almost double their numbers but one of Dark Orcs!


    "Hold your silence forever, Malif. You have shamed Orbes and me greatly today." Turning away from him, the General looked towards the sand screens as he thought about what happened to the 5th prince and his Raug. When the news broke of the endless numbers of Orcs spewing from the pass, it was reported to him that the camp south of him holding the Raug had suddenly moved towards the pass. Since then, he did not hear a word from the 5th prince.


    ''At least he didn''t run away like a coward. Even if he got himself killed by his delusions.''


    After half an hour, the sands started to disperse. Letting all those present see what awaited them on the other side.


    A sudden murmur of prayers started within the lines of the soldiers of all camps until it reached the general himself.


    "I pray to all gods listening, Give us strength! Give us courage! Erase the fear of death from our souls for this day! And let the soldiers ''preserver''! For what stands before us now is death."


    Standing in front of them was not something they could have conceived. There they stood, an ocean of dark brown and green¡­


    Endless¡­


    The general knew there was no hope of surviving this. And so did all the soldiers. The time to run away had passed them.


    Looking towards his soldiers, their fear-stricken faces were unbearable to him. He chose to speak with strength. Hoping his words gives them courage on this most horrible day,


    "Soldiers! We stand here together! Brothers, Fathers, and friends! We will stand here strong and persevere! We will make them BLEED! For every inch they take, we will kill thousands! For every life they kill, we will take thousands more! For every widow and orphan they make WE. WILL. KILL. THOUSANDS!"


    This speech will be carried on by the survivors to all major cities in the Seven Duchies. Dubbing it as ''The Thousand,'' it was made into plays for all to see the courage and valor of General Harold Winsten in this most trying time.


    Not knowing the significance of his words other than raising morale, he turned towards his commanders,


    "Send a messenger to the second cavalry. There will be no second charge. No, only one major charge through the center to break them against our lines. Commanders pull your soldiers into a circle to defend against their overwhelming numbers. We cannot allow them to enter our ranks! The only space is for the cavalry to gain momentum from the back line to hit the front line. Once they pass, close the lines while they circle around and support the formation. Go to your camps and lead your men. They will need you there more."


    All the commanders nod at the general''s words and left towards their camps to prepare for the Orcs. They each held the same expression; Determination.


    "Harold" Roland called out after they left, "May we meet in our future lives. For we are connected as soul brothers."


    Looking at his friend, the general''s fa?ade broke away. In its place stood an old man tired instead of the General worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as the Great General Himself.


    "I am afraid for my daughters, Roland. What will they do without me? Th¡­ They don''t even know where I stashed all the gold I saved up to retire in the countryside inside the royal borders." Putting his head in his hands, the general shakes his head in sorrow.


    Roland put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushes him roughly,


    "Where is the man I respect, Harold! Where is the man that looked a Dragon in the eye and laughed! Get yourself together; we have a battle to win. Gather the broken remains of your confidence and stitch them back together. Those men out there need you, General! We can deal with everything else later."


    As Roland and the general stare at each other for a few seconds, a horn blared in the far distance. Drums began beating, and the pounding feet of the Orcish Hordes rumbled as they finally charged at the human lines.


    The general grabbed his helm and put it on. Running out of his tent, he prepared with his guards as they put all their hopes of survival, no matter how slim, on the front lines holding for the first charge. Unsheathing his sword and picking up his tower shield, he heard the deafening rumble of the cavalry as they sped through the back lines and into the space allotted for them; hitting the Orcish charge head-on. As they crashed on to the Orcs, the cavalry quickly split in two and made their way towards the left and right. In that one clash, thousands of Orcs where crushed either by the full weight of a barded horse, the weapons carried by their riders, or their own troops as they pushed on, stomping them to death. After what felt like ages, but was not even a full five minutes, the cavalry finally got away. Leaving the hordes open to finish their charge. Straining, the frontline pushed their shields together and picked up their swords while the line behind them prepared their swords and spears to support the soldiers in front of them at a range.


    Suddenly, the remaining two hundred mage corps and archers released a volley that decimated the hordes slowed down the charge. Only able to release two volleys, the mages and archers start targeting farther into the throng of orcs to thin out their numbers before they reach.


    Finally, the horde reached the front lines. Using all they had the orcs attempted to break through and separate their enemy. As the general watched, the line buckled and was starting to get pushed back. The strain on the soldiers was evident as you heard their shouts of full effort. But ¡­


    They Held! The lines did not break!


    The general was ecstatic with the result and started laughing at the hope that was dangled in front of them like a prized boar.


    Yet, now the hard and gritty part truly began. The monotonous and rhythmic dance of death has just truly started.


    Still, after all that has happened, the general kept on wondering where the 5th prince and his Raug were.


    It would have been wonderful to have them on the front line with their massive size. They could have made amazing vanguards.

 Ch 10 | The Raugs

    Survivor- Soldier''s Journal


    Mastes 13, 3904


    It took a while for the screens of sand to clear.


    A while for us to see what stood ready on the other side.


    We knew the General was one of the greatest tacticians in our generation. That it would need an army many folds greater than what he had to challenge him truly.


    But once the sand cleared, it was readily apparent that a miracle must take place for us to see the light of tomorrow.


    To see our wives ¡­ our children ¡­ our family.


    I, Helis Maltorn, gazed upon a vast ocean of Dark Orcs; reaching beyond the visible horizon. Ready to claim our lives. Their hunger and bloodthirst, we felt it even across the vast space separating us.


    I prayed, on that day, like never before. I was not a religious man. No, I did not pray when my wife gave birth to my only child. I did not pray on the day they both died to the first Dark Orc raid thirteen years ago. I had lost my belief in the gods and their power, for they abandoned me in my darkest time before meeting my light; before meeting my wife.


    But, on this day, when my hands shook with fear at the horde before us, I closed my eyes and raised my hands the heavens.


    I begged for strength and perseverance against this tide of hate and misery. Our deaths were imminent, and so were the lives of our country folk. Hope had escaped me then.


    Until I heard the generals booming voice; commanding us to stand firm. Gathering the hope that had fled us and forcing it back into our broken souls.


    "Soldiers! We stand here together! Brothers, Fathers, and friends! We will stand here strong and persevere! We will make them BLEED! For every inch they take, we will kill thousands! For every life they kill, we will take thousands more! For every widow and orphan they make! WE WILL KILL THOUSANDS!" He screamed with vigor and absolute confidence that we would make it out today alive.


    I looked back at the tide that prepared to charge; eyes hardened, muscles tensed, and mentally prepared to fight like never before.


    Their drums began a rhythmic beating. Their feet pounding on the ground like a mystical song. They roared in triumph heard. They saw us as nothing but a tiny obstacle in their path to our people.


    Yet, instead of fear, we showed courage. Instead of stepping back in cowardice, we stepped forward in bravery. Our lines tightened as we waited for the cavalry to charge the center of their wedged formation so that we can close the gap.


    Closer and closer they got, as we waited for the lines first clash. We then heard the signal for the cavalry to charge, we prepared our shields, spears, and swords.


    Once the barded horses hit their charging foes, they split and worked their way to the right and left as our ranged units released their prepared volleys.


    Closing the gap in time to take the orcs head-on, we were forced back step by step as they tried their best to break our lines. But with fury in our eyes and incoherent screams escaping our mouths, we held steady as we killed them like the pests they are!


    Thousands had died before they finally breached the first line only to be met with swinging swords and bashing shields to replace those that had died.


    Each of us falling into a rhythm of death as we fought for an undeterminable amount of time. We struggled with everything we had, yet my fellow soldiers fell one by one until there were only a few of us from the front still alive. Finding a moment to breathe I looked around only to find myself and others fighting alongside the general and his guards themselves!


    And by the gods was he a menace to those that stood in front of him. A force of nature was what I thought at the time. The only other person fighting like him was what appeared to be a frail old man wielding a staff longer than he was. Having no more time to think, I parried a massive greatsword swung by a large Dark Orc with my shield only to riposte with my sword. Stabbing into the space between his breastplate and pauldron causing him to scream out in pain. Pulling out my sword from his shoulder with a grunt, blood spewed out, spraying me. Knowing that he would die in a few moments from the loss of blood, I moved on to meet my next victim.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It had been hours before that miracle happened, many of us lost all hope in surviving. Our only motivation to keep going was to kill as many as possible before we died. But, no matter how many we killed they kept on coming without end.


    We fought bravely, yet our bravery was not enough. For only a tenth of us are still alive.


    Suddenly, we all felt fear''s cold hands grip our hearts. Human and Dark Orc alike froze; trembling as the control of our bodies escaped us. The only ones who had any resemblance of it were the General, the wizen old man, and the two Dark Orcs they faced. Even they can be seen trembling.


    Multiple roars, that shook the air, sounded out from far towards the northeast. As we stared for what seemed like the longest time ever, fifty-five bodies can be seen charging towards the Orcish rearguard. They turned to face the incoming threat; only to be run over as hundreds of stone spikes shot out of the ground; each finding a body to hit. Then fire came. A tornado that consumed anything that stood in its path; leaving only scorch marks behind there fury.


    As their lines broke, all the orcs turned and charged at this new enemy. Only to be met with the enormous bodies of thirty Raug as they swung their massive weapons killing all who stand in their way. Spaced out to give themselves enough space to not hinder each other, they waded through the Orcish Horde. Making it obvious that such paltry efforts were not enough to break through.


    Magic of all elements cast by the remaining Raug flew killing hundreds as they each landed. In a matter of minutes, the orcs were defeated, as their commander signaled a full retreat, sacrificing thousands to keep the Raug busy as they made their escape.


    All the while we stood dumbfounded by what we saw, as none of us had ever seen such power. Only myths referring to the higher races had ever been this exaggerated. Yet, here it was before us.


    A cheer began by some of the surviving soldiers. Their hope had not been a lie. Their General had lived up to his words! They had faced an army many folds greater than themselves and survived! To me, something felt wrong. Where were the Raug before the battle started? If they were so powerful why had they not killed enough to make this a fairer battle in the beginning? Why did they not intervene when thousands of us were dying? Looking back at the General, I noticed he wore an unreadable expression as he gathered his guard and his commanders. They moved towards the Raug and their master the 5th prince with a purpose that did not fit the scene of victory painted by blood.


    <hr>


    POV Change ¨C Mythes Laviths the 5th Prince


    "That bastard! Son of a ¡­" The 5th prince continued his tirade after the battle.


    He had wanted the General to die on the battlefield for the insult he had given him.


    He, a Middle Noble, dared not only to argue with a Prince! But shouted and disrespected him in front of thousands of soldiers as well! If he were not in the field of battle, he would have been executed for this!


    After the news of thousands of orcs spewing from the pass came to him, he moved his camp towards the east and away from the rest of the army. Planning to watch as the General and his army were overrun and killed to the last man. Only returning to his father to tell him the sad news, of General Harold Winsten dying on the field of battle. Somehow, he had survived after hours of combat. At the very end, it even looked as if he was going to win the battle forcing the 5th prince''s hand in helping. Fearing he would be seen as a traitor by the soldiers and the General, he sent his Raug into battle so his father cannot blame him for the loss of thousands of peasants and commoners.


    "Dishonorable, petty, and selfish. You are worthless in the eyes of the Raug." Called out a massive Raug. Named Vezesal, he was the leader of the battle slaves. Larger than the rest he sported hauberk that covered his torso and legs coming to his knees similar to a robe. Under that, he wore dark leather armor and metal sabatons. With a multitude of scars and a broken tusk, he looked as scary as the myths depicted of his kind.


    If it were not for his father''s warning of not mistreating them, lest they rip him apart, he would have whipped this one for the insult. Instead, he gulped then glared at the Raug.


    As he turned back to his musing, he noticed the General and his Commanders moving towards him with dark faces. Knowing he would not survive the day if he did not find a lie or a political interest in his actions, he came up with his plan.


    As they neared, the general shouted with all his being,


    "Where have you been?! Thousands of good men died today because you did not battle. Your dishonor will be your demise, you filthy child!"


    Taking the role of the aloof prince, he smirked. With as much arrogance as he could muster, he said,


    "Watch your tongue and remember your place, General. A middle noble, no matter his accolades should never speak to royalty in such a way." Using the royal we to refer to himself, he continued "We have our reasons for the actions we have taken. I suggest you control yourself lest you anger us." Tilting his head to the side to show that they were nothing to him, he noticed the fury the general exuded. He waited for the perfect moment to bring out his lie.


    "Oh, pray tell, why the royal you would not show himself and his Raug until the end of the battle effectively killing tens of thousands of men." Sarcasm dripped from the general''s voice like poison only to be met with the unchanging aloof smile the prince had.


    "We have decided to put you in your place by my royal father''s demand, General. To show you that no matter what you achieve or what accolade you gain, you will always be a middle noble and nothing more. You will always be under the mercy of the Royals and the High Nobles. What your united army from three different duchies achieved in hours of battle, we can do in minutes using only a tiny fraction of soldiers."


    Getting up, the prince signals to his servants and the Raug as he turned around and walked away leaving a stunned general in their wake.

 Ch 11 | What?

    ''Ding''


    "Ugh ¡­ My head" Head throbbing and eyes closed shut; he tried to drown out all sounds to get more rest. Yet, those damnable screens kept waking him up. Demanding his attention.


    ''Ding''


    ''That infernal sound won''t be quiet! Constantly badgering me for the past hour.''


    Opening his eyes, he finds those horrible screens that were making all this noise. His head was throbbing from the pain. He could not fathom why. While the constant noise just made everything worse.


    It felt like someone was screaming in his ears! Making his skull crack from the pain.


    System -


    Modification ¨C


    The Curse of Ragual ¨C Blessing of Astra


    Attributes Gained ¨C Racial Boost


    Strength ¨C 35 + 35


    Endurance ¨C 30 + 10


    Constitution ¨C 20 + 15


    Intelligence ¨C 23 + 35


    Wisdom ¨C 27 + 25


    Charisma ¨C 20 + 5


    Finally reading the screen, he exclaims in surprise,


    "Woah¡­ I am strong! Now I can start my plan to subjugate the entire world!" Laughing madly, he tries to get up from the floor¡­ only to slip and hit his head on the corner of a drawer.


    ''Thump''


    "Ugh, that hurt!" Looking up at the culprit of his recent pain, which was only visible due to the candles and torches set around his tent, he noticed a black drawer made of wood. It would have been an amazing piece of furniture if the corner was not destroyed where his horns hit as he fell.


    Sitting up, he noticed that he was in a rather large and luxurious tent, very unlike what he was in previously,


    ''What did they call them? Ah! Yes, pavilions.''


    Looking around he saw that he actually had a bed made of what seemed to be feathers. It was covered with thick blankets of red and white to make it feel softer and more comfortable.


    ''Guess I fell off while sleeping because I did not wake up to the softness of these blankets, rather the hard floor.''


    He also noticed that there was a set of clothes neatly folded up on the drawer he destroyed. As he looked closer, he saw that they were actually the clothes the goddess had given him in that potato sack.


    ''Wasn''t I wearing them?''


    Looking down he noticed something that was glaringly obvious; he was stark naked. While he was putting on the clothes, he opened the top drawer and found his coins and the shiny electrifying rock as well. As he finished dressing and putting everything that was his into the pockets, the screens popped up again. This time it was something that made him in a much happier mood.


    ''Ding''


    System -


    Modifications ¨C


    The Curse of Ragual ¨C Blessing of Astra -


    Affinities ¨C Earth ¨C Great AffinityIf you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    You will receive two random affinities ¨C Racial trait -


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Random Affinity 1 ¨C Fire ¨C Natural -


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Random Affinity 2 ¨C Darkness ¨C Strong -


    Eyes sparkling, he laid back down on the floor and spread his hands out as he began imagining all the things he can do with Magic!


    After half an hour of daydreaming, he decided that he needed to check out his surroundings. He needed to learn where he was, where the closest city was located, and most importantly, where can he get some Food!


    ''Grumble''


    Patting his aching stomach, he tried to stand up again on his wobbly legs. Unaccustomed to walking with such large and powerful legs, he stumbles towards the tent flap. Falling out, he was met with the surprised yells of two guards standing in front of his tent. They both wore a matching set of white armor with an insignia of a lion roaring in a shield on the center of their breastplates, almost completely covering it up. He could only see them due to the many campfires that were placed all around the camp. But, what caught his attention the most about them was the fact that they were pointing at him with what appeared to be extremely ''sharp'' and ornate spears. The spears each had a large gem right where the spearhead connected with the shaft, which started to glow when they got into an aggressive stance.


    "Hi?" He tried to break the tension, but by the way, the guards started to grip their spears even harder, he utterly failed. Smiling as widely as possible to seem trustworthy, he says, "Umm¡­ Can I get some food? I am quite hungry."


    The guards stepped back as they saw a wicked smile spreading across his face instead of the disarming one he attempted.


    One of the guards gathered their courage and stuttered,


    "Th¡­The G..General will want to meet y..you."


    Looking at them sheepishly he exclaims,


    "Well, there is a problem ¡­"


    "A problem?" The second guard asked,


    Smiling bashfully, he continues,


    "Yes, as you can see, I am on the ground ¡­ and I don''t seem to be able to control my body, just yet, fully¡­"


    <hr>


    Harold and his family were sitting together with Ronald at the center of the camp. They were talking as they eagerly waited for the chef to finish cooking. For the past hour, they were teased with a plethora of amazing smells reaching them from a few tents down where the chef was stationed.


    The chef was a beastkin slave of a feline variety the general did not recognize. He had been with the Winsten family for over thirty years. Earning a name, something considered an honor for any slave, due to his skills in the kitchen and the General''s first daughter''s love of food. They called him Aifen.


    Serving loyally, Harold decided that he would take him with the other slaves and servants when he left his noble home in the duchies capital due to the constant politicking of his close family. Always striving to strip him of his title as a middle noble due to some perceived insult.


    "Finally!" Lana exclaimed as she can be seen drooling at the sight of the multiple platers that Aifen and his apprentices carried towards them. Each one was filled to the brim with a different type of food. One by one they were placed around a large table.


    "This course might not be as good as I usually make them because of the lack of a true kitchen to cook with. My sincerest apologies, Lady Lana" Aifen says as he bows down with a straight back, waiting to be allowed to rise.


    With an enormous smile, Lana waves his concern away,


    "You will never disappoint, Aifen! Your cooking is always the best!"


    Harold smiled at the only time his stoic daughter ever truly showed emotions ever since his wife had died so many years ago. It reminded her of the times she had with her mother and the food she used to make occasionally. His wife was the one that took Aifen in and taught him how to cook, showing him everything she knew before leaving all courses of food to him.


    Suddenly, a considerable commotion can be heard farther out in the camp. Turning around in his seat, he finds the one situation he had hoped would not happen. He looks on as two guards were pulling, what seemed to be an unconscious Raug with his head hanging down, towards him. While behind them was the Guard Captain walking with a pale face and his hand gripping the pommel of his sword.


    Without warning, the Raug looks up with open eyes.


    Red eyes that seemed to glow took everything and everyone in with a brief look. Judging them and finding them all inadequate.


    The tension made them feel as if they were walking in water until it was all broken when the Raug started to clear his throat, slowly speaking he says,


    "Everyone needs to calm down¡­ I am not a demon! I just... look like¡­ one?" Laughing uncertainly, the Raug tried to shrug his shoulders.


    Harold looked towards Roland who already had his battle staff with him and ready in a defensive stance. On the other hand, both his daughters were stuck in their spots afraid to move.


    "Wait a minute!" The Raug screamed startling everyone around him, "I know you!", he pushed away from the two guards as he stood on wobbly legs and pointed at Sarah, "You''re the lady that kept throwing those fireballs at me!"


    Slowly a wicked smile began to form on his face as he attempted to walk towards Sarah with his wobbly feet, without thinking Harold unsheathed his sword and got into an aggressive stance ready to strike at any moment to defend his daughter.


    But, unlike what he thought was going to happen, the Raug suddenly got on one knee and looked hopeful towards Sarah, finally exclaiming "Can¡­Can you teach me!" His sudden statement made everyone watching utterly confused.


    Sarah looked at him incredulously, not knowing what was going on, as she finally gathers her thoughts, the first thing that comes out of her mouth was¡­


    "What?"

 Ch 12 | No Magic?

    After giving a long-winded explanation of his situation to the two guards, he somehow convinced them to drag him towards the General; whoever that is. Yet, the entire time they pulled him by his shoulders, they were grunting and huffing in strain.


    ''Ahh! They are making me look bad! I am not that heavy! Everyone is staring at us!''


    Hanging his head in embarrassment, they moved closer to the center of the campsite. More and more guards wearing the same armor started to follow them. Each murmuring with varying levels of emotion. Of them all, a single person with similar armor but with two golden lines running vertically down his right pauldron, signifying a higher station, showed the most. Shock and what he could only consider as fear appeared prominently on the man''s face.


    ''He is as pale as a ghost! I hope he is okay¡­''


    As he continued his inner thoughts, the guards pulling him came to a sudden stop. Forced out of his reverie so abruptly, he looked up to assess his surroundings. To he absolute joy, in front of him was a table filled with Food!


    ''There is so much on the table! They must have prepared this for me! How generous! I must thank this ''General'' person.''


    After a few seconds of staring intently at the food laid out, he finally noticed five people were standing around the table. The first standing away from the table, with what seemed to be a chef''s attire and hat was a feline beastkin that looked similar to a sphinx cat.


    Well, more like a tiger than a cat really¡­


    Standing the tallest between them all at the table, she had a considerable frown. It seemed as if he had interrupted something important.


    But, that did not matter. What did was that they were all on guard. The tension was palpable!


    ''I need to diffuse this situation. Can''t let them keep thinking I am a demon!''


    Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath,


    "Everyone needs to calm down¡­ I am not a demon! I just... look like¡­ one?" Laughing uncertainly, he tried to shrug his shoulders, though it was quite difficult in his position.


    ''Damn! That came out wrong! Now they definitely think I am a Demon!''


    As he continued laughing, he noticed the man at the head of the table began to look around towards his left.


    "Wait a minute!" Startling everyone in the vicinity, he finally remembered where he saw the brown-haired woman, he pushed away from the guards and stood. Not fully used to his body, his legs wobbled.


    ''It''s the Pyromaniac! She kept throwing those fireballs at me!''


    Pointing at her with certainty, he exclaimed,


    "I know you!"


    Taking a step forward, an enormous grin spread across his face,


    "You''re the lady that kept throwing those fireballs at me!"


    That statement caused a whole string of movements from the guards behind him and the man at the head of the table. The ringing of swords being unsheathed was heard all over the camp, while the man in front stepped forward and got into a well-practiced and very aggressive stance. But, the Raug had different plans altogether.


    ''She knows Magic! Fire Magic!''


    Falling to his left knee, at a kneeling position, his eyes began to shine with hope and expectation.


    After what seemed to be the longest few seconds they all lived through, he finally exclaimed,


    "Can¡­ Can you teach me!"


    Looking caught off guard, the lady exclaimed in surprise,


    "What?"


    But before she could continue, the man at the head of the table interrupted with a voice full of authority,


    "No," said the man.


    Looking at him with a crushed hope, he started to complain,


    "Why not? She should pay me back for throwing Fireball after Fireball at me when I had just woken up."


    Sighing he looked towards the Pyromaniac and frowned while she seemed to try to become as small as possible,


    "She cannot because it is not allowed. We do not have the authority to teach you standardized magic. Only the Mages Guild and The Academy have that right."


    "Standardized magic? What is that supposed to mean?" Asked the Raug,


    Surprised at the lack of knowledge, Harold looks towards Roland with an eyebrow raised. Getting confirmation from his old friend in the form of a nod, he continued,


    "Well, this will take time. Aifen! Get our Friend a chair. Please, will you join us for dinner?"


    Laughing boisterously, he exclaims,


    "I thought you would never ask!"


    <hr>After the awkward situation, the man at the head of the table introduced himself and everyone else. He turned out to be the ''General'' person that wanted to talk to me. While his actual name was Harold, although everyone called him the ''General.'' The two ladies at the table where his daughters, Lana and Sarah; Sarah being the Pyromaniac.


    The old wizen man was introduced as a master healer named Roland. And lastly was the feline beastkin, his name was Aifen, and his profession was a chef.


    After introducing them all, he looked at the Raug with expectation, waiting for him to introduce himself. After multiple seconds of silence passed, the ''General'' sighed and articulated his question,


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


    "We have introduced ourselves, it is custom to introduce yourself ¡­ if ¡­ if you have a name." Finally noticing that maybe this Raug was not given a name, he berated himself. A battle slave with a name was either an extremely experienced veteran or simply an unmatched warrior of great potential. For a Raug battle slave, a name meant that he was mighty and had achieved significant victories in battle. Of the fifty-five Raug in the Battle of Venral, only three were named. They were the commander and his two lieutenants.


    If they had to deal with a named Raug, the situation would devolve faster if they were not extremely careful not to offend him. Their survival depended on it.


    As the General had this series of disturbing thoughts, the Raug noticed that he could not remember his name.


    ''God damn it! What was my name!?''


    Due to his soul being shattered before, a lot of essential memories had been lost. Most of them dealt with the names and faces of people he knew. He could remember that he had friends, that his mother had a name, and that he had a sister, but no matter how hard he tried, the names just would not come, or how they looked. The only thing that remained were things of little importance. Things like what a pencil is, who Michael Jackson was, and how to make ice-cream.


    As he kept thinking of his name a screen appeared in front of him. To his host, it looked like he was looking far away; reminiscing of different times.


    ''Ding''


    System ¨C


    Do you wish for a random name befitting of the current you?


    Yes-


    No-


    Pressing ''Yes'' without a second thought, a name was generated for him. One that made sense for a Raugin his current situation.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    First Name Generated ¨C Azeal


    ¡­


    Lack of ties to living or past Raug detected ¨C


    ¡­


    ¡­


    New Family name Generated ¨C Neralum-


    Final Name ¨C Azeal Neralum of the Neralum Clan ¨C First of his kind -


    Smiling at his luck and the goddess''s blessing, he turned towards the others and said,


    "My name is Azeal¡­ Azeal Neralum of the Neralum Clan ¨C First of my kind."


    After giving his name, Azeal began stuffing himself with food. Due to his lack of attentiveness, he did not notice the shock that was apparent in Harold''s and Roland''s face.


    A named Raug¡­ free of his bonds¡­ and he somehow ended up in their camp.


    Sometimes, Harold just hated his bad luck.


    _


    After eating the entr¨¦e, Azeal looked towards the General expectantly. Knowing that business should not be brought up before it, yet none of them spoke once until the main course was over.


    Clearing his throat, Azeal said,


    "So¡­ Standardized magic?"


    Noticing the Raug''s impatience, Harold chose to break the table manners; he was taught as a noble of the Seven Duchies, of not speaking until all courses are finished to satisfy him,


    "Standardized magic is a form of magic that has been measured and experimented on to make a set of abilities taught only by the Mages Guild and The Academy. You see, before we made magic more measured, everyone could throw out the same spell and get a vast variety of results from a change in strength, speed, or even magnitude. This made mages very unreliable if they were not masters in a specific spell. So, to correct this fatal flaw, a large group of master mages from every school of magic came together and created a system to measure the amount of mana used for every spell they knew. Making it not only stronger but faster and much more controllable."


    ''Guess there is no auto ¨C help. Got to do everything manually. How inconvenient! I did not get a cheat, at the very least they could make me a master mana manipulator from the very beginning like those fantasy stories!''


    Breaking out of his inner thoughts, he says,


    "How can I join ''The Academy'' or become a member of the Mages Guild?"


    ''At least I can still get someone to teach me. Even if it might not be in the direct future.''


    But, as he imagined life at a magic academy, he noticed that everyone else looked at him with pitying faces.


    "What''s wrong?"


    "You see¡­" Elongating his words, the General did not meet his eye as he continued to speak, "They do not accept slaves or freed slaves into their institutions¡­"


    In the beginning, Azeal did not get why it concerned him. He was never a slave to be freed, yet after a few seconds his eyes began to widen as what he had just heard finally sunk in,


    He, as a Raug, was the only one from his entire race that was free. If he did not play it this way, he would be taken and forced to tell them were the clan of freed Raug existed; even if he was the only one a part of it. The slavers would have his head¡­ Feeling distraught, Azeal excused himself from the table. After a large amount of food was eaten, he had the strength to finally walk without great difficulty. Leading himself towards his tent, his mind was a storm of thoughts and crushed hopes.


    ''No¡­ No magic?''


    Other than a second chance of having a family, magic was the only other reason he had accepted the goddess''s proposal. But now, he would almost never be able to find a teacher. As he entered his tent, he walked into the darkness. All the candles were off, yet he could still see the bed and the rest of the furniture without issue. Not noticing he could see, even with the absence of light, he sat down on his bed.


    After hours of this depressed mood, he finally broke out.


    ''The ''General'' never said that I couldn''t learn. If I can''t find someone to teach me, then I am going to teach myself.''


    Finally hardening his resolve, Azeal fell asleep in a better mood.

 Ch 13 | The Handshake

    ''Clang!''


    Waking up in fright, Azeal looked around with wide eyes. Expecting something to happen.


    Anything¡­


    Yet, as he waited, nothing occurred. The dull sound of clashing swords continued rhythmically in the background, as a rough voice screamed.


    "Step in faster! Your sword must always be raised!"


    Just as the rough voice finished screaming, an audible groan of pain was heard. Azeal could only imagine what was going on outside. Although, it did not seem to be extremely urgent. He decided to take his time before walking out.


    Yawning as he stretched his arms out as far as possible, he got off his soft bed. Noticing a bucket filled with water and a large towel that was draped across the black drawer.


    He wondered if this world was really in a medieval time period. The thought of having to use a latrine or drinking filthy water made him shiver in disgust.


    ''Well, at least I can clean myself.''


    Coming to terms with what he has, he picked up the towel just to notice that his broken drawer was actually replaced with a newer and much less broken version.


    ''How did they get this in without waking me up?''


    Unable to make heads or tails of how they entered without him hearing, he walked towards the bucket of water and made ablution. Cleaning himself from the sweat that covered his body.


    As he did so, he noticed the undeniably muscular body he had. That was something he could appreciate in this world. Almost as much as Magic!


    ''Who in their right mind did not dream of having Arnold Schwarzenegger type muscle?''


    As Azeal finished, he got up to see what was going on outside his tent. But, this time, he would come out with complete dignity!


    Moving the tent flap aside, Azeal strode out with determination.


    Only to be blinded by the sun¡­


    Then tripping over a large rock placed near his tent¡­


    Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the cause of the sudden commotion.


    Laughing from embarrassment, he exclaimed,


    "N¡­ Nothing to see here. Ha¡­Haha"


    Finding nothing interesting, the soldiers returned to practice. Dusting himself as he got up, Azeal noticed the soldiers were lined up into five lines of seven. Each time the Guard Captain hollered a command, all soldiers stepped forward once and swung at the same time. Standing from afar, it looked mystical. Like watching a choreographed sword fight; where every person knew their role and did it without constraint.


    But, what caught his attention more was farther out. Near the outskirts of the camp were the General, the wizen old man, and four soldiers. Unlike the uniformity he witnessed with the previous group, this one had them sparing against each other. Surprisingly, the old man was actually keeping up with every strike the General threw in his direction.


    Suddenly, the old man separated himself from the general by leaping backward. Creating space, his seemed to put a great deal of focus on his staff. Without warning the staff''s knob started to glow a faint foggy yellow. Within a second, sparks started to fly around in a fury. Stepping forward, he lowered his center of gravity. He swung with an underhand blow towards a perceived opening. Only to be met with a massive shield glowing red.


    To Azeal, this moment was sculpted into his mind. It was the pure validation of his dream; rekindling his hope.


    ''That must have been a Skill!''


    Thought Azeal, as he watched in wonder at the skills being showed, he remembered of the skill the Goddess had gotten for him.


    ''Ding''


    System ¨CThis novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Modifications ¨C


    The Curse of Ragual ¨C The Blessing of Astra ¨C


    Skills ¨C


    Great-Sword Proficiency ¨C Moderate Tier (High)


    - Your ability to learn the art in wielding a Great-Sword rises in proficiency.


    - You learn at an increased pace. X2.75 faster than an average soldier


    ¡­


    You will receive one random Skill and another in accordance with your most dominant affinity ¨C Racial Trait ¨C


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Random Skill 1 - ¡­ Blind ¡­ Emotion ¡­


    Blind Emotion ¨C High Tier (High)


    - Power gained is Power paid ¨C Until the Price is adequate you will not have the right to use this skill. It may cost much, but to many, it is worth the price paid. Is that true for you?


    - Locked ¨C three conditions must be met -


    - Condition 1 ¨C ''¡­''


    - Condition 2 ¨C ''¡­''


    - Condition 3 ¨C ''¡­''


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Random Skill 2 - Earth Molding ¨C


    Earth Molding (Defensive) ¨C High Tier (Low)


    - Any structure created by the usage of Earth Manipulation has a reduced mana cost of 75%


    - Any defensive structure created will be 25% more stable and 30% stronger


    - Golem Building cost reduction by 20%


    - Any offensive usage of Earth Manipulation costs 15% more


    ''Blind Emotion? That sounds very ominous. But sounds strong! High Tiered (High) that must be quite special.''


    Yet, even though he was incredibly happy at receiving two very strong skills, he was saddened at the fact that his Great-Sword Skill did not automatically teach him all the ins and outs of using a great-sword. Instead, he must put years into training to become good at it.


    ''Doesn''t it take a decade to become really good at using a sword? Ugh, that''s still seven years.


    As he continued to think of his skills, the General and his entourage walked up to him without being noticed.''


    "Good Morning!" Hollered the General, startling him,


    "What?... oh, Umm, Hello. I mean good morning, General." Replied Azeal, trying his best not to smile. he had noticed that it usually caused the recipient of the said smile to either quiver in fear or tense up. Why that happened he did not know. But, nevertheless, his face constricted itself to his most devious smile against his wishes. This caused the men behind the general and the old man to tense their muscles in reaction.


    ''I really need to improve my first impressions. Can''t have everyone be completely on guard around me.''


    As he was seated before they arrived he noticed an incredible fact about his height. Without standing he was almost eye to eye with the general. But once he stood he towered over them by a good two feet, making him even more intimidating.


    Putting his hands on his chest, the general''s smile widened as he spoke,


    "Enough with the formalities, friend. I would prefer it if you called me Harold."


    Gesturing to his companions, he continues,


    "This old man next to me is a Master Battle Healer. Best in the Duchies without a doubt, Roland Extrius."


    Reaching out, Azeal extended his hand in greeting. Only to be stared at by the six of them with incredulity. As the moment elongated and the awkward moment made sweat drip down Azeal''s back, Roland''s smile became unbearably enormous. Literally from ear to ear.


    Grabbing Azeal''s forearm, he shook with a strength that belied his age. Shaking it vigorously, Roland laughed with delight.


    Unbeknownst to Azeal, his small gesture made a large impact on those surrounding him. An Extended hand in greeting from a Raug was more than a simple handshake. Instead, it was an admission of brotherhood and trust. Something that was never given out lightly in a world filled with death and war. This sign was only given to those you supped and bleed with in battle for many years.


    It was either that he was completely na?ve and did not understand the significance of his action, or he knew a great amount about who he truly was facing. Having learned of the General and The Master Battle Healer; learned of their honor and commitment to fulfill any word they gave.


    In either case, it would be wise to be extremely cautious.


    After the Raug, No, after Azeal released Roland''s forearm awkwardly, Harold extended his arm willing to give the same pact of trust his friend had accepted. And to his absolute joy, Azeal shook his hand in confirmation.


    Who in their right mind would not want a free and ''Named'' Raug as a brother in battle and trust¡­


    <hr>


    After what seemed to be an hour of shaking hands with Harold and his entourage, Azeal had a very important thought cross his mind.


    ''There must be something important about me shaking their hands! Hmm ¡­ I wonder what it could mean¡­''


    Completely oblivious to the significance of his handshakes, he continued to give them to whoever Harold lead him towards. First were the four men who were sparring. They were all Beastkin. From afar they looked no different than a human, but up close you would notice minute changes to their facial structure that made them stand out. For instance, they had furry ears that were usually covered by their thick hair. Surprising Azeal, he learned that they were actually slaves that won their freedom by swearing to serve Harold loyally.


    ''God, I really was sent to a medieval world where slavery existed!''


    After them came the guard with two vertical lines running down his pauldron. He was actually a guard captain who was named Helis Maltorn.


    Just as he finished his greetings, Azeal throughout the entire time was actually building the courage to demand that the general teach him to use a great sword. But ¡­


    ''Ding''


    System


    Azeal Neralum of the Neralum Clan ¨C


    You have become a friend to the House of Harold Winsten of the House of Winsten. You have accepted both the good and bad that shall come from affiliating yourself. And they have accepted the same.


    - Titles will be shown only when you desire


    - Title Earned ¨C Friend of the Great General


    - Title Earned ¨C Friend of the House of Harold Winsten


    Standing there stunned by what he just read from the System notification, Azeal only had one reply to the responsibilities and trust put on his shoulders¡­


    "Damn¡­"

 Ch 14 | OORAH!!!

    ''What did I get myself into¡­?''


    Thought Azeal as he was led away by Roland and Harold. He could not fathom how different the customs and traditions are compared to his world¡­


    ''Well when I put it like that, then I guess it does make sense. I ¡­ I was just not ready for it.''


    As they walked, Harold put his hand on Azeal''s shoulder and said,


    "This is a great honor for me and my house to have you as an ally. In your time of need, we will be there for you, and we hope you will be there for us in our time as well."


    With a beaming smile, he gestured forward towards an enormous pavilion.


    "Yes, it is an honor. Hopefully, we won''t have to ever deal with a darkest hour¡­" Replied Azeal nervously,


    "We can only dream, Azeal. We can only dream¡­ Now on to a more important topic", Having entered the pavilion he noticed that it was filled with maps and parchments of various distinctions. Looking around the messy interior, a table with snacks and three chairs surrounding it caught his attention. Unlike the rest of the room, where everything was clustered together, the table seemed like an island in the midst of an ocean of paper and furniture. As if an invisible barrier kept everything a good distance away from it.


    As Azeal walked towards this eccentric scene, he worried he would have to kneel on the ground due to his size in comparison to the small chairs. Yet, the closer he got, the more he noticed a massive and opulent chair behind the clutter of things.


    ''I wonder how they got a chair my size so quickly?''


    Rubbing a hand on the chair, he felt how smooth the hard wood felt under his large hands. Tracing the swirls carved into the chair, he lost himself in how long it would take to create something so intricate.


    "I see you enjoy such luxury; we used a few logs of Mahgol wood from the border of the Forest Elves of Retuali to create such a beauty."


    Commented Roland, mistaking his intrigue in the chair for a sense of fashion rather than how it was made.


    "Ah Yes, it is indeed quite something" Not knowing what to say Azeal choose to speak as neutrally as possible. He had a rule of thumb he tended to follow when he was caught daydreaming. One was to try to sound intelligent. The Second was to be as neutral as possible, lest he causes an unintended issue. In this situation, he learned anything he says or does has a significant impact, so he was determined to find out a bit more of this world, so he doesn''t make another major mistake.


    Azeal did not know who these people truly were; for all he knew, they could be rebels on the run lying to him the entire time. Or they could be a well-respected group that will make his entire life easier.


    "Azeal," Called out Harold breaking him out of his reverie. As he looked towards him, he noticed Harold''s solemn face. Straightening his back, he knew something important was going to be said, so he prepared to make this conversation go on as long as possible to learn more about their customs.


    "We have taken it upon us to help you; I do not know who you escaped from or where, but the fact remains that you are a Raug¡­"


    Unable to stop himself, Azeal blurted out, "How does my race affect how others perceive me? Should they not judge me by the content of my heart rather than the color of my skin or ¡­ or how different I look?", falling into his modern sensibility.


    Calmly Roland spoke with mirth,


    "Of course, in an ideal world, you will be judged by your actions and your intentions, but this is not one. You will be seen as a political tool, to be used until you are worthless and then discarded. Or you will face fear from those who do not understand you. It is the way things are done in the Seven Duchies. Don''t get me wrong, there are many pure-hearted people in power, but they are the vast minority."


    Picking up where Roland stopped, Harold continued,


    "That brings us to why we are here now. If you are discovered to be a free Raug, then political hell will rain down upon us. With every stronger faction attempting to force you into their service. Willingly or not. So, I suggest that we find a way to conceal your form from the outside world. If they do not know, then they are not able to truly verify that you are actually a Raug; they will not be able to act solely on unfounded rumors."The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "What are you suggesting, Harold?" Replied Azeal a bit hesitantly,


    "Well, luckily for us both, during my younger days, I cleared out a few magical dungeons¡­"


    Cutting him off, Azeal''s eye''s widened with anticipation, "Did you say dungeons? As in full of monsters and treasure?"


    Laughing at the reaction, Harold looked at Azeal knowingly,


    "Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be young. Yes, there will be many monsters, but it is not what they make it out to be. What you hear is mostly propaganda from the Adventurer''s Guild to attract promising recruits. Although dungeons are aplenty, and they are full to the brim in monsters, most only give a few treasures. After killing a floor leader, the treasure is completely unimbued by a Mana signature. The issue is that if you enter with a group of five, it is as likely for one person to receive all the treasures with his mana signature as it is likely for all five of them to receive treasures; once a weapon or armor is imbued, it is worthless to anyone other than the person who connected with it. Now back to what I was saying. As I adventured, I met a group of warriors who choose to give up their true Identity to become chivalrous knights during a dungeon clearing. After working with them for multiple battles, they had given me one of their helms as a sign of respect. With it, we will be able to sell the lie of you being one of them. Any reading will give what you want others to see. The only issue with it is¡­"


    Looking a bit uncertain Harold continues by clearing his throat "The issue is that it is cursed."


    Furrowing his eyebrows in an unarticulated question, Azeal waited for him to finish explaining.


    After a few seconds with nobody saying anything, Harold looked a bit tense,


    "Its¡­ Its cursed so¡­" He still couldn''t get a definitive answer from the Raug,


    Azeal finally got that he was supposed to discern something from ''it is cursed,'' asked,


    "What is supposed to do? Turn me into a Goblin? Grow an extra arm? Lose a leg?"


    "No, why would something like that even exist? No, when someone tells you something is cursed, then it means that it is almost impossible to take it off once you put it on except on very specific situations. With this, you can only take it off from midnight until sunrise. Look I know that it does not sound appealing, but it is necessary."


    "Oh, that''s it? That doesn''t sound bad. Does it have any other effects?"


    Azeal thought that the price being paid was looking absolutely wonderful for the day when he could just take it off in the night. In his opinion, it was not that bad of an effect. He thought that it would have a deforming effect or maybe take away his emotions. Thankfully, the only result was that it was semi-permanent.


    He was already imagining himself as an amazing knight. Standing at the edge of a cliff as the wind blew his cape around.


    ''I am going to look amazing!


    "Umm, no¡­ no other effect that I know of. Then again, the Knights of Chivas were quite a secretive group."


    Getting up Harold walked to a large chest in the far-right corner. A blue mist started to appear around his hand. He pressed it on a sign of two dragons chasing each other in a circle. After a few seconds, an audible click can be heard within the tent. Opening the chest, Azeal saw what completely amazed him. Instead of seeing anything within, there was a black void that seemed impossible to see through.


    ''It''s a Storage Chest! That must cost a fortune!''


    Putting his hand in, Harold closed his eyes. Taking his time, he finally opened them with a smile. Pulling his hand out, a decorative helm that would cover his entire head appeared in his hands.


    Harold walked back to Azeal and held out the helm for him to take. Grabbing it, he looked at its decorative carvings with awe.


    "Here you go. It is better in your hands than mine. The last thing I can give you is a weapon. Can''t have you dying anytime soon." Bursting out in laughter, he sat down in his seat as Azeal looked at him awkwardly, finally tittering to not look out of place.


    <hr>


    After eating a light snack, to Azeal that was everything on the table, they walked out of the tent in a happy mood. The entire time Azeal was working his hardest to build enough courage to ask Harold to teach him how to use a great-sword. Who better to teach him than a general of an army.


    "One last thing, Harold. I was hoping that we can spar to increase my proficiency with my favored weapon, the great sword."


    "Of course, it would be delightful to test my skills against yours. Let us not forget to get you armed. Come, we will see what you are made of."


    They walked towards the edge of the camp where they stationed a temporary armory. Told to wait, Azeal stood on the outside as the Harold entered with one of the soldiers stationed there. After a few minutes, they walked out with a massive sword almost seven feet long. Dragging it behind him, Harold pulled the pummel up towards Azeal, indicating that he should take it.


    "Although this might not fit you right, it will do for now. Lets us go a bit farther to test your mettle."


    Once they walked far enough, Harold stood in a serious but well-practiced stance, giving Azeal the honor of the first attack.


    ''Don''t embarrass yourself! Don''t embarrass yourself!'', he repeated to himself like a mantra.


    Hardening his nerves, Azeal took two steps forward with the sword dragged behind him. Suddenly he lost himself in an unknown feeling; a primal instinct he never noticed. A vast ocean deep in his soul, a connection to those before him. He roared a petrifying battle cry.


    "OORAH!!!"


    As he got into range, he swung over his head with as much force as he could muster. His only goal... to defeat his opponent.

 Ch 15 | Emotion Sight

    POV Harold Winsten


    The air shook with the fury of his mighty battle cry. Harold found himself standing in front of a natural disaster waiting to occur. Knowing, he had to face it head on or his loss was imminent. Much to his great frustration, he recognized the power in his opponent was massive, to say the least. The only silver lining, the massive Raug looked clumsy as he covered the gap between them in two enormous steps. Yet, the baleful aura and pure strength exuded at that moment made up for his deficiencies.


    Drawing from his massive experience, he lowered his center of gravity, widened his stance. Then bent his knees. Making himself as small as possible. Using his Tower of Might skill, he raised his shield at an angle. Sliding his left foot forward and to the right. As the enormous sword dropped like a meteorite, it hit Harold''s shield with an unyielding force. Using the momentum of the blade against itself, he pushed his angled shield up, forcing the enormous blade to slide down its rough exterior.


    But, at that moment, Harold was shaken by the incredible strength. Forced a step back, he found no chance to strike. Gathering his composure, he forced himself back into a compact form. The Raug used this time to swing an upward slashing attack. Attempting to make him lose balance and end the battle in two strikes.


    Understanding the vast difference in strength, Harold tilted his shield in a forty-five-degree angle, where he pushed the lower part out, and the top towards him. Parrying with a grunt of effort, he spun with his sword prepared for a downward slash. Keeping his shield in front of his opponent''s blade lest he is cut in half.


    Screaming in effort, he swung with as much force as he could. Using his inherited skill, Strengthen, he bolstered his strength for a second. Using his battle energy wisely, he knew he could not use both Tower of Might and his Strengthen skill for an extended period of time together. So, he chose to use Strengthen in timed bursts for efficiency.


    As he slashed, the Raug used the metal outgrowth on his forearms to block the incoming attack. Yet, it was not enough to stop Harold''s blade from drawing blood. Hoping to follow up on his attack, he prepared to strike again but jumped back as far as possible with urgency. Having felt mana gathering in front of him. He tried to cover himself entirely with his shield.


    As he was jumping back, a massive amount of mana was gathered on his opponent''s hand. Within a second of time from hiding behind his shield, an inferno of fire was blasted towards him. The edges of the flame licked upon his armor; their heat, palpable.


    Just as the Raug was about to charge at him again, A strong voice sounded out clearly.


    "STOP!"


    <hr>


    "STOP!" A voice sounded out like an echo in his foggy mind. Azeal broke out of the trance he was in just a second ago. Coming to a dead stop, he lowered his head, staring at his hands. Something was freed; opened to the world. He felt afraid, worried about the consequences of this quick spar. Terrified at his complete lack of control, his eye''s glazed. Anxious at the sudden change, he excused himself.


    Walking towards his tent, he could not help but feel the awe, that was coming out of everyone that watched the fight, in waves. As he looked around, he saw the many shades of emotions, as if they were a tangible thing. They came from all parts of the spectrum; fear, joy, sadness, but most unusual was a single person with great anger. Anger that flew in droves. Unaccustomed to seeing the sources of such emotions, he hurried his steps to get away as fast as possible. How he was suddenly seeing it all, he did not know.


    But what he did know¡­ He would be driven insane at the sheer intricacy of it all.


    Finally reaching his tent, he forcefully pushed his way in. Stumbling at how much information he was suddenly receiving. Every moment he focused on them, the more they became; an unending font constantly growing. Yet, he could not pull his eye''s away from the pure beauty of it all.


    Knowing he would become addicted to it, he shut his eyes with a tremendous effort. Forcing himself, he sat down to meditate. To find some sort of balance to this suffering. Something that was at least bearable. Trying his utmost best to force away the ''second sight''. For a long period of time, nothing changed. But as he was holding on to the tiniest of ropes tied to his sanity, he finally broke through the amalgamation of emotions it had all become.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ''Ding''


    System ¨C


    Skill ¨C


    Blind Emotion - High Tiered (High)


    Power gained is Power paid ¨C Until the Price is adequate you will not have the right to use this skill. It may cost much, but to many, it is worth the price paid. Is that true for you?


    - Locked ¨C three conditions must be met -


    - Condition 1 ¨C ''The simplest of the three, it is not a price, but a confirmation of your ability.''


    - Face an opponent a minimum of twenty-five levels above you and not die.


    - Unlocked - Emotion Sight - You sense all emotions, every ounce of joy, sadness, and hate. Here you must find balance, for failing to will destroy your weakened mind. Making you nothing more than an insane creature, having lost all modicum of thought. But, if you make it past the pain and suffering, then rejoice in the glory of your success!


    - Condition 2 ¨C ''¡­''


    - Condition 3 ¨C ''¡­''


    Feeling inexplicably tired, he broke down at the pain and insanity he had to go through. Quietly sobbing to himself. Feeling broken by it all. No, the power was not worth it in his eyes; it was not worth feeling a thousand hooks tear into his mind, their numbers always growing. Such pain was not meant to be experienced by a normal person. He lived in an age were great mental fortitude and willpower were not required to live a good life; a peaceful existence. Though stress was a great factor in his dealings with work and family, he had lived a comfortable life compared to many people in third world countries. Then again, even they would not be tortured in such a way.


    Opening his eyes, he noticed that they had become crusted. Rubbing them with his hands, he finally got them to open. The first thing he noticed was his hands had a faded color of red. Reaching up, he touched around his eyes, to find what had crusted over his eyes were not the tears he sheds, but the blood that oozed out as he fought for his sanity. How long it had been, he did not know; nor did it matter to him.


    Bringing both trembling hands up, his back was bent forward. Droplets falling onto their open palms. He clenched them into fists. Promising to himself, to never give up. To never fall into despair and misery. No matter how hard it becomes.


    He had a home to build¡­ A future family to take care of¡­ He will not pass on until he made an eternal fortress to keep them safe.


    For the rest of the night, Azeal cried. Until his hulking form finally fell asleep from exhaustion.


    <hr>


    Unbeknownst to Azeal, Fenia watched him from afar. Sadness filled her soul at the pain only a Raug and a god could ever survive. She thanked The One for his blessing. That of all modifications, Azeal had chosen this one.


    The Raug were a curious race. Their most prominent trait was an emotion limiter that was not shown by the system. This limiter greatly dulled all emotions in high-stress situations. Making the trial he faced much easier on him. Yet, she knew it was not enough; it had broken something inside of him. It was the only thing that would cause a fully-grown person to bawl like a child for most of the night.


    Oh, how much she wanted to help ease his pain. To stop his suffering. To her, he was like a child she could never have. For the gods could not reproduce. Still, she had found the last tiny particles of his existence in the void through sheer luck. Particles as small as a grain of sand. She had given him from her own soul, forcing her to stay for many years in a cocoon of pure energy to heal.


    She felt¡­ She felt like a mother¡­


    At the time Fenia gave him a fully formed soul, she felt incredibly satisfied and happy to be a mother.


    But now, she knew it was a double-edged sword. Watching him in such pain caused her great distress. Though she knew, to act in the world of mortals directly was to invite them to her domain¡­


    Fear gripped her heart at the prospect of having True Angels and Demons hunting her. She remembered the war, that most terrible war. The gods battled for eons; each faction fighting for dominance. But, after the Pantheon of Holy Light finally defeated the Pantheon of Dark Endings, they became too strong. Becoming a pure dictatorship, where they forced their views on all other gods.


    They had all gathered and formed a force to oppose them, fighting for years untold. Until the Gates of Cercius, near the outer edge of the world, opened but a sliver. Even for the long-lived gods, they knew not what it truly meant; only that a force that will destroy them will come out.


    But, when they came out in orderly lines and unimaginable numbers, a god of trade estimated that for every one of us there was seventy-thousand standing on the other side. Then two walked forward. An Archangel and an Archdemon. Power, unlike anything the gods have ever seen, surged uncontrollably from their most furious visages. Their anger unimaginable.


    Their words, spoken in unison, clung to Fenia like a parasite,


    "You have caused great pain to those you were entrusted with! You have forsaken the vows of your forefathers! And betrayed The One''s trust in you! Destruction untold has been sown! Cruelty unknown has been allowed! The world, your pitiful existence claim sovereignty over, weeps in sorrow at the unnatural powers you have released! Know that justice has come to be served in Thy name! And with a deft hand IT. SHALL. BE. UNRELENTING!!!"


    Screaming with fury, they charged at the gods. All of them charged¡­

 Not A Chapter! Map of the World!

    Map of the World! I put a lot of effort into making this. Hopefully, it is good!


    Let me know what you think in the comment section!If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Though the continents look like they are really close to each other, they are in fact very far distant. Just didn''t have enough room to make that much space without messing the map up!


    You might look around only to find different races across the world, but you don''t notice any dwarves! Worry not fellow dwarf enthusiasts! You don''t see them because they are all underground in their kingdoms or up high in their mountains! Then again they have trade routes to almost every kingdom.

 Ch 16 | On Another Front

    Anger is a relative thing. It is not inherently good nor is it evil. Just a means to an end. A burning fire that drives us beyond our greatest limitations. A tool to be used; one that must not be abused...


    Yet, its fury drives me constantly. My only reason to continue this pathetic life is to sate its most unending hunger; to finally get vengeance. Vengeance for my most beloved brother. And HE, the hypocrite, will one day fall to the point of my sharpened spear! Eviscerating him beyond any recognition!


    My pure wrath is not a sin; no it is righteous. An eye for an eye, a life for a life, and his is the cost of justice. Clenching his fist until blood seeped from between his fingers, he closed his eyes. Flashes of memories long past. Fragments of who his brother was passed his mind''s eye.


    "Undiel," called out a booming voice. Jumping in fright, Undiel looked around with wide eyes, only to find that most obnoxious Bearkin walking towards him.


    Speaking before that ball of excitement exploded on him, pulling him into its most disgusting clutches,


    "Troyis, I am not in the mood for your jubilance. Leave me alone as I wallow in grief."


    Looking away, he stared at the moonless night sky. Its darkness, similar to the hole of perpetual shade in his heart. Only to be interrupted by a massive arm literally thrown around his shoulder, staggering him.


    Face to face with him, Troyis beamed at the frowning Undiel. His enormous smile was blinding to the morose and anger filled Undiel.


    "Ya need ta get out ov this funk, ma Monke'' friend! Smile and laugh a'' the world; its pathetic attempt to drag ous down ''ave failed so far, ''avent it."


    "I am not a MONKEY! Don''t insult me by comparing my more primitive kin to me!"


    Opposite of him, Undiel''s face was darkness incarnate. His anger was flashing, muscle tightening and eyebrows twitching. Yet, the pure exuberance, that irritating Bearkin exuded, outshined him.


    ''Maybe I can give a small smile to get Troyis to run off somewhere. Hmm, I better not, I would get swept away like last time! He had me drinking and dancing for hours; completely forgetting my grief. Something that I can not, in good conscience, do.''


    "Ya, Ya, I ge'' it. The other two er wai''ing for us at the center of camp. Jack is bringin ''is cards out!" Laughing boisterously, he grabbed Undiel''s right arm and dragged him away from his lonely perch.


    <hr>


    Far Far Away, Near the Dark Orcish Borders -


    Here, in a dark and damp cave within a labyrinth, sat two. Hidden from the world. Plotting and scheming; each for a purpose. Goals twisted in evil ways.


    A seemingly dark union bent on the destruction of good¡­


    Then again, history is but the narrative of the winners of war. Demonized and made into heartless monsters, the other side must face this prejudice without recourse. All actions taken, proof of their evil. And all time made in peace, preparation for an invasion¡­


    Here sat two, goals starkly different. The first, a king. Bent on his invasion; determined to succeed in his war. Yet, he was peaceful at heart. He did not wish this on the world or his own. No, it was the product of a circumstance. As he gathered his soldiers, his heart began to crack. His kind soul cried when he ordered his armies across the sea. But no tears fell from his pleading eyes. Begging for release from their emotionless prison.


    His people needed this. His entire race''s survival depended on this. A war for plains of grass, forests covered with trees, and mountains filled with treasures. A war of hope. As the King of the kingdom of Telfun, he was duty-bound to find a peaceful land for his people; for the women, the elderly, and the children.


    Without it, they could not continue their holy pursuit. They could not keep the legions from the abyss from swarming into this world.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    This one, a king; his name was Rejus VI.


    The other, a greedy man. His mountains of gold did not satisfy him. His duchy did not make him content. No, they made him desire more. Desperate to get what he had not.


    He covered himself in cover after cover; to hide who he truly is. To the outside world, he was a righteous man. One who reminded others of the gods and how they blessed him beyond measure. Only a few have ever removed the curtains he hid behind.


    Plotting and scheming, it was all he ever did. And though he had become a master at its most intricate art, one goal eluded him. For nearly three decades he tried, yet, that man somehow always got away unscathed.


    This one, a duke; his name was Dendar Orbes.


    "You have not fulfilled your promises, duke. My people have a saying: Promises made, Promises not kept, bring, they do, the reaper of your soul. My intelligence informs me the Healer is still with the General?" Spoke the king in a deep baritone voice. Speaking closer to a rumble than actual words.


    "He has more clout with the king than I had expected, King of the Telfun. Using many old favors, all I could have done was keep him within our range. The valley nestled within mountains on royal land that he sought was deprived of him. Sent to the edges of my duchy on the premise that your armies might break through the battlefront." Although his failure to separate the two was quite obvious, his self-confidence was so high he still managed to sound smug with success.


    "Your reassurances fall on deaf ears. We still remember that dark day." Turning his head away, it was as if he could see his people return from battle, broken. Tornados of fire, endless spikes of earth, and warriors capable of slaughtering thousands was what the few that came back spoke of. Though his heart had left with the first ships of his armies so many years ago, he had still felt a grasping pain to see so many of his people die and still fail.


    Speaking animatedly, the duke responded,


    "Worry not, this time I have schemed a perfect plan. One of his own, I have planted the seeds of anger, vengeance, and doubt within his mind. He carries a magic stone that is connected to its other pair. The mercenaries I have sent this time will definitely send him to his grave. His entourage of warriors will not survive against them, for the corrupted one will plant a poison within their food the night before the attack."


    Smirking, he looked at the king, only to find a disappointed face. As if his plan was not good enough.


    "Although you truly are a master of plotting, your greatest weakness rears its ugly head once more. You''ve put all of your reliance on a single human. What if he is caught beforehand? Sickness debilitates him? Or even worse, he has a change of heart, telling them of your pitiful plan."


    Rustling with indignation, Dendar gripped the armrest of his chair until his knuckles whitened, Snarling, he said,


    "He will not fail! I have given him false proof that the General was the cause of his brother''s death. There is no one with them that can prove it otherwise."


    Shaking his head, the king simply laughed at Dendar. Rebuking him was simply to easy, then again, you can''t compare a duke with a king.


    "You still don''t get it, do you? If you were a general within my army, you would have been executed already for incompetence! You do not take everything into consideration. How sure are you that the master healer will not notice the poison affecting them all? Or that another group intervenes, saving them from your mercenaries."


    Noticing that the Duke yet again had another rebuttal, he raised his hand demanding silence from the fool before him. Greedy men will always fall from the heights they build themselves up to. Never content with what they have. Releasing his domineering aura, he lowered his hand slowly as he watched the duke create a barrier of mana to lessen the pressure released by the king. For all his shortcomings, the Duke was still a powerful mage. One of the strongest in the Seven Duchies; without it, his family would have fallen from their throne many years ago.


    "Enough! I wish not to hear your trifling plans. Prepare the battlefront for our advance, Duke. We will surround the border city he was sent to with a horde beyond the numbers we have ever fielded in this war. Make sure you take everything into consideration. For if you fail me again, then, I personally, will come for your head."


    Having said his piece, the king stood. Walking away with the massive and most intricate armor the duke has ever seen. Within a few steps, his figure began to fade into the darkness.


    <hr>


    Dendar sat in his chair, sweat crawling down his back. The overbearing aura the king had released slowly faded away with the king as he faded into the Dark Mist. Known as a master of the Darkness, King Rejus VI, was the most powerful man he had ever met; matching even the Royal Duke himself.


    But, to him, bearing this was well worth its price.


    Everything the duke spent, the King would pay him back with a seven-point 5 percent interest rate. This war was the most profitable venture he had ever embarked on. Now all he has to do was somehow end the war in negotiations before the king found a reason to eliminate him. If only Harold Winsten would just keel over and die for him. It would make everything so much easier on everybody. Especially his burning soul.


    Oh, he would never forgive him! He would always remember the thief of his beating heart. The one who took Maria''s love away from him¡­


    He would have his revenge, even if it took him a lifetime!

 Ch 17 | The Helm

    Five days, that was how long it had been since he fought for his sanity. Five days since he had once again opened his eyes to the world; only to feel like he had been blind in the past. There was no pain this time. No madness was creeping into his mind.


    There was only a majestic beauty beyond his greatest imaginations. The world looked brighter in its most obtuse order. Colors in hundreds of distinctions, painting a mural. A million shattered pieces put together perfectly. Each dancing around the other, always changing, evolving. Influencing and being influenced by those that surround it.


    It was the same as it was during his suffering, yet fundamentally different. Then, it was beauty in its most wild of states; chaos born without boundaries. Constantly flaring in its most prideful countenance. Now, there was a precise order to everything that happened around him. Boundaries, though in constant fluctuation, defined each emotion emitted by its carrier.


    It was¡­ bearable. The pressure was not all-consuming in its embrace. If he was careful, the threat of insanity was a distant thing.


    Most importantly, he knew that there were two extremes in this camp. One of great anger and pain. Splashes of red met his every step while fading darkness followed him like a cape - fluttering in an unseen wind. Another was of great happiness and joy. Oranges and yellows latched onto anything he touched. But, most surprising was how similar they looked. Only a few shades apart. Every time they neared each other, a war broke out for dominance. Curtained from sight.


    Watching, he noticed that whenever they met, both lost a great deal in their emotional scape. The only glimmer of hope was that the anger filled sadness had less fuel to burn on compared to the joy and happiness. As long as nothing horrible happens while they battled, a ray of light would eventually pierce the dark storm brewing before Azeal.


    Once he looked beyond the emotions to their carriers, he found that they were two of the freed slaves Harold introduced to him before. The first was named Undiel, a Monkeykin, while the other was Troyis, a Bearkin.


    <hr>


    Touching his head subconsciously as he watched the two emotions battle a small skirmish before his very eyes, Azeal rode on an all too familiar beast of burden. For some reason, this beast had been waiting outside his tent the morning after his harrowing experience. Having been in a depressed state, he did not have enough energy to reject this determined creature.


    It followed him everywhere he went; though he did not visit any place other than to ask Roland what he was supposed to do to make the helm work.


    Azeal had decided to put on the helm when he woke up. He tried to lie to himself, saying that it was his plan from the beginning, but the longer it took to put it on the more he had to face the truth. He wanted to hide his pain. To conceal his most vulnerable moment; his insecurity.


    Once he decided to find help, he knew that Harold would demand to know what had happened to make him look so terrible. So, he went to Roland for the answer. Finding out that he had to drop a bit of blood onto it then wear it. Doing so, he put it on.


    ''Ding''


    System -


    Modifications -


    Helm of the Knights of Chivas - Cursed (Semi-Permanent)


    Effects -


    ¡­


    Status Concealment - Moderate Tier (High)


    - Shows what you choose to be shown during any reading.


    - Any being with over one hundred wisdom more than you will be able to see past this effect.


    ¡­


    Seraphim Bloodline - High Tier (High)


    - The last of the full Seraphim kings had noticed the tide which they faced was the end to their noble heritage. In a desperate bid to survive, he resorted to an evil ritual that trapped his soul and bloodline within his own throne. Every half a century, a helm is magically created with the same properties, to spread his bloodline. Hoping one day, his lineage would be revived again.Stolen story; please report.


    - Absorb mana stones from light and holy based creatures to slowly unlock.


    - 39.435% of 100%


    ErroR¡­ ErroR...


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Due to your pure Raug bloodline and your recognized existence as a being from another world, this effect is no longer valid for the recip-


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Skill Blind Emotion has cannibalized this effect, changing its structure.


    Seraphim Bloodline Transfer - High Tier (High)


    - The last of the full Seraphim kings had noticed the tide which they faced was the end to their noble heritage. In a desperate bid to survive, he resorted to an evil ritual that trapped his soul and bloodline within his throne. Every half a century, a helm is magically created with the same properties, to spread his bloodline. Hoping one day, his lineage would be revived again.


    Yet, you achieved his greatest dream. The ability to transfer his bloodline.


    - Absorb mana stones from light and holy based creatures to slowly unlock.


    - 39.435% of 100% unlocked


    - Needs a minimum of 54.455% to transfer


    - Once transferred, it can no longer be taken back


    -The recipient will be bound to you.


    Surprised at the sudden cannibalization of the helm''s effect, he had subconsciously tried to take it off. Only to feel a piercing pain in his head. Letting go, he took a deep breath. Afraid he would begin to panic once again.


    He still had phantom pain. He had once heard that people who lose a limb would feel a phantom itch they cannot scratch. Never genuinely taking it to heart, he had stashed it into the back of his mind. Yet, now it was a part of his life.


    Any sudden pain, no matter how small, reminded him of those torturous moments.


    ''Breathe in, Breathe out - You have things to accomplish.''


    ''Breathe in, Breathe out - You have things to accomplish.''


    ''Breathe in, Breathe out - You have things to accomplish.''


    It had become a soothing mantra he constantly repeated. A necessity for him to not lose control; becoming a shivering mess in front of everyone as they moved towards their destination. That was for when he was in private. Away from prying eyes. Resolving himself to his fate, he composed his emotions.


    Turning back to the bickering beastkins a bit in front of him, a small smile blossomed on his face. Though the pain was horrible, moments like this made up for it all. Moments were he could watch such pure emotion; no matter its make.


    <hr>


    POV - General Harold Winsten


    Harold watched Azeal surreptitiously. He knew something was wrong after the Raug had left after their little spar with a distant look in his eyes. Following his instinct then, Harold had used his skill Mana Perception to find out why. What he found then frightened him to his core.


    An unbelievable amount of mana gathered around Azeal. A storm that covered the entire camp and beyond. Face whitening, he found that his hands felt incredibly weak. His sword and shield dropped to the ground as he instinctively started to step back in fear and awe. That was not something he ever expected.


    What had been in front of him then was a reminder to Harold. That no matter how hard a normal human may try, individually they would never compare to the monsters that lived far away.


    Their battle was nothing but a farce. At any moment, Azeal could have simply blown him into particles. All it would have taken was a wave of his hands.


    Oh, Harold had ways to deal with such powerful beings, but he would have to be fully prepared many days before the fight. An ambush would render them all useless¡­


    Now, as he watched Azeal, a constant and thick covering of mana covered the Raug. The mana was so dense and compact that it was visible to the untrained eye. Like heat waves perpetually surrounding him.


    What was he doing? Was he gathering mana? If so, why? If not, then what could it possibly be? Why was he intently watching Undiel and Troyis? What made their bickering special enough to garner his completely undivided attention? Why did he occasionally shiver and seem to put tremendous effort into stopping it?


    Feeling the need to probe the situation, Harold clicks his tongue guiding his battle horse towards the oel Azeal rode. Knowing even the battle horses were extremely wary of such fickle creatures, he remained a comfortable distance away.


    "Azeal! How is the Oel treating you? You seem to hate or fear riding on such mounts. You shiver every bump of the road."


    Just as he had finished speaking, you could clearly hear the oel huff in displeasure. It was as if it could understand them. You can never underestimate these creatures.


    Cursing under his breath, he watched as Azeal laughed uproariously. He did not know if the Raug was genuinely happy. The helm he had given him covered his entire face. The only thing that was apparent was his red eyes that seemed to shine brightly.


    "Her name is Buttercup. And she is just wonderful."


    Patting the Oel, he continued, "Arent you girl?"


    Seeming happy at the praise, buttercup bellowed. Wincing at what sounded closer to a broken engine than anything else. Azeal laughed again.


    Not knowing what to make of the great mood Azeal was in, he clicked his tongue again. This time speeding up closer to the front to the caravan. As he looked up to the sky, he noticed that they had a few hours until sunset. He ordered his men to find a suitable camp and begin laying it out.

 Ch 18 | The Final Decision

    Tonight is the night!


    Retribution shall be mine. My ever burning wrath sated. I will glut my hunger for vengeance. For justice will be served on a golden platter.


    Oh, how wonderful it will be to see him take his last breath. Reaching out to me for hope, just to be denied; as he left my brother to rot in his early grave!


    His death would finally free me of my obligation. Unfetter my soul from its heavy chains. I would finally be able to rest in peace¡­


    Yet, I am hesitating to cement the last brick in his stone coffin. Doubt clings to my mind as I attempt to ensure his death.


    Of all emotions I could feel, guilt plagues me at this moment! A curse never meant to be caressed.


    Feeling wetness crawling down his cheek, Undiel wiped at it. But, despite how many times he did so, another would always follow the last. An unending torment to his agony-filled suffering.


    What would his brother think of him now? What would he say if he saw his brother committing this act? Would he encourage him or dissuade him from this dark path?


    There was no satisfaction in his role, just a surfeit of pain and guilt.


    He remembered what the eccentric Raug had told him as he and the others began preparing the camp. At that moment, he felt as though his soul was stripped of its covering; bare to the eyes of that stranger.


    As he walked towards me, mana coalesced around him in a colorless integument. His helm looking in my direction. The only way to know where he intended to go was from the ever-burning red eyes that shined through the helms eyeholes. Piercing into my heart, as though he could see my emotions as a tangible thing.


    Stopping before me, he stayed silent. While I was too afraid to even move. Cattle in front of a dragon. As I looked into his eyes again, the first thing that I could see was¡­ the look of someone enthralled. Bewitched by a beauty unmatched.


    I had started to relax, feeling as though he would not harm me. That is until he spoke,


    "Your wrath is a beautiful thing. Even more so when it surrounded by your immense grief."


    My heart had stopped at that statement, but what followed it is the cause of my greatest dilemma. Words that seemed to echo infinitely in my mind. The reason for my great guilt.


    "It drives you to accomplish things you could have never done. Yet, you forget to ask yourself a simple question when you act upon it. What would he think?"


    The world shattered around him. The only sound he could hear was the constant drumming of his beating heart. All others seemed to escape him.


    Having been tortured enough, Undiel finally came to a decision. He threw away the poison he carried into the river they camped near.


    If the General, Harold Winsten, is meant to die tonight, then let it be with honor. That would be what his dearest brother would have wanted.


    Turning around he headed to where he knew Troyis was hiding. Waiting for him to reach this decision by himself. Constantly supporting him from afar. A guardian and a¡­ a father he never had.


    Undiel knew he had to move on. His brother would have laughed at the miserable state he was in. He would have told him to be a man; to move on with life.


    "Undiel, ''uov finished? You took ''uor time relieving ''uorself! A party is wai''ing for ous! A time of joy ''nd dancing ''nd drinking! Let''s go."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Hollered Troyis with a massive smile, as he noticed Undiel walking towards his hiding spot.


    Smiling back, he replied, "Yes, I need a drink!"


    <hr>


    He couldn''t control himself. There was an undeniable urge to tell the Monkeykin-named Undiel- what he thought of the beautiful emotions he conveyed.


    Although he was full of anger and sadness, he still was able to live a satisfactory life. Not allowing his emotions to control him. Able to work for a goal; to pay back the debt he owed. That more than anything made him special.


    And it made Harold a vital contributor to this splendor. The fact that they acted per his desires made Azeal''s respect for Harold grow. Yet, Undiel needed to be reminded of that fact lest he makes an irreversible mistake.


    Hopping of buttercup, he petted her head. Whispering to her, he made sure she stayed in her spot. Undiel would be quite intimidated to see the Oel with a bad attitude stomping behind him. She was the scariest thing Azeal had ever seen. Fortunately or unfortunately, she was extremely fond of him.


    Looking around, they were situated in a meadow a few hundred feet away from the road. Azeal watched as Harold''s entourage set up their intricate camp systematically. Each knowing their role and how to do it.


    After searching for a while, Azeal found Undiel and a regular guard setting up a medium sized tent near the outskirts of the camp. Knowing the emotions running rampant in him, he guessed the shelter was for Undiel. Far away from everyone else to bask in his loneliness.


    Walking towards him, he watched the fluttering cloak of sadness covering the Monkeykin. It was beautiful in ways Azeal could never put into words. The quote, a picture speaks a thousand words, seemed very appropriate at that moment. Without noticing he was already standing in front of Undiel for an indiscernible amount of time.


    Azeal watched as a faint tint of grayish green for nervousness and purplish red of fear seem to grow from his sternum. Constantly changing shape and getting smaller. Bewitched by the allure, he watched for a few seconds more. Willing to allow the silence to extend.


    Having noticed Undiel''s continuous squirming under Azeal''s gaze, he decided to breach the topic he was here for.


    "Your wrath is a beautiful thing. Even more so when it surrounded by your immense grief."


    Speaking with as much sincerity he could possibly convey, Azeal continued,


    "It drives you to accomplish things you could have never done. Yet, you forget to ask yourself a simple question when you act upon it. What would he think?"


    Speaking his piece, and accomplishing his goal of reminding him of Harold''s watchful gaze, Azeal walked away. Satisfied with his work.


    <hr>


    Sitting in his pavilion, Azeal watched the vast emotions conveyed during the late night party the people of this camp were having. It had been a few hours since he had spoken with Undiel. The changes happening in his emotional scape were astonishing.


    Gone were the anger and wrath. It was replaced by great grief and acceptance. Azeal, before this, thought that emotions were equally beautiful. He had seen anger, joy, fear, and sadness, but never had he seen this before. He saw acceptance in its embracing grasp¡­ then he saw content in its constant thrumming of colors¡­ then love in its encompassing beauty.


    They were in a league by themselves. A stratum separate from all other emotions. Each special in their own way.


    Oh! They were angelic in their essence; divine in their beauty!


    It was after that when he saw it. He witnessed it in its most hideous visage. Azeal thought that all emotions were beautiful, yet, he was proven wrong again. He saw the destroyer of dreams; the killer of passions.


    He saw death.


    As he watched the party through the covering of his pavilion, he noticed something out of place. Moved away from the enjoyment of spectating the emotions, he focused on the grass fields.


    ''Hmm, is the grass supposed to have emotions?''


    As he continued to watch, the emotions they conveyed was different. It was filled with something malicious. There was no beauty in it. It was ugly and appalling; constantly morphing into different abstract shapes. Dirty browns and horrid purples surrounded their carriers. They were filled with the intent to hurt and abuse. Filled with the intent to kill.


    It was then that he finally saw what made him furious beyond anything he had ever felt. He watched as those poor excuses of emotions came near one of beauty¡­ and snuffed the lights it had conveyed. Killing the sentry that had felt longing and loneliness.


    Leaving only death! A dark and a dull grey was all that remained.


    Jumping to his feet, Azeal became lost in his fury. Lost in the same unknown feeling he had felt during his spar against Harold, but at the same time, it was more.


    Rushing out, he roared with all his might as he raised his greatsword towards the tall grass fields. His sudden appearance caused the drinking and dancing to halt momentarily as they watched him charge towards the unknown. The only one to understand what had happened was Roland who sat a bit away from the party.


    Getting up from his seated position, Roland grabbed his staff as he spoke with urgency,


    "Harold! We are being attacked!"

 Ch 19 | The Wish for no Light in the Darkness

    Darkness; Its void impenetrable.


    Existing in oblivion for a period of time, Azeal finally opened his eyes. Only to find darkness completely engulfing him. Panicking at the lack of sight, whether it be mundane or magical, he swerveed his body around to find something noticeable; something different.


    Yet, no matter the effort he put in, the darkness pursued him. Enduring all attempts made to get rid of it. Coming close to his breaking point, Azeal could not keep his unusual calm.


    He tried screaming, but no sound came out. He tried striking the shadows, but they only bent and wrapped around them.


    No No No! I need to get out! I have to get out!


    Just as he was breaking down, he shut his eyes as though they would make a difference. But this time around, he concentrated with all his might on a single thing; an individual need. The need to get out.


    As he did so, this dark world began to shake and vibrate in irregular rhythms. Only then did Azeal notice there was no ground to stand on, nor were there any form of boundaries. He was floating in it. Floating in absolute darkness.


    As the shaking continued, a single crack came into being in front of him. The longer the irregular vibrations continued, the more it grew. Branching out into a hundred other smaller cracks, until they created a mosaic.


    Reaching his hand out to touch the window like an apparition, it shattered completely at his touch. Falling down like a million stars deemed the world worthy of their light.


    Behind it all was a strange glowing orb slowly pulsing. Covering his eyes at the sudden change in light, Azeal chose to see what the sphere was. As he got closer though, the flashes of light started to speed up in sync with him. Finding this odd, he stopped and began to take a few steps back to test his theory. He was correct, every time he walked farther from it, the pulsing slowed.


    Coming to a decision, he ran towards the orb hoping the increase would not cause it to malfunction.


    But, once he made it there, he found himself wishing he never came near it. Falling to his knees, his tears began to flow down his cheeks. His heartbreaking at the what he was being shown. The scene was continually changing with every pulse of light.


    Every time it changed it showed¡­ death.


    A scene of him killing and destroying the things he sought to protect. The longer he watched the orb, the more he saw the dull and dark grey of death in his emotional sight. One after another he killed; forever removing their beautiful emotions from this world.


    No matter how much malice had contaminated their emotions in those moments, they all changed into a beautiful form before they died. They turned into fear, longing, and even one had¡­ had love in its heart.


    That last death caused him an incredible amount of grief and sadness. He had snuffed out a carrier of love. A vessel of absolute beauty! For every carrier of love killed, another out in the world would lose its divinity all because he could not control his rage.


    Screaming heart-wrenching cries, Azeal could not hold his pain any longer. He bawled at the senseless death he had caused. At the loss of emotions taken from this world.


    As his sobbing continued, a sudden splashing sound resounded in his mind. Looking behind him, a continuous splattering of red fell from the void onto an unperceivable floor. As he watched, it continued for a while until it stopped. Only then did he have the courage to see what the massive puddle of red liquid was.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Reaching his hand out, it felt visceral. Bring a finger he dabbed into the liquid to his mouth; a certain metallic taste exploded into his mouth. Falling back into a seated position, Azeal hurriedly crawled away from the blood that now inhibited this dark world.


    ''Ding''


    System ¨C


    Skill ¨C


    Blind Emotion - High Tiered (High)


    Power gained is Power paid ¨C Until the Price is adequate you will not have the right to use this skill. It may cost much, but to many, it is worth the price paid. Is that true for you?


    - Locked ¨C three conditions must be met -


    - Condition 1 ¨C ''The simplest of the three, it is not a price, but a confirmation of your ability.''


    - Face an opponent a minimum of twenty-five levels above you and not die.


    - Unlocked - Emotion Sight - You sense all emotions, every ounce of joy, sadness, and hate. Here you must find balance, for failing to will destroy your weakened mind. Making you nothing more than an insane creature, having lost all modicum of thought. But, if you make it past the pain and suffering, then rejoice in the glory of your success!


    - Condition 2 ¨C A price in blood must be paid. Sacrifices for you, because without it you will have no power! It is a great cost, but worth it in the end¡­ or is it?


    -For every death caused by your hand, a splash of blood will appear in your mental scape. Until the eventual happens and it has become filled with the sacrifices you have brought. Worry not, once your mental scape has become filled, the blood will be used to power your final skill.


    - 176/??????


    - Condition 3 ¨C ''¡­''


    <hr>


    "Harold! We are being attacked!"


    Roland''s urgent call broke Lana and Aifen out of their loving embrace. For most of the night, they had hidden away from prying eyes to bask in the love they had for each other. But, most importantly, to hide from her father''s wrath.


    Theirs was a forbidden love. Of a master and her slave. Of two unequal beings, each born into different worlds. Yet, they had decided that no matter the cost, no matter who stood in their way, or what her father and family demanded they would never be forced apart.


    Lana would make sure of it! She would run away if the need arose, consequences be damned! They could escape into the BeastKin Kingdom and open a famous restaurant to live in peace.


    Getting up, Lana hurriedly put on her clothes and armor with Aifen''s help. After a few kisses and nuzzles, she pushed him away,


    "Aifen! I would love to continue this moment for eternity, but I have duties to keep if we wish this a secret to not spread to my father! Now, put on your clothes and grab your huge butcher knife you call a sword and meet me near father!"


    Aifen smiled his usual silly smile, the one Lana had fallen in love with many years ago,


    "Yes, my love, but a kiss for luck! Please!"


    Giggling, Lana embraced him and put every ounce of love she could in it.


    Breaking apart, she got up and ran away towards where the commotion was building. Making sure she brushed her hair down before she was in view of any wandering soul.


    As she saw her father, she returned to her practiced stoic and serious expression. Luckily she was already at the back of the formation when she came of their hiding spot. Her father stood tall next to Menadril, a StagKin her father freed from the Colosseum with the other three beastkin. Unlike the others who were well-known warriors, he was a mage of great capability. One of the greatest he had ever met, her father once said to her.


    Trying to maintain her expression she saw Aifen running towards them from the other side of the camp with his signature sword, made personally for him by her father as a gift for his loyalty. It was hard not to smile, but she succeeded at it.


    "Father, who is attacking us?" She asked seriously,


    Her father seemed lost in his thoughts, not hearing her the first or second time she repeated herself. Finally coming to a decision, she looked to where her father was staring at. As she tried to see past the fighting, a resounding roar sounded out deep in enemy lines. Activating her skill enhanced sight, she looked past the front line held by the three beastkin her father freed and to where the roar came from.


    There, in the center of a magical storm, was the Raug they had found on their path towards Thols. A center of darkness and fire blasting out while earth spikes killed the assaulting and unusually well-armored bandits.


    Lana could not believe her eyes, what was in front of her was not the childish idiot Roland nursed back to health. Nor was he the competent warrior that had sparred with her father for the duration of a few seconds.


    He was death incarnate. With a wave of his hand, droves of men died. She feared looking into his eyes, but she had an indescribable urge to do so.


    Yet, she did not find what she expected. There was no coldness in his eyes. No apathy towards the death of the bandits. No rage or hate.


    She found him with tears streaming down his eyes. As though he cared about the bandits; their evil lives were with meaning...?


    She could not fathom what could be going through the Raug''s mind.


    Lana found him incredibly naive.

 Ch 20 | The Carrier of Love

    Journal - Genarius Jakis -


    Found in the aftermath of the Mercenaries ambush -


    Dear Huma,


    I have come to stand in tall grass remembering the day I asked for your hand in marriage. I remember how shocked you were. As though the possibility was ever so fleeting. But what made the moment more memorable was the tears of joy you shed as I kneeled in front of you and your family.


    My beating heart, I fear I may never see you again. My soul might travel on, for I could not deny my latest employer. His station was too high, and his wrath, if denied, would be the end of us. If you do not hear from me again, then know I have passed. For I was sent to kill a legend - an undefeatable foe.


    I know how stubborn you are, remember when I tried buying that carriage. Oh, how adamant you were that I leave it there. No matter how hard I tried, or what sweet words I spewed, your stance was unshakable. I remember the way you looked at me with that exasperated look. How your beautiful green eyes twitched every time I said the words carriage and money. I will always remember that day.


    Know that If I die, that I demand you move on in life. That you find someone to care for you and our child. If you not for me, then please, do it for our only one. He needs a father to teach him the ways of the world, while you need a firm hand to keep you up right when the many storms hit your resolve.


    Know that in the last moments, whatever they may be, I will remember your love fondly.


    Your Love,


    Leader of the Golden Wings Mercenary Band - Genarius Jakis


    <hr>


    The mental scape shattered and Azeal found himself standing alone in the center of the battlefield. All mercenaries dead, while Harold''s entourage stood a far away. Warry of the stranger that he had become. Fear and awe rolled off them like massive tidal waves, attempting to devour him. But of them all, one had great pity for him. That single soul grounded Azeal. Helping him return, mentally, to the world he once panicked to return to. To stand in once again.


    Now, he wished there had been no light in the absolute darkness that had engulfed him.


    He looked down to see his sword piercing the belly of a single mercenary. The one death that caused him more pain than any other. He stood in front of the carrier of love he eternally removed from this world.


    Blood and gore covered Azeal completely, a slow and deliberate rhythm of blood drops echoed in his mind. As he watched the body silently, his eyes slowly rose, until he met the dead eyes of the man.


    They had no light, forever to remain darkened.


    The mercenary had a scruffy beard, as though he had not shaved for a while. And hair cut short then spiked up in a wild parody of a character in a show he had watched long ago.


    Azeal fell heavily to his knees. Bending his back forward, he cradled his helm, covering his face with his blood-soaked hands and cried. For he was the killer of a divine emotion, one filled with genuine passion. He did not know who that man was, but that mattered not to him. For his death was nothing but a product of circumstance! It didn''t matter what his past was, for any carrier of love can be redeemed!Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    As he bawled, lost in his pain, a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. Looking up, he found Harold staring at the rising sun.


    ¡°I do not understand your pain,¡± he began, pausing to let his words mellow in Azeal¡¯s mind,


    ¡°But always remember that death is not the end. It is a new beginning, to start over again. I do not know what your connection is with this one, but he probably was an evil man considering he was a bandit. Committing acts horrific, destroying men and women alike. Causing the living to die on the inside; their eyes no different than his now. So maybe he can redeem himself in another life. To make up for his many sins.¡±


    Sniffing audibly, Azeal nodded, understanding that though he might have killed this beautiful soul, it will return one day to spread its love and joy again. Patting Azeal¡¯s shoulders, Harold continued oblivious to the struggle he faced,


    ¡°Death is inevitable and killing even more so in our accursed world. If we do not fight, then we are silent. And silence is consent. If we do not stand in front of the evil that plagues the lands, then who will? Who would stand for the weak, the poor, the innocent, and the unfortunate, if not we? It is why I fight. Why I will never lose a battle; for I know that if I do, someone out in the world will despair at the storm the world throws their way. Unable to survive. So stand,¡±


    Harold grabbed Azeal by the shoulders and pulled him up, hiding his struggle to lift him.


    ¡°Stand with your back straightened and never bent! For we fight for those that cannot fight for themselves! Have pride in that and continue to live strong and free.¡±


    Turning around, Harold walked away. Leaving Azeal alone with his thoughts. Firming his strengthened resolve, he grabbed his great sword. Holding onto it for a while to remember this moment; etching it onto his mind. He will remind himself constantly of the carrier of love he had slain on this day because of his rage, because of his¡­


    Because of his Blind Emotion.


    <hr>


    ¡°You lied to him. Falsehood spewed from your mouth without end.¡± Roland spoke with an edge to his voice. One thing that Harold knew of his dear friend was the need for honesty.


    ¡°I told him what he needed to hear. I could not let him fall into darkness and trauma.¡±


    Harold was determined to keep the lie going on. He could not tell Azeal that the one he had killed was an honorable man. A kind soul that filled the world with light.


    Looking into his friend''s eyes, he did not find the usual softness and empathy they usually held. No, they were heated with anger and indignation. Something quite unusual for his calm demeanor.


    ¡°There are other ways to bring someone out of the darkness. You run a fine line, Harold. What will you do when he finds out who Genarius Jakis was?! Of the good things that he had constantly done!¡±


    Hardening his eyes, he stared at Roland in silence for a period of time. He waited until his friend¡¯s resolve wavered just a bit to speak. And after a few minutes, it did.


    ¡°I know the consequences and the outcomes are extremely dire, but you know not what I had seen.¡±


    Pausing again to let his words sink in, he continued,


    ¡°He had the eyes of a broken man. I do not know what has happened to him in his past nor what his demons are, but they haunt him profoundly. I could not in good conscience let him fall into despair!¡±


    Straining his hands, the journal he held, creek from the pressure. It was a small journal, with a cover that was completely black. And a leather strip that that bind it closed. The only thing on it that made it unique was the name it held - Genarius Jakis. It was filled with the world from his eyes. And a story of love that would make even the cold-hearted smile. It was a journal of a man filled with love¡­


    ¡°What of the book? What will you do with it? Will you run the risk of Azeal finding it?¡± Roland asked, unwilling to relent in his demand.


    Harold stared at it, and spoke with solemnity, having come to a decision,


    ¡°There was no book found.¡±


    Tossing the book into the burning flame they argued near, they both watched it burn; watched it turn into ash.

 Ch 21 | Resolve

    Azeal walked away from the dead body. His heart in turmoil, but his eyes had become resolved in its path. Walking away was but the result of his soul''s inner judgment. It was arduous, but it was something he had to accomplish.


    The hardest part wasn''t pulling the sword out. Nor was it tearing his eyes away from the dead man''s cold eyes.


    No, it was turning away. Turning his back on the carrier of love. It became a sign of acceptance; that no matter what, Azeal would live a legacy worth the emotions he had slain.


    Every last one.


    He did not know how. Or what his overarching goal should be to achieve this, but he knew one thing for sure. He would reach it as he built his eternal fortress.


    As he built his home.


    He continued his gauntlet of emotional struggle and resolve. Walking passed many soldier that paved a path for him. Removing the bodies of the dead, and moving themselves out of the way in the process.


    Azeal''s eyes began to shine its usual brightness; a brilliant red that seemed to follow him. Leaving its mark in the world. He stood straighter, because no matter the pain he suffered, there will always be beauty in the world to bring him back. No matter how far gone he had been.


    His Emotion Sight kicked in, as though it knew what he desired. The dark and dull landscape that surrounded him before did so again. But this time its effects were negligent in contrast to its previous might.


    This time he saw the lights. Each shining amid the bleakness that covered the battlefield; giving beauty to the dark world once again. He saw them all, fear, righteous anger, sadness, and grief.


    Each carving its own space in the world once again.


    Azeal walked, each step a reaffirmation that he would not let despair overcome him.


    Azeal walked, with purpose he strode onwards. Seeing again, acceptance, content, and love in their divine beauty.


    He could not stop his forward march. The momentum had begun to build. And its end goal is where he faced his greatest struggle. His tent, an island by itself. An unperceivable barrier surrounding it. All other tents stationed far away in a circle.


    Azeal could not stop it anymore. His dark feelings were being eroded by the constant thrumming of the emotions he witnessed.


    He did what he thought impossible, at least for the time being.


    He smiled, and it was a genuine smile.


    <hr>


    She watched as Dendar Orbes sat in an opulent room. Enjoying fine wines and an elven cuisine. Intricate salads and candied nuts of various kinds were showcased on the many platters he had laid. They all sat on plates of gold and bowls of silver, upheld on a table of the most expensive wood any can put their hands.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    He sat enjoying himself on the things his greed had demanded. How he got the elven food was not a mystery. No, it was a tale of sorrow and separation. An elven couple; their marriage destroyed. It was meant to sate the hunger of a madman.


    Outcasts from their hidden forests, they ran together to fulfill their love. Ending up in a domain far away from their original home. One with promises of peace, prosperity, and acceptance. They came here with hope and a better life together. A beacon of light for those that ran from the black-hearted.


    Yet, they knew not of the darkness in the shadows created by that shining beacon of hope. They knew not of the duke - filled with greed. One with an unending hunger for what he had not.


    The groom - killed as he defended the soul of his heart. The bride - taken to sate an evil desire.


    Broken and lacking all hope, she latched onto the only thing that helped her survive. She had a skill, something the most powerful would have desired. Something no one had seen ever since the forest elves closed their homes from the outside world so long ago.


    She was a cook - a magical gourmet. One of the few that had once fed the Royal line. She was a proud artist of delicious elven delicacies.


    But, now she was nothing but a weak and broken woman. Willing to please her master no matter how demanding his desires lest she be punished again. Anything but being punished again.


    Shivering in recollection of the horrors she had seen. Of the abuse, she had been subjected too. She waited, eyes downcast, as he ate.


    She stood there, as he smacked his lips in content. Eating the food she swore to only make for her soulmate.


    "It is absolutely wonderful, Veristia. Absolutely wonderful!"


    The destroyer of her soul exclaimed. Her gaunt face showed no emotion at his praise.


    Emotions, they were things she had forgotten how to convey so long ago.


    "This s.. slave is meant to serve." She replied with what he had forcefully carved into her feeble mind. A testimony to what she was now - a slave.


    She stood there within arms reach of him. Her hands were hidden behind her back, for they shivered without stop, fearing the man sitting no more than a three feet away.


    He suddenly looked up and stared at her. Veristia''s heart skipped a beat. And fear took control of her mind, but she kept her outer look the epitome of servitude. Head lowered, back bent - tilted forward a bit, and eyes downcast.


    As she waited, he suddenly smiled. One she was familiar with.


    ''No No No!''


    She cried in her mind, but her outer look stayed unchanged. It was the smile that grew on his face every time he forced himself upon her. It was the smile of a devil.


    He reached forward to grab her. Intent on defiling her once again. To remind her of the lover she had lost long ago; forever to be replaced by this evil human.


    He began at her shoulders massaging them, caressing her smooth skin. He bit her long pointy ears, something he tended to enjoy, and she hated more than anything else.


    But, as he was about to continue in his demonic act. A subtle and rhythmic drumming noise sounded out from within his robes. His look of confusion was clear then a certain light of recognition flashed. And lastly, an enormous grin broke out once again.


    "Just wait, my dear, I will be back to enjoy your company."


    He turned to walk away, and as he did so, he reached into his pocket. Pulling out a communication stone, he froze a dozen steps away from her. Time seemed to still at the implication of his simple act.


    Without warning, Dendar screamed at the top of his lungs until his voice became hoarse. It was an unholy cry that made her ears hurt. His hands tightened around the stone, shaking in an uncontrollable rage. He screamed again, this time much more reserved. Throwing the stone, with a skill to enhance his strength, it shattered on the reinforced walls that surround this room.


    Looking to her, his eyes burned with undisguised hatred.


    "Get out! Get out!" He yelled at her, making her flinch subconsciously.


    She took advantage of the moment to get away from this evil man. Her last thought as she exited the room, were thoughts of gratitude to whoever caused him such anger. In their failure and soon to be punishment, she found herself saved from the clutches of that man.


    At least for the time being.

 Ch 22 | Fort Chylium

    Fort Chylium of the Red Mountain - Border fort against the Dark Orc Hordes -


    Boom Dum Dum Boom


    Boom Dum Dum Boom


    Boom Dum Dum Boom


    Titus the Red Mountain of Fort Chylium stood frozen on his mighty walls. Sweat crawled down his back, and his mouth was agape. Fear had captured his heart and caged it in its intractable prison.


    Marching forward was a vast ocean beyond anything that has ever been recorded. Dark orcs, with numbers untold, advanced towards the in-lands. His fort nothing but a nuisance meant to be crushed. His life and the life of everyone here were nothing but the stepping stones of a vastly superior force.


    There were stories of the Great General Harold¡¯s battle in Venral, of how he withstood a force over ten folds his number. How he had used tactics any would have scoffed at before the battle. But, that was nothing but a legend acted by a legend.


    Something beyond his ability.


    He had been told once that on the edge, the closest one can get to death without passing away, your life and everything you experienced would seem to flash before you. The man had called it The Retelling. When it happens, a sequence would always be followed. All your mistakes and choices were at the forefront. Then comes your greatest regrets. And lastly, your happiest moments.


    Then, he had thought it was the speech of a madman; one who had lost their sanity. Broken by the darkness of war and death. But now, it seemed to be happening. It wasn''t a physical manifestation, but rather an image in the background. Transparent, it was only him that could see it.


    His life was flashing before him. His death; a fact he knew to be true.


    But, it was more than a declaration of his imminent passing. It was a testimony to himself. Titus the Red Mountian - He of No Fear - was afraid. The only thing he prided himself on had been stripped away from him.


    He was afraid.


    Voice cracking he prayed to whatever gods would hear his pitiful call. Be they of darkness or light, remembered or forgotten, as long as they answered his call.


    He prayed for strength and courage, but no answer seemed forthcoming. He prayed for battle lust so that he may lose himself in the rhythmic dance of death. Yet, none deemed him worthy. He asked for possession of his vessel, but it was as though they all knew his was a lost cause. His final hope was for the battle to come and have... Perseverance.


    It hit him like an avalanche. A cold shower within the scorching heat of a desert.


    A voice, motherly in nature, called out to him. Answering his desperate call. No words were spoken, just a melodious tune wafting out of her lips. But it spoke a million words to Titus. Words of hidden truths and laws.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    She spoke, and it was ofWarin its eternal beauty. Then of Redemption - forgiveness for our sins. And finally, of Perseverance - that which keeps us going.


    They called out to Titus¡¯s soul like no other. Cords strung taunt then played by the gentle hands of a master.


    Eyes hardening back to their usual outlook, he turned around to look at the defenders of this fort. The warriors that would stem the tide. He looked at the walls around him.


    There he saw his private army shaking in their positions. All across the mighty walls, their shoulders were slumped. Swords and spears lowered. The few that manned the defensive fortifications had seemed to have forgotten the death and destruction they could bring with the release of a wire or the lighting of a string. They manned Mana Cannons but had no courage. It was not befitting their station. Of the power, they held within their grasps.


    Every so often some would puke from fear while others emptied their bowels. Their terror was as evident as the moon on a clear night.


    Gone were the elites he had trained for many years, and replacing them were cowards filled with fear. A mirror of what he had been just moments ago. It made him shiver at the prospect of being seen in such a miserable state. To look on without hope of seeing the light of tomorrow.


    He knew if they stayed this way as the tide barreled their way to them. Then their deaths were guaranteed. No, they must stand firm as mountains! The namesake of their leader and their home.


    ¡°Hear me, my soldiers! Soldiers of the Red Mountain!¡± He screamed with unhidden fury at their stances. Fury at how quickly they forgot what he had carved into their souls.


    He stared for a few seconds more, making sure he had the attention of every man, women, and child. Then he spoke with authority, demanding their cooperation.


    ¡°We stand on the cusp of history; it in the making. And we are what decide the final outcome. Will our stand be forgotten in the annals of times? Just another stepping stone; crushed under the tide! Or will we be remembered for eternity? Glory ours and no others! Know that I will stand tall until the very end. Whether it be my death or my victory, I shall Stand! Will you stand with me?!¡±


    Taking a deep breath, he waited for it. Oh, he knew it was coming, and he would let it wash over him; strengthening his shaken resolve. A bath in a pure, ever-flowing river


    It started small then grew as it passed from one soldier to another. Within seconds it was a mighty roar that shook the ground. A single statement that defined these soldiers. Five words that created a powerful identity.


    His and the fort¡¯s identity.


    We of the Red Mountain!


    We of the Red Mountain!


    We of the Red Mountain!


    They called with vigor and passion. Their loyalty to the Red Mountain evident within their voices. Loyalty to those that had taken them from the slums and darkness of the world - whether they be man, elf, or beastkin - and showed them the light. The hope they had all forgotten even existed.


    Satisfied with the result and fervor of his warriors, he turned around to look onto the field. This time he saw different. There was no unbeatable tide. Their numbers were not an advantage for the fort had enough ammunition and food to last for three years.


    No, this time he saw warriors marching towards them; towards their doom. Their waves will break on these walls, regardless of how many are sent.


    They will be forced to go around the mountain that is Fort Chylium. For this one is too high to climb and too sturdy to dig through.


    Slowly whispering the unspoken words, the melody sung by a motherly voice, Titus readied himself for the first battle.


    ¡°We are those that stand the storms of war, everlasting. Redemption we seek in its comforting embrace. But, it is through perseverance do we come out victorious. For, I, Fenia, watch over my children. Watch over them all.¡±

 Ch 23 | Everyone Has a Hidden Story

    After the battle and Azeal¡¯s baptism, they had a funeral to recognize the lives lost in battle whether they be a bandit or otherwise. They all stood, shoulder to shoulder, with their heads tilted downwards. Some with tears flowing their eyes, while others quietly stood with solemnity. They heard the speech of a master healer as he recognized Hefita. The Gentle Goddess - The Goddess of Death and the Eternal Cycle. For only the gentlest of hands can lead the most impressionable of souls


    He then recognized Mestifar - The God of Transition. He who led the souls across the eternal void. To protect them during their journey from the evil that had manifested eons ago, or as was told by the stories.


    After Mestifar, Roland recognized Zelafia - The Sister of Hefita. The Goddess of Life and The New-Born. Praying that she leads them again to the world of the living, rather than let them freeze in the Himid - Land Of the Frozen Dead.


    He came close to ending but was interrupted, something none would have done if they knew better. Azeal¡¯s voice sounded out with depth none could have expected.


    ¡°And Fenia - She of War, of Redemption, and Perseverance.¡±


    They all stared at Azeal, as a forgotten one was called. A goddess that lived longer than any mentioned by a margin imperceivable by the common mind. One that lived through the Battle of Judgement.


    A goddess to powerful to ever act in the mortal plane.


    Roland, too afraid to deny one of the three forgotten ones, repeated Azeal with no additions. And unlike the gods mentioned before, her name caused a reaction within the visible world. That was her power. Something all three gods of life and death could not match.


    An aura of tranquility and motherly affection spread across the battlefield. Covering all who stood to witness this event.


    Roland, unlike the others, had witnessed the power of a forgotten one. It was a story he never told, not even to his blood-brother Harold. It was long ago before he entered the army.


    As a child, he was weak and always ill. Never able to play with the children lest he breaks an arm or a leg by falling. So he entertained himself by reading stories of myths and legend. Of dragonslayers and beast tamers. Each book bought by his father and mothers struggle. Coins they could have used to eat better food was used to entertain him.


    But, one day, like all sad stories, came a time where an evil came to take everything he had. To take away his family and his books. They came in and began to destroy the village he called home. One by one he witnessed the houses of his neighbors burn from his lonely perch near the window. Until they reached his. A fight ensued, his father trying to protect them from the darkness that crept towards them. Hollers of pain and anger sounded out from the house, while Roland sat in his room; the door closed.


    He had read of such evils coming to hurt others. Whether they be dragons, beasts, or man, they would all eventually fall to those that sought glory.


    His mothers scream sounded out, from the hall. There she screamed words unfamiliar to the innocent boy. His mind could not decipher them. She spoke of death, of destruction, of absolute pain, and then finally she spoke the name of a forgotten one.


    ¡°May The One give Malikim the right to tear your souls from the vessels that house them. An eternal torture for them to exist in. For the pain and grief, they had caused. The One recognizes the prayer of the oppressed and the prayer of one with tear stained eyes. It is the words promised so long ago, and The One never breaks his promises. Their calls never denied; never left unanswered! The One is just, and the forgotten one Malikim is ever so cruel!¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Roland stood frozen in his room, too afraid of what he might see if he opened the door. So he walked back to his lonely perch unable to fathom what she meant, or what could cause her to speak such words. His mother was a gentle soul; kind and spoke ever so sweetly.


    A sudden scream filled with pain caused him to cover his ears. It was his mothers, as a child of six years, he had never encountered death or the painful cries it caused. So he covered his ears traumatized.


    A deep voice was then heard unlike any the boy had ever witnessed. Filled with power and majesty.


    ¡°The Prayer of the oppressed and the tear-filled eyes is never denied. I, a messenger, come to give you your tidings. The answer to your prayers. The One has made an exception, Malikim was given release from his restraints to fulfill your request. But, you are close to the end. Your soul tied to a lonely tether straining against all the odds. Your child left alone will not survive. So power and wisdom will be bestowed. The power of Malikim and its opposite - The Power of Withering and Healing.¡±


    Hearing these words, Roland looked out the window; the world began to change. It was no longer so bright and happy.


    And he, no longer the innocent child he had been moments ago. He looked out and saw a figure in the sky filled with withering powers. So, he assumed it was Malikim. He watched as everything within hundreds of meters suddenly turned into ash; withering.


    Every human, animal, tree, and building turned to ash.


    <hr>


    After the funeral, Azeal watched Roland walk into the tall grasses. He had wanted to ask him ere they were headed but did not get the chance.


    He decided to speak with Harold who was standing to the side talking with his daughters - Lana and Sara. As he walked closer, a heated debate was being had.


    Hoping he wasn''t interrupting something important he cleared his throat when he was close enough to be heard.


    With a sudden jerk, all three whirled around to stare at him with narrowed eyes.


    ¡°Oh, Azeal it''s you. Take me away from these young ones lest they cause me suffering!¡± Harold seemed to frown and placed his hand on his heart.


    Sara laughed at her father''s antics, ¡°Father, stop being so dramatic. We are trying to be serious here. When we reach Thols, we cannot be confrontational with the Franks lest others call us petty and simple-minded. We are taking a major portion of the economy built around a thriving mining operation. Within a decade we could even have enough wealth to challenge your original noble house.¡±


    Smiling, Azeal forgot that he was wearing a helm, so his expressions could not be seen. He had wanted to speak to them about where they were headed, and they were conveniently already discussing it.


    ¡°I have never been to Thols, or heard of it. What is it like?¡± Questioned Azeal, trying to sound genuinely interested in the topic.


    As Sara began to speak animatedly about how boring a border city with an economy based on mining was, Lana was staring at Azeal. It had become extremely uncomfortable the longer it was held, but he did not want to cause any issues with Harold¡¯s family.


    Zoning back in he caught the final part of what Sara had been saying,


    ¡°... So basically, it will have really high walls, a lot of smoke from the blacksmith district, and heck loads of slave traders selling their wares. Lots of warriors and mercenary bands come to Thols for the weapons and rare metals that could be found there. So the slavers would sell all types of things to sate the needs of the wanderers.¡±


    Having been caught off guard, he could not form a response to the nonchalant way she had phrased slavers and their Things being sold. But, before he could gather his thoughts and ask about how it was even allowed, Roland strolled out of the tall grasses looking a bit downcast.


    Something no one was used to seeing. Taking advantage of the moment Harold, changed the subject and pulled his daughters away towards Roland. Leaving Azeal by himself with his thoughts in turmoil.


    Slavery.


    It was something Harold hinted at when they stood in front of the carrier of love. He spoke of people with the same eyes as the dead man while they were alive. Of emotions killed or locked away not to feel suffering. Off the lack of light within those that could have been beautiful.


    It was another struggle he would have to face. And it would cause him great pain.


    Looking up to the sky, he wondered if Fenia could feel what he had felt. Her motherly aura had been present during the funeral because she had been called upon, but did she know of the struggles he faced. Of the agony, he had gone through. And that which he will go through.


    ¡°Fenia, if you hear me now, then know I will not give up. And I will build my home and your cathedrals.¡±

 Ch 24 | Dark Tidings

    Fifteen days and fifteen nights, they held strong. Reminiscent of the greatest warriors. A mountain insurmountable. Wave after wave crashed onto their walls without remorse.


    And they broke every time with no exception.


    An uncountable number of corpses laid bare to the world. All under the imposing shadows of Fort Chylium. Theirs was a mighty a stand. To be remembered throughout history. To be remembered as they who stemmed the tide; no matter for how long.


    None would have expected them to last. Not even for a day, yet, they lasted for fifteen. Messages crossed the land. Reaching all major cities. The people heard of their fearless stand. So they prayed for success.


    They continued to pray for the impossible.


    It was as though they all had forgotten how cruel a mistress the world was. She let no being escape her vindictive grasps. She left no one untouched, no matter who they may be. Legends were killed or forever traumatized, the righteous man corrupted, and the innocent - their purity stripped away from them without mercy.


    That was her way, her lasting mark on the those that destroy her beauty.


    And it was the same for Titus the Red Mountain - He of Fort Chylium. His valor and struggle meant nothing in her eyes. No leeway made for him, nor his warriors.


    For no matter how sturdy a mountain may be, through time its surface becomes eroded. Weathered away by the ever-flowing water that rages on continuously. Or the ever dropping droplets of rain that drop constantly dripping. Carving deep into its belly.


    It is but the nature of the world. And the nature of time itself.


    No matter how long it takes, the mighty will fall. And in their ashes, others will grow. A cycle that will last to infinity.


    Titus, on the morning of the sixteenth day, was not seen on his usual perch surveiling the battlefield. He was not in the command tent near the bailey of the fort. Nor was he on the walls helping to kill the latest tide that thought they were this forts match.


    As the soldiers swung with heavy hands, the archers with blistered fingers, and the wielders of the defensive fortifications their minds eroding at the death they caused.


    Titus was in his bed.


    Unmoving, as he laid to rest.


    Pale from its lack.


    From the lack of blood.


    There he laid in his bed chambers. The inside of his throat greeting the world; openly and completely dry. While the blood that had filled it covered the surroundings. Dyeing it a scarlet color. Almost matching the light red that was his home. The color of his ¡®mountain¡¯, his fort, and his people.


    Titus looked serene in his moments. Confident in his path to glory. His eyes closed, laying perfectly on his back. While his thick blankets covered him, trying to do its best to keep him warm.


    The only other occupant in the room simply stood there. For hours after the deed, he stood there. Watching as the blood flowed out and crawled ever so slowly on the floor. Then hardening into its usual texture. He watched, confused at the serenity his target had died in.


    He had been told that great men died the most miserable of deaths. Unwilling to accept that they too will die an unsatisfying death at the hands of an assassin. Stolen novel; please report.


    The assassin, pulled his mask off, only to reveal that it was a she. With dark purple hair; one would believe it was black if they were not to look closely.


    This was the first time she had killed anyone or anything. No matter how minuscule the being was. It was forbidden to kill without command from He Who¡¯s Darkness Shall Brighten The Way. Without a command from the King himself. And there''s were lives he would never send unless success was guaranteed.


    A small tear slowly crawled down from her left eyes and then down her cheek. She knew what it had meant to take this commision from the King once he heard of how long their mission was being delayed and how many had died attempting to breach this fort. She knew of what she had to do.


    She had been taught, so young, that the greatest glory was to kill the soul she is meant to take with her to the life beyond. But, at that moment she felt pity for those that had come before her, and those to come after. More tears began to fall as the soul of he who called himself Titus finally merged with her. It narrated its own tale, teaching her everything it had known.


    ¡°Why?¡± She whispered to herself. Demanding an answer from those that will never hear her question. From those that had taught her.


    ¡°Why must we kill those that could stand with us against the legions from the abyss!¡± She hollered forgetting where she was. In her mind, this man could have saved so many lives if he had been fighting with them.


    ¡°Sisters, if only I could return and teach you what they left out. Of the truth they omitted. Of how we kill not, the demons, but those that are just like us. I¡­ I am so sorry that I cannot be there for you all.¡±


    They would learn the truth, of how those they were taught to hate were actually no different than they. With the same fears and joys. They would be broken just as she felt herself break. They were nothing like the demons that spewed from the gates to hell; within her homelands. They were regular people no matter how eccentric some of their acts may be.


    She tried to swipe away at her tears, to finish this ritual. She had dallied long enough already. But as she did so, she cut her hand on the tusks that grew from her jaw.


    Cursing quietly, she covered her face with her mask. She laid next to the human¡¯s body and hugged him like a lover.


    Words from a language forgotten began to flow from her mouth. They came in rhythms that would bewitch all who heard. The longer she continued the more the tears, hidden from the world by a dark mask, fell from her eyes.


    ¡®Ding¡¯


    System -


    Skill -


    The Assassins Final Creed - High Tiered (High)


    You are an innocent soul. Grown within an innocent world. And raised with those who are innocent as well. You were taught to kill, but never to spill the blood of others no matter how small a wound it may have been. Your only goal, to kill a single target given by a Master of the Dark. With the soul you kill, you will journey to the beyond guided by the firm hands of Mestifar.


    Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, the death of any innocent is never forgotten by The One. Have a safe journey, and hope that your next life is not as cruel.


    She closed her eyes, she felt it coming. The dark being that would lead her away, or so she was taught. She was also taught to never stare at it, or risk her soul being consumed by it.


    <hr>


    She and her lover, no matter how little of time they had together, broke up into a million bright particles. All racing to follow their guide. To continue on in the cycle of life.


    But, to the soldiers that manned the walls and the commanders that watched from below. A grim reaper soared in the sky from where their leader had been asleep; resting for the first time in fifteen days and fifteen nights. It was a sign the elders knew. Of an assassin group from myths and legend. Of those who had never failed, their targets always passing on to the next life.


    The commanders ran, hoping it was a lie. Hoping to find the last sign not present in their master''s chambers.


    One, bulkier than the others lowered his shoulder as they neared the doors that had given their leader privacy, and bulldozed through it. Nearly toppling the wall with it. In a panic, they searched the room until the wisest of them all pulled the bedsheet from its cold grave.


    It was there they found what they hoped was never to be seen. A dark metallic carving, of a man and women in a loving embrace. Of Titus and an assassin that had killed him.


    They were men hardened by war. Hardened by the deaths they had encountered. Hardened by the killing they had caused.


    Yet, they all fell to their knees as they surrounded Titus¡¯s bed. And they all cried, sobbing like children.


    They cried because Titus the Red Mountain - He of no Fear, He of Fort Chylium - had died on the sixteenth morning of battle against the tides by the hands of The Sisters Dark Tidings.

 Ch 25 | They of Pure Innocence

    It had been a while since the funeral. Azeal had finally begun to recover mentally from the suffering he had to endure. From the torture that seemed to last for eternity. He had accepted the deaths that haunted him in his sleep. Of the emotions that seemed to press down on him as they were released from this world.


    But his shoulders were strong, and the burden, in his mind, small. With the support of his¡­ of his new family, he would push past all struggles. Whether they be of his past, present, or the upcoming future.


    Especially the future.


    He knew he was going to see it in its full glory. The darkness it caused will be readily apparent to all who would just look. Those who chose to see the suffering, no matter how small, it caused to those that are within its cold grasp or those that watch it from afar.


    He would see slavery.


    He would find what he titled, the death of those living. For when Hope has no place in your heart, it shrivels and withers away. Hope is the nutrients that kept its delicate beauty lasting; the heart is the rose that can be mesmerizing, yet if left untended, will die; fading away.


    He had decided, then, that no matter how little his five gold was, he would use it to save a carrier of emotion. To bring back to them the light they had thought to be lost forever. To show them, that, in a world filled with pain and tears, there are those of kind hearts.


    Those willing to help others for nothing in return.


    He would extend his hand out, and they must reach to grab it; if they sought it.


    <hr>


    It took them nearly a month to get to Thols after the funeral. When they reached the outskirts of the city, they were met with many farms; islands in a sea of grass. But, unlike the hospitality Azeal had believed would be seen, they hurried their way towards the city.


    For the most prolonged period of time, he constantly wondered why they would move without stopping when they could ask for the housing from those with massive lands?


    When he asked Roland, he learned that they struggled more than others. Continually fending off hungry beasts and cruel-hearted men. They were suspicious of all that came near their land and any who trespassed where deemed as threats unless they carry a ducal or royal flag. Completely going against Harold''s wish of secrecy.


    As they moved on, he would glimpse the shadows of armed farmers waiting to defend their land from others. It saddened Azeal greatly to see so many traumatized almost beyond recovery. They each had long forgotten common courtesy and hospitality.


    The longer they moved, the less armed farmers they saw, and the more customarily dressed the people became. Some moved towards Thols, and others to meadows to set up camp. Only huge caravans and mercenary groups headed that way, though.


    But, what caught his attention more than anything before, were the lines of slaves that walked on the side of the paved road. All with heads hung low and back hunched; as though they carried burdens far surpassing their ability to handle. Azeal¡¯s Emotion Sight flared greater than ever before. He thought he had seen death, but this was completely different. All the emotions they had were encapsulated into a ball; an amalgamation of each they had felt, with no distinction between them all.


    The orbs of emotion hung near their stomachs, swinging around, as though they were held by a lonely string. So very close to breaking. Surrounding their emotions was a blackness that seemed like tar. Slowly circling the orb like a predator; waiting for the perfect time to strike.


    Unlike death, there was no lack of everything. No dark and dull existence. Instead, it was filled with what he intuitively knew was hopelessness and despair. They looked exactly the same, the only difference between them was the way they spun. Hopelessness spun clockwise, and despair, counter to it.


    There were those that had not been broken yet. With emotional scapes that were nearly normal. But those scared Azeal even more. They were not filled with righteous anger, wrath, or an unending hunger for vengeance. No, they were filled with hate.


    A dark and ugly red that covered their hearts, eyes, and minds. Consuming all other emotions that neared it. Azeal itched to reach out and drag the hate away from all other emotions or to jump off of Buttercup and assault the slavers. Freeing the slaves that had been broken, but he knew better. He knew it would not be easy, and that it would take a long time to help someone regain what they had lost to the blackness of hopelessness. But, he would!If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    It was a mission he was determined to accomplish no matter how long it took. He would reach out, and hope they would as well.


    Without noticing, they had reached the gates of Thols. Once Azeal broke out of his musing, he stood in awe at the size of the walls that surrounded the bustling city. He did not know how tall they were, but they seemed to be forty to fifty feet in length; that was in his uninformed opinion.


    ¡°Hold!¡± called a heavily armored guard that oozed authority.


    ¡°You have no flags raised, yet you pass the line towards the gates of Thols? Why, pray tell, should I not slay you where you all stand?!¡±


    As he spoke, many guards that were dressed similarly, though less decoratively, gathered behind him in a tight phalanx formation. Each prepared for battle with a spear or halberd.


    Azeal watched as Harold, who had covered himself with a cape to hide his identity, rode with Roland, who was dressed similarly, towards the guards. After a quick exchange, which had the guard begging for forgiveness and a blessing, they both quickly gestured to move forward past the massive gates, then through the inner portcullis and finally into the city.


    Azeal looked on in awe at the hustle and bustle of the city. Everywhere he looked merchants were hawking their wares in stalls, children playing, and even the odd thief in rags. Buildings of stone surrounded the center of trade, making it almost enclosed. There were few dark and narrow allies to pass through, but they made for a dangerous prospect for the ordinary person. Other than those, there was only one major road that moved straight towards a second wall.


    That was presumably the Franks home estate. Their castle on the hill.


    As they moved farther into the city, a particular call within the backdrop of noise caught Azeals attention. A certain merchant selling his product. When Azeal finally found him, he saw what he could not have imagined.


    A slaver selling his slaves.


    But, what made him truly focus on the issue was a certain light that begged for his attention. Calling out to him with pulses, hoping beyond hope that someone out there would hear its cry for aid. That they may rescue them from their terrible fate.


    Unable to stop himself, he jumped off Buttercup. The world began fading away. The voices that called out to him, whether they be words or bellows from his mount, they all disappeared into the background. There was something far more critical now then the modicum of secrecy they had chosen to keep.


    As he ran, the emotion calling out for help began to show. Becoming clearer and clearer every hurried step he took. Until he saw it, in its fully radiant visage. It, like the other slaves, and it was an it at that point to Azeal because all he could see were the emotions, had an orb of emotion entirely encircled by a maelstrom of black tar.


    But this time there was a massive difference. Within this orb was nothing but a white hope. A light that shined and pulsed majestically. What was love, acceptance, and content but variations of the most beautiful? What are colors but parts of the whole, split into many so that we may understand it, truly.


    It was the same to Azeal at that moment. Its pure white light utterly mesmerizing him. Taking hold of his body and mind, then acting as it pleased.


    He broke out of his reverie, to finally see who stood behind the emotion. Behind the single, most beautiful thing he had ever seen was but a little girl. She looked no older than twelve years of age. Entirely innocent from the evils of the world. Her face shone with an innocent and pure confidence, as though she knew someone or something would definitely save her from this most horrible fate.


    ¡°-- One gold and thirty silvers! One gold and thirty silvers! Going once! Going twice! And S-,¡±


    The slaver called but was rudely interrupted by Azeals booming voice.


    ¡°Five gold pieces!¡± He blurted out, not even hearing the actual price she was being sold. He didn''t care at that moment, all he could think about was getting her away from the darkness that crept towards her. He was determined to save her.


    Sputtering the slaver stood there for a while, attempting to comprehend what he had heard. Finding his voice again, he smiled an enormous grin, ¡°Five! I repeat five gold pieces! Going once! Going twice! And Sold to the massive man in the cape!¡±


    Unable to wait anymore Azeal hurried to the girl, where he found her smiling up at him. As though she had known the entire time he was going to be there.


    Extending his hand, he spoke with as much solemnity as he could muster,


    ¡°I give you two choices, little one. I can help you regain what you had lost in scape, and in return, you must reach out and accept my offer. Or you can walk away now to an uncertain future.¡±


    He waited, afraid what the answer might be. Worried she might choose to walk away; never looking back. He was afraid he would be deprived of such emotional magnificence. Waiting with bated breath, he finally heard her answer.


    She grabbed his hand with her tiny fingers and in a voice barely over a whisper, she spoke with confidence that made Azeal¡¯s back shiver.


    ¡°Mother told me when they took me away and sent her to a lovely place, that The One never forgets those who are hurt and pray to him with tears running down their faces. And I heard her pray that no matter where I go, or who takes me, that in the end, I would be free.¡±


    He watched her smile without restraint, as though he had fulfilled her greatest dream.


    ¡°And you came right when that ugly man tried to buy me. I knew you were coming.¡± Giggling an innocent laugh, she continued uninterrupted


    ¡°Mother told me before they took her, and she never lies.¡±

 Ch 26 | A Sacrifice Worth the Price

    ¡°Oh, look at little Nana! She¡¯s finally growing up,¡± Spoke a sweet voice as she combed the hair of a little girl; so short and so innocent. As the woman pressed her hands on little Nana¡¯s head, she felt nubs finally coming. A sign of maturity, even if they weren''t mentally prepared.


    ¡°Your scurs are finally growing! Little Nana is going to be a big girl!¡±


    Smiling with an enormous gap-toothed smile, little Nana spoke with her usually shy and reserved tone, barely over a whisper. Though if anyone truly knew her, they would know how deceptive it actually was. Having been the tiny villages biggest troublemaker, she was always with at least two adults supervising her.


    ¡°I am going to be like Mother and aunty Cecil?¡± She said in the purest voice any could have heard, but the lady knew otherwise. Strengthening the lock she had on the girl, she continued to brush her white hair. Something unusually rare for any of The Woolen, then again when do you find someone as unique and pure as little Nana.


    ¡°Aunty Cecil?¡± called the whispering voice.


    ¡°Yes, sweety?¡± Cecil answered warily. Wondering the entire time, if that voice was a touch to reserved from this master of disaster.


    ¡°You''re tightening your legs around me too much. It''s hurting.¡± Looking back with wide eyes that seemed to begin watering, little Nana looked closer to an angel than that of a mortal.


    Caught off guard, Cecil instinctively weakened her hold on the girl. How could she not? The purest and innocent eyes stared at her, and behind them stood an accusation she could never handle. One that spoke of crimes untold.


    But, what she had forgotten was the little girl was a master at escaping trouble. Or the few times they caught her for a brush down of her hair.


    Within the span of a second, little Nana broke free of the hold Cecil had her in and rushed towards the door. Hoping to escape this most horrible fate; the brushing of her unkempt hair.


    ¡°No! Catch her Wener! We can''t have another mill or barn collapsing!¡±


    The only other occupant in the room, Cecil¡¯s mate, jumped to his feet as he hurried to close the exit before Nana got through. But, the giggling typhoon had too much of a head start to be stopped. Exploding in a rush of wind, Nana escaped the clutches of the two and ran out towards the fields to play with the Oels.


    They were animals known to be extremely territorial and aggressive. They were usually kept to themselves. But, unlike their usual, they scattered at her entrance. All running to escape the innocent devil that had come for them. Unfortunately for a specific calf in the herd, Nana had focused on it as a prospect for its unrelenting love and care.


    Having caught it, she brought it down to the floor. The sat it on her lap. Plucking the brush from her wild hair, she began to groom the calf, who had yet to shed all its fur and grow its scales.


    ¡°Don''t worry, Mister Snuggles. I¡¯ll make sure you look your best! I even have Mothers colors. She likes painting her face whenever Uncle Zesis comes around.¡±


    Unbeknownst to little Nana, a desperate mother bellowed in sorrow as her child was grabbed by the innocent devil. But, was too afraid to do anything lest she incurs its wrath as well.


    <hr>


    After a few hours of grooming and beautifying the calf. The sun had begun to set, and the darkness began to creep ever closer to the tiny and peaceful village. Hidding what should have been seen.


    There gathering at the outskirts of this village, hidden by the thick forest, were a band of evil men. Hoping to use the misfortune of others so they may profit.


    They watched as the little girl ran home and the Oel finally gathered in their huddle to sleep. They prepared themselves, they had been told of a clan of Woolen who would give them enough gold pieces, so they may all retire in luxury.


    ¡°Send the signal, and let team two know to begin, while we take care of the Oel before they wake.¡± Spoke a deep and cold voice. One belonging to a cruel-hearted man.


    A sudden flash of light bloomed in the night sky. Confusing the inhabitants of the village, but informing those that sought them harm.


    <hr>


    As Nana ran towards her home, she heard unusual hollers of anger and pain. But it mattered not to the little girl. Her mother had told her never to stay out after sunset, so she was determined to make it home no matter what new thing she discovered. Or what fun she could have had.


    As she continued on her way, she caught glimpses of red splatterings on the ground and people rolling on and around them. She laughed to herself that looked fun. When she had discovered that she could color the house with her hands, Nana had covered all the walls with paint. But she found it tedious to decorate the ground because she couldn''t jump around while doing so. But now, she had discovered another way to color! Coloring by rolling on the floor! It solved all her problems!


    Oh, she wanted to try it out so much, but she knew better. Mother was waiting for her with food already laid out on the dinner table.


    It took her a while, but she finally reached her house. Yet, it was broken down. And her mother was nowhere to be found.


    Coming to a halt, she tried to remember if she caused it to fall like the other ones. She could not recall that happening though. Her home was strong and lovely. It never broke no matter how many times she had accidentally hit the big long sticks.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Mother! Mother, where are you?¡± She called, hoping her mother was waiting for her near the house with wonderful food.


    ¡°Nana? No, Nana! Run, There are bad men here! Run!¡± Her mother called desperately from behind the house. Yet, unlike what her mother had demanded, her curiosity had her walking around the rubble that was her home. Wanting to find out who the bad men were. And why did they come?


    As she passed the final beam that hid the scene from her sight, she caught glimpses of flashing metal and red paint on the floor. She watched in awe as her mother stood tall. A might spear in her hand, colored the same as the puddles of red that five men laid in. While seven more held, red covering their clothes, as they encircled her.


    ¡°Get the girl!¡± One of the bad men called. Two separated from the group and rushed towards her while she watched confused. As they grabbed her, her mother cried in a voice she never heard. Her mother ran towards her with a desperation that Nana could not understand.


    She watched as her mother had a sword sprout where it did not belong. And red crawled down her body.


    ¡°No! Nana!¡± Falling, her mother cried as she crawled towards her. Tears began to fall, similar to those that fell when her father had left to that lovely place her mother had named heaven. Reaching out, as though she could grab her from afar, her mother spoke with a voice Nana would never forget.


    ¡°Nana, remember to pray! The One never forgets those who are hurt and pray to him with tears running down their faces! Remember to pray!¡±


    As they dragged Nana away from her mother, who seemed to be leaving to visit father in a place more beautiful and lovely than this world, she heard her mother give her last prayer. The last thing that would leave her as she became still.


    ¡°Oh, you who hears my prayers. The prayers of those oppressed. Do with my soul as you wish, but please, no matter where my daughter goes, or who takes her, that in the end, she would be free.¡±


    It was then that, Nana smiled even though she knew she would not see her mother again.


    She looked up in the sky and caught sight of a floating being. Who seemed to stand on the wind itself. She smiled at him because she knew he was going to answer her mother''s prayer.


    Whispering to herself, so the bad men did not hear, she spoke with a certainty that shook the heart of the messenger floating far away; watching as he prepared to answer the woman¡¯s call.


    ¡°Mother never lies, and she said everything would be okay. Someone will save me from the bad men. I know it! Cause Mother said it!¡±


    <hr>


    A messenger floated as he watched a little girl taken away from her mother. A dark future was in store for her if he acted not.


    He stayed there, musing on the commands he had been given. Of what actions would be deemed against the Laws, and what he could get away with. But, as he continued to do so, he was startled by what was thought to be impossible.


    The little girl, weak and pitiful, looked up into the sky. And stared intensely into his endless eyes. A small smile crept onto her face, as though she knew he was going to be there to answer the call.


    She saw a messenger, a true Angel. A being as powerful as a forgotten one. He, who warped space as though he walked a simple stroll, was left flabbergasted at what happened. It was inconceivable that a child, no older than twelve years of age, would achieve what the gods would have failed.


    It was then that she whispered a whisper spoken silently, yet to him, it was as though she yelled in his ears. And in her speech a surety and confidence that had him acting before he could catch himself.


    ¡°Mother never lies, and she said everything would be okay. Someone will save me from the bad men. I know it! Cause Mother said it!¡±


    He could not stand watching such purity be tainted, so he did what was forbidden. He changed the string of fate in her ultimate favor. Twisting them in ways they were not meant to be bent. Stretching them in ways they were not made to extend.


    As he removed his hands from fate, he felt a resounding call deep within his soul. It ate him from the inside, disintegrating his very being. He acted against the Laws he enforced. He knew a punishment was meant to be delivered. No being, as powerful as he, was meant to act so decisively in the mortal realm.


    Another, one with horns and leathery wings suddenly appeared. A friend and rival; his opposite. The being watched, as slowly, ever so slowly, the messenger began to break into particles. Starting from his toes and moving upwards, steadily.


    ¡°Was it worth it, Rezizil? Was your sacrifice worth the cost? Was that mortal girl worth your soul?¡±


    Smiling, Rezizil stared at the true Demon. Waiting until the final moment. And as the disintegration finally reached his neck, he spoke with a surety he tried to match. With the confidence, the girl had spoken.


    ¡°Yes, it was.¡±

 Ch 27 | His Ire

    Azeal stood there silently for minutes untold. Unable to gather all his thoughts into coherent reactions. What stood before him was not but a child; a little girl that spoke with depth that seemed to drive a hole through his heart.


    The little girl had confidence he could only imagine. And a pure innocence that seemed to infect all who heard its mysterious vibrations. All imbued and augmented by the hope that pulsed from the orb near her stomach.


    Her mother had spoken and she, with absolute belief in those words, acted as though they were destined; prophesied by oracles and the mightest of seers. Written on the walls of reality.


    ¡°Excuse me, mi¡¯lord,¡± a sudden nasal voice called. Breaking Azeal out of his reverie. Turning a bit too quickly, he watched as the owner of the voice visibly flinched. He stared for a while to see who had interrupted him from the moment. There, a few feet away, stood a short and pudgy man with an intricate white and gold robe. Behind him stood several men that had cut their arm sleeves to show what muscle they had and a brand of a sparrow on their shoulders. They seemed to be bodyguards meant to protect.


    Azeal stared at the recipients of his ire. As he continued to watch, a familiar color began to shine brightly on them all. The color of fear; its purplish red hue distinct from the other emotions the men portrayed. But of them, one had the least. The fat man, no the swine, was also filled with the golden rays of greed surrounding the fear.


    ¡°Yes?¡± His voice a touch more aggressive than it should have been, but how could any blame a man that had seen the gates of heaven to only have his sight torn away. The color of fear began to grow finally matching the greed. But, before it could overtake it in momentum, the man stuttered a response,


    ¡°The payment, mi¡¯lord. The f¡­ five g...gold coins for the untainted slave.¡± Gesturing at the girl with a heavy hand, the man raised a journal that Azeal had not caught sight of; hidden within a secret pocket. Opening it, the collector turned it around, and a blank page stood before him.


    Confused, Azeal looked at the page then to the man for a few seconds. Having already had an extreme amount of dislike for slavers in general, and this one more so than others, his anger flared.


    ¡°Who do you think I am to stand for such mock¡­¡± But he stopped as words began to write themselves. In a golden ink, words filled with artistic flare began to appear. Letters beyond the scope of a mortal, yet, they understood it fully. This was a contract, a recipe of what he bought.


    The man smiled as Azeal stared in awe.


    ¡°Its one of a kind, sir. Used only by the slavers guild for high priced commodities. And she sold for a small fortune. F...Five, shiny and beautiful, gold coins. The most I¡¯ve ever made on one her age.¡± Licking his lips in apparent greed, he pulled a quill that oozed magic to Azeal¡¯s enhanced eyes.


    ¡°Here,¡± he pointed at the very end, a line appearing, demanding his signature. ¡°Sign here, mi¡¯lord. The contract will be finalized, and she will be bound to you.¡±


    Grabbing the pen, Azeal signed the contract to finalize the sale. Pulling the coins from an inner pocket, he held them up carelessly towards the man. While on the other hand, the slaver was almost shivering in ecstasy to be receiving them.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Have a wonderful day! If you ever want another slave, come to the Sparrows Nest on the other side of the inner wall. The guild also offers protection if you''d desire it. We would be pleased to serve you.¡± Bowing as low as his fat would allow him, the man hurried away taking his guards with him.


    But as they turned, one had thought himself absolved from the wrath Azeal had. A pink color, filled with dark brown outlines, drove Azeal into a blind rage. Its meaning he understood without any explanation. So, he acted without realizing. To protect what he considered his new family from the evil world. From the evil that man portrayed.


    <hr>


    Five gold piece! Five-thousand silver pieces! Fifty-thousand copper pieces! That was how much Lucas had in his hands as he let the coins drop from the massive man¡¯s hands into his. He shivered almost religiously at the sight of such fortune.


    The man must be a middle or even high noble to so carelessly throw gold on a slave he could have bought for almost half the price. Lucas wanted to get a glimpse of him, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not. The man was merely covered in too many layers of cloaks and cloth to be recognized.


    He had to make sure this man was treated with absolute respect lest they all lose more than just the coins. Bowing down lower than he has ever had a need to, he spoke with the warmest voice he could muster with his nasal tone.


    ¡°Have a wonderful day! If you ever want another slave, come to the Sparrows Nest on the other side of the inner wall. The guild also offers protection if you''d desire it. We would be pleased to serve you."


    The man seemed to dismiss them by looking in their direction but not at them. Maybe someone caught his attention farther out. Lucas turned around, hoping to get to the carriage as fast as his short feet could carry him. He had to make sure the guild got the coins before they were attacked for holding such amounts without proper guards.


    But, as he hurried, a surge of mana, so large it blinded Lucas, who had become a rank seven wizard many years ago, erupted behind them. A sudden blast of darkness engulfed them completely, blocking out the sun from their limited view.


    Falling to his knees and hands from the pressure, Lucas rolled to his behind to see what seemed to be happening, only to find one of the guards crucified in what appeared to be tendrils of darkness that tore through each palm and foot. The man screamed in a shrill voice, filled with pain. While all others, who were caught within the doom of shadows, backed away cowardly.


    Lucas stared at the tendrils- noticing their state of being; it was a sign as evident as any, that the man was, putting it mildly, royally screwed. Other than the spikes that seemed to be solid, the rest was closer to molasses than the usual viscosity shadows take. An omen, that the being that caused this was at least a rank three or lower wizard.


    He watched, as the man crucified, as he was slowly moved through the air; guided by an unseen hand. The man struggled to get away, to run and escape from the wrath of the man before him. But his flailing helped naught, but instead expanded the tears in his limbs.


    Slowly, he reached the man whos ire he had stoked. Lucas watched, as the mysterious man who had been waiting patiently began to rise from the ground. A pillar of earth underneath him rose so that he looked directly into his victim''s eyes.


    With a voice that shook with rage, he spoke,


    ¡°You will get away lightly this time. But, ever again I witness your evil thoughts and desires, then know you have only yourself to blame.¡±


    He dismissively flicked his hand. The man was sent flying into the crowd of onlookers who seemed to not have understood the significance of those words. But Lucas heard and knew what they said. The meaning behind them at least. And they spoke volumes of who the man was; hidden by the many layers of cloth.


    What were thoughts and desires but Emotions? And who else can see them except those of mount Velenvar; the progeny of the long-extinct Seraphim and mortal kind.

 Not A Chapter - I am very sorry

    I know it''s going to be hard. And I will be gone, but...


    but...


    ...


    I have to edit the first 10 chapters big time. They are really bad. Every time I read them I cringe at the bad grammar and tenses. How you''ve guys kept on reading is beyond me. For that, I am ever thankful. Your support is has helped me stay motivated! Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    It is going to be for today and tomorrow. So no chapter until Saturday. For that, I apologize greatly! Hopefully, you can forgive my absence!


    Yours Truly,


    Kazi223

 Follow Up - To Keep You Informed

    Rewrites are Hell! So much pain! So much brain melting!


    I will use this to keep you informed of Chapter rewrites and Major plot changes. Will delete it after the rehaul.


    Chapters Rewritten -


    **** 11/30/2018 ****


    Ch 1 - Split into two chapters to fix the point of views and the lack of description


    Ch 2 - The second part of Ch 1


    Ch 3 (Was 2) - Fixed up the tenses and made it one PovThis narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Ch 4 (Was 3) - Fixed a whole lot. So many mistakes it hurt my eyes!


    **** 12/4/2018 *****


    I may need to rewrite ch8-11 (The battle of Venral) since its too long, and a lot of complaints on it. I will make it shorter and more efficient. ---- Its finals this week and next :''( so I am going to release one more chapter before having to stay focused on Uni for a week and a half. BUT there is a silver lining! After next week Monday, I will have 3 weeks with absolutely nothing to take my time up. So, Chapter Galore! and ReWriTe ... *Shudders*


    Never the less, you will get your promised chapter on Saturday! Though rewrites will continue to happen. Let me know what you think of the rewritten chapters!


    Yours Truly,


    Kazi223

 Ch 28 | Lost Memories

    Azeal flicked the swines guard away; dismissing him as a king would in his throne room. He watched as the man, bleeding from the points of his crucifixion, crashed onto the onlookers. Cries of fear and horror sounded out from all who witnessed it. Only those with dark hearts stared with cold eyes, gleaming in recognition and danger before a being far more capable than they.


    The onlookers were filled with those who thought themselves entitled to what they deserved not. Wealthy merchants filled with evil from the slavery they practiced. And then those who were killers. Who thought naught of the value of life.


    Most finding the blood repulsive, ran as they looked for a way out of the darkness that had covered them. Azeal watched as they scurried to the borders of the dome; ants beneath his feet. Hoping to find a way out into the salvation they believed to be on the outside; in the bright glow of the sun. They knew not of what darkness was. Of how before the light ever existed, the night was always there. Watching and waiting, hiding and lurking within its own shadows.


    There struggle for freedom and self-preservation above all else made them seem akin to animals than people. The strong shoving the weak, the young pushing the old, and the men using the women as shields. But, he could not care for their ruckus, or the stampede they may cause. All it would take was a flick of his finger, and these lower life forms would be forever gone. Forgotten in the sands of time. For only the mighty and the crazed are remembered; never the righteous and the simple.


    Slowly, the earthen pillar, he had created as a pedestal for his might, moved downwards into the embrace of the lands. With it came Azeal, as he finally took a step on the ground, preparing to get rid of those who would challenge him. He was the judge of their existence, the jury that decides their fate, and the executioner that metes out his punishment. Those who would be lacking in emotional scape shall meet their end today; for only the most beautiful shall survive his culling.


    The hatred that had spread into this city, caused by the slavers and evil men aplenty, shall be cleansed by his righteous genocide. In it, a land filled with only the purest will rise from the ocean of ashes and rivers of blood from those fallen. And in the survivors will be worship for he; the carrier of Blind Emotion.


    Azeal raised his hands to the heavens to call upon its gift to the world, Mana. Answering his call, a visible effect occurred. It was as though the wind stopped to blow, and silence, in the city of Thols, reigned supreme. All stood to witness the unusual scene. With a sudden jerk, everything began anew. The wind blew once again, and the merchant¡¯s cries heard once more. All the while, the mana was all funneled to him as though they were cattle being led by a herder. It all gathered in between his raised hands, its viscosity visible to the untrained eye.


    Shock in those that watched was apparent, a massive gathering of mana only had one meaning to the citizens of this city. Death was coming, and it would be unbiased in its reckoning. The mana, held up by Azeal¡¯s command, began to morph. Changing into what he saw. Molding it into his image; Darkness and Fire.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    But, as he prepared it in the final stages, a soft body crashed into his. Though it had no effect on him, its momentum lacking, it attracted his attention for a split second. Who would dare challenge him? Was his demonstration lacking in voice? Did he need to make it any more apparent? Looking down, his eyes widened. There he found the one he had forgotten. The one he deemed worthy of protecting. In their eyes, was what shook Azeal to his core. A quiet demand resounding beyond any words could have spoken.


    A judgment he could not withstand. Innocent eyes, filled with determination, stared back into his blazing red. Speaking its thoughts without a filter. A spike of pain caught him off guard. And his mind began to clear. What was he doing? Was he really about to kill all those people? How could he have rationalized it? This was wrong! He would have killed everyone including his family.


    Greater pain hit him all of a sudden, his mind tearing into itself. He let go of the mana that had gathered above him. It shot into the sky far above the city. While Azeal fell heavily to his knees, his hands grabbing the scarf that had covered his face. Exposing his helm to the world; intricate in design.


    BOOM!


    A massive concussive force hit everyone near the epicenter of the blast, so far in the sky. Blowing those of normal upbringing onto their knees. A king''s power was released into the word, and it demanded that all must kneel.


    But, Azeal was on a world to himself. He gritted his teeth as the pain grew the longer it lasted. Eventually, it became more than he could handle; screaming with a tortured voice. The pain rippled within his mind. Though it came with pulses from its physical manifestation, the pain was greater within his soul. It tore at it without restraint. Trying to break free from inside of him.


    It was the first time since he was in the absolute void; in the empty darkness, he met the goddess. With a tearing sound, flashes of memories passed once again. Of the ones he loved, faces blurry and names beyond the reach of his mind. Of those, some he had lost long ago. A lover dying in his hands, giving birth to the soul of his heart. The grief added to his pain, and with a sudden boom, a name was given. It all becoming twice the fold it had been; all the pain and suffering doubling.


    The name tore from his mouth as he screamed it to the world. Telling its tale so the wind might carry it far and wide.


    ¡°Reinala!¡±


    Unable to take any more, his hulking body slowly fell downwards as a tiny girl attempted to hold him up. The last thing he saw before the darkness, he was so familiar with, overtook him was Harold and Roland forcing their way past the stampede that ran away from him.

 Ch 29 | Worth and Images

    Gasping for breath, Azeal woke up flailing his hands. Feeling as though someone tried to strangle him; removing the breath that his lungs desperately begged for. Fighting harder and harder, but no matter his effort, the suffocating continued. He attempted to scream, yet no voice would come out.


    Afraid, Azeal struggled with all his force against the invisible foe. Only to hear the tearing of cloth. And with it came the reprieve he had desired. Finally, his lungs basked in the presence of air. Taking his time, he reacclimated himself, trying to understand where he was.


    His was in a massive bed, as though they had made it for his size. As his eyes scanned the room, he noticed the overly decorated walls and unnecessary drawers. Though the room was gargantuan in size, everything inside it was made for him to use, making it smaller then it appeared. Curtains were draped on the wall to add design, while a set was used for the windows. They were partially opened, letting in a bright beam of sun. Creating images in Azeal¡¯s eyes.


    It was then that mirage took place before him. Even though he saw through it, the images were too realistic for him to deny. A room filled with light and happiness. He sat there as he watched a woman danced in the rays of the sun. Adding beauty to what he had always thought to be without a match. Oh, how she glowed, an angel given physical form.


    But as suddenly as she had appeared, she vanished without a trace. Leaving Azeal begging for more even though he understood that it was in the realm of the impossible. This was a last reminder of his wife. Of the one he had lost while he held her in his hands.


    ¡°Reinala, I miss you so much.¡± He whispered quietly, reminiscing a time he honestly thought heaven had deemed him worthy of its visit. He closed his eyes, hidden behind his stoic helm, hoping he could get one final glimpse of her.


    ¡°Whose Reinala?¡± A quiet voice asked, startling a somber Azeal. His eyes wide, though no one would have noticed, he swirled his head to find the owner. His muscles tightened, ready to defend himself if necessary, only to see the little girl he had saved sitting on a chair that was apparently not meant for her.


    She laughed innocently at frightening him, taking enjoyment in startling others, as children are wont to do. Enjoying herself a bit too much in his mind. But, nevertheless, he smiled at her antics. Who wouldn''t when such a pure child found it peaceful enough to laugh in a world filled with misery and death.


    But, as he did so, the smile slowly fell away. His Emotion Sight flared to life once again, trying to find solace in the existence of the white hope before him. But as the lights began to shine, he closed his eyes, demanding the skill listen to his will. He wanted to keep the memory of his wife for as long as realistically possible. He felt it fight, wishing to show him the wonders that hid behind the veil of reality. But, he would not allow it.


    After a few seconds of silence and struggle, he opened his eyes once again. He had forgotten how gloomy the world was before his sight had been opened; removing the curtains. He watched the world in its dull colors. No brightness shining, demanding his attention.


    He looked at the little girl, there he finally really saw her. Though he had seen her before, he had never truly looked at her features because of how demanding the orb of white hope stood. Now, it was gone, and only her regular features remained.


    She was gaunt-faced, skinny as a stick. An apparent victim of starvation if there ever was one. Her face almost skeletal, if not for her puffed cheeks. With wide eyes, a tiny and perky nose, and her white hair, she looked the epitome of cuteness than a child grown in suffering and loss. A testament to her beliefs. Azeal smiled at the little girl, whose name he had yet to ask.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Reinala was my w.. wife. The mother of my child.¡± His voice broke as he finally said it. His wife, the mother of his child. As he watched her, a flash of interest appeared, breaking the final barriers Azeal had in speak to her of such matters; things so close to his heart.


    ¡°What happened to her? And your child, where is he?¡± She asked, oblivious to his inner pain.


    ¡°My wife died long ago, giving birth to my child, and he was separated from me. Circumstances beyond what I can stop broke us apart.¡± He looked away, it hurt speaking of it. Of the incident that brought him to this world. But, as he did so, the little girl got up and jumped onto his lap. Grabbing his helm, she looked into his eyes, the intensity she showed was something he did not expect. He was utterly entrapped in their stare


    ¡°Mother told me, when my father left us, that though he might never return, he would wait for us in a lovely place. Now, mother is with him and waiting for the day we all come together again.¡± She jumped off him and began to spin on the floor with her hands raised above her.


    ¡°You have to always be happy because you will meet them in that lovely place too. And maybe I can tell Father and Mother all about the big monster that saved me!¡± Laughing, she ran towards a large door that had been closed. Struggling, she barely opened it only to find Harold standing in front of it. She rushed towards him, but instead of crashing into him, she nimbly dodged his stationary body and ran out of the room; laughing, all the while, wildly.


    ¡°She has more energy than anyone has the right too,¡± Harold spoke, hoping to get Azeal¡¯s attention. But, that would be a task he would not be capable of. Azeal was still stunned at the wisdom that came from a child no older than twelve years old.


    As he continued to stare at where she had been, Harold walked in front of him and grabbed his shoulder. Speaking in a voice that demanded a response, he said, ¡°Azeal, I have a question that needs to be answered.¡±


    He looked into Harold¡¯s eyes, noticing a tint of worry in them. ¡®Was he worried at what my answers would be? Or is it something else entirely?¡¯ Azeal thought to himself. Hurring he affirmed the request with a firm ¡°Okay,¡± hoping none of the pain and suffering he endured slipped past his stoic facade.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Harold responded as he sat down on the chair the little girl had been seated in.


    ¡° I hope that you can trust me and answer me truthfully. The question now, do you know how much a gold coin is worth?¡± Azeal, stared into Harold''s eyes, thanking whoever had a hand in fate for the helm that covered his face. He felt incredibly nervous being questioned by Harold, who held himself in a strict and noble demeanor. Even though he considered lying, how would he prove that he knew the answer to that question if Harold asked the right question next? So he played it safe.


    ¡°No, I do not.¡± Sighing, Harold looked resolved to the fate he had. ¡°Well, it was quite obvious from the beginning, wasn''t it?¡± Azeal was about to reply, but Harold just continued on, not expecting an answer.


    ¡°You see, a single gold is worth a thousand silver coins, and ten thousand copper coins. You spent five gold coins on a pure child when you could have bought a grizzled veteran instead. But, they were yours so you could spend them any way you will.¡±


    Azeal stared at him for a while, considering he did not condemn slavery. He tried voicing his opinion but was stopped by Harold who raised his hand as he got up.


    ¡°It''s okay. You don''t need to explain yourself. My house and I will support your decisions if they make sense,¡± He looked towards the door, and to where he had almost crashed into the little girl. With a voice suddenly filled concern, he looked back towards Azeal,


    ¡°Just don''t fall down a dark path. Come to me if you need to speak, I will be at the Great Hall, dining with the Franks and speaking of our accommodations.¡± Turning around he walked away with a brisk pace, as though he was anxious to leave.


    All the while, Azeal sat there dumbfounded by how quickly he had come and then left. But, nevertheless, it was good to finally be left alone. Maybe, just maybe, he could finally get a last glimpse of her. And even if he could not, he would have the time available to try out the Mana he had felt during his change of personality. If nothing else, the only good that came out of that incident was making him familiar with the feeling of Mana coursing inside and around himself.

 Ch 30 | Inner Demons

    For a while,  Azeal tried his best to get that final glimpse he thirsted for. To see the beauty, unmatched. But, he was unsuccessful in his attempt. She would never appear again in his sight, only a forgotten memory filled with cracks; nowhere near the mosaic, it should have been. Unworthy of who it portrayed. Saddened by this, he felt himself fall into a dangerous state. One of sadness and hopelessness.


    But as he noticed it, Azeal quickly nipped the emotions at there buds. His Raug emotional limiter that had been forcefully turned off due to the instability his Blind Emotion skill caused helped him overcome this horrific feeling; all without his knowledge. Not finding it odd that he could suddenly pass the massive grief that had grasped his heart, he continued on to his inner look into mana.


    He hardening his eyes, imagining himself the death he had been. The world steadily darkened as his eyelids closed. He, unhurried in his attempt, was determined to feel it all. To explore the familiar feeling of Mana that had been called by the weird personality shift. He wanted to feel the burning fire that had coursed in his veins. Giving him energy beyond his wildest dreams. And glimpses at power only for those purely made of it; glimpses of Surt¡¯s domain.


    He wanted to feel the darkness that had inhabited his heart, mind, and eyes. Speaking to him of injustices that had been done in its name. Wishing to be rid of those that would sully its existence. For the darkness was not meant for the thieves and assassins, but a resting place for those of justice.


    And lastly, he wanted the earth that stood under him, a throne ever so large, to remain. So that he may mold them to his wishes, and they to beg for release from their comfortable fold. To be his pillar in a meteoric rise.


    Slowly, as he meditated, three swirling masses each equidistant from the other appeared in the darkness of his closed eyelids. Each one individual in its make. Bright and chaotic they span, attempting to grab his attention. But also orderly in their light, defined by what they were meant to be. The farthest to the right was a bright red that glowed strongest of them, yet its swirling mass middling in size. As he focused on it, a sudden burning sensation assaulted him. A pure fire grabbing his mind, attempting to do what it was created to do. To destroy those that thought themselves capable of handling its might.


    Forcing himself away from the fire, he almost lost his ultra meditative state. But somehow retained it at the end. Much more cautiously, he approached the one in the middle. It was difficult to understand, its make so unusual. It was a ball of darkness wholly surrounded by a thin layer of light. Its size was the smallest of them all. It caused Azeal to question its existence, to ask why would it be there. To question why he was there. Why should he ever leave? Who made those out their worthy of him? Why would they -


    Gasping as he turned his eyes away, Azeal finally noticed its most subtle effect. It was not overtly apparent like the fire. No, it came slowly and without your notice. Taking you out before you ever had a chance to defend yourself.


    This time, when he looked towards the brown and glossy silvers of the last mass of confusion, he was astonished by the vast difference in size. It was massive compared to the others. Making it seem far more potent than it should have been. Azeal tried to merely watch it from his peripheral vision, but how does one not stare at a mountain when they stood at its feet? He felt like a bug next to a wall of stone and metal that extended beyond the grasp of even his enhanced sights. But as suddenly as he lost himself in its sheer size, it pushed him away.


    It seemed to attempt to force him away, demanding, with a resounding ¡®Dong¡¯ that left no bickering, that he goes. That he escapes what was yet to come. Just as his mind was pushed farther than the swirling mass could take him, he looked back at the others, to find them pulsing in fear. Begging him to leave. To get away from whatever existed in the darkness.


    But, Azeal was ignorant of it all. Oblivious to the dangers that lurked in his Affinity Realm. A place no mortal was meant to see. But unfortunately for him, the combination of his Blind Emotion and the sudden activation of his emotional limiter left open a crack he mistakenly entered. The only good thing, nothing could leave it other than him.


    As he watched them repeat their cry over and over again, it finally struck him. ¡°I need to leave!¡± he called to himself. Hoping the vocalized words would help him separate from this realm he did not understand.


    Slowly the colors dimmed as he felt himself exit it completely, but without warning a tendril, of every color imaginable and even those that are not, latched on to him. Grabbing him desperately, so he never leaves, then dragging him back into its embrace.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    HahAHaHA! HAhAHaha!


    A broken voice called, crazed beyond what Azeal could conceive. The laughter continued, echoing in the dark realm. Happy it had caught prey within its barren world.


    FiNaLLy! SomeThInG To DEvOuR! SomeThInG My B¡­ BLinDnEss cAn FeAsT UpOn!


    The insane thing shrieked more than spoke. Its glee obvious even to those deaf, having heard no words. Azeal was afraid, more than ever before. He felt useless in front of whatever this was. Fighting his best to get away from the darkness, he wanted to leave. To get away and never return.


    Slowly, as though a source of light had appeared, the being became visible to him. And what stood there shook him to the core. An exact copy of himself was standing there, but with a small difference and a face without blood, completely pale. As though death had touched upon it. His horns were chipped away, instead of the refined and sharp ones he had. The metal that covered the abomination was duller and cracked as well.


    It was then that he understood what was before him. The sudden change in personality, his desire to destroy and kill, the coldness he had when he slew those bandits or when he crucified the bodyguard. It all clicked together, for what stood before him was the evil of his heart, made into physical form. The thing that took control of his being when he felt the greatest emotions.


    This all made him struggle all the harder, to get away and remain in denial. This was not him! It should not exist! He would never rationalize an innocent death! This shouldn¡¯t be him! Azeal fought and fought, but the more he did so the clearer the fate, that was his, became. Alone in this realm, he would not escape. He would not get away from this thing.


    There were only three other existences here other than the two, and they were powerful in their own right. Individually they might be weak in comparison to this creature, but the whole is always greater than the sum of its parts. With determination unrelenting, Azeal reached out to the pure clusters of mana. He reached out to earth, fire, and darkness, and then pulled with all his might.


    They answered his call, rushing towards him until they collided at the center of the magnetic force. Hitting Azeal and the tendril that had slowly pulled him towards the abomination. He watched as the tendril broke, while he gritted his teeth in absolute pain, though it had been dulled through the emotional limiter without his knowing. The pure mana of three affinities coursed through him, opening his pathways forcefully. Each finding those that matched them, the fire burning in his arms, the earth all over his thighs and core, while the darkness spread like poison in his chest.


    Finding the sudden freedom, Azeal ran with all his might. Forgetting the pain and the affinities all together to escape. In the final moments, he looked back to see if it had followed, only to find it standing there content. But frighteningly, a smile crept on its face showing the most significant difference between them clear. Fangs were quite apparent in the hideous smile it had.


    I WiLl HaVE My FeAst OnE DaY! THaT Is AsSurED!


    It spoke in the shriek it had made Azeal all too familiar with, but he did not truly hear the words only the echoes that rang into his mind. For a single thing occupied his thought, a myth that should not exist.


    Vampire!

 Ch 31 | The Last Light

    He was afraid, standing in a dark room with only one entry for light closed. Shuffling of feet could be heard. Multiple people running in the darkness his eyes could not penetrate. Blind to his surroundings, Lucas still knew what was with him. Or better yet, who was with him.


    ¡°They tell me you have information too valuable to reach any others ears except mine.¡± A deep voice, hardened from struggles and pain spoke. Lucas shivered as he was addressed, it felt disconcerting to be spoken to. A legend in the dark had spoken to him, and he will have the opportunity to respond. He cursed his fat body then, for maybe he would have been viewed better by him.


    Sweat slowly crawled down his body, greater than any moment in his life. Worse than running for any period. Lucas grabbed his hand, which shook uncontrollably, as he prepared to speak without his voice stuttering. ¡°Yes,¡± he thanked the heavens for his steady voice. How embarrassing it would be for it to break in front of him.


    ¡°You know the consequences for what I deem as unworthy of my time?¡± This time, the voice spoke judgmentally. Making it what he thought about Lucas. Lowering his head in shame, he waited for a while, making sure the man before him had finished; the punishment for interrupting him was too high to risk anything.


    He replied more confidently this time around. ¡°Yes,¡± He was sure of its value. Considering only five were ever caught outside their homes, this would help him rise above the station he was limited to because of his excess fat. In a world filled with the strong bodied and willed, one who was fat was determined to lack both. Nothing but a grubby merchant, incapable of defending himself.


    ¡°Then speak! I have no time to waste on the likes of you! Here in the darkness, behind me, stand the next wave of mine. And with it, I will finally get my revenge. My stature may have been lost, but he will lose so much more. And yet, you, fat, slow, and weak-willed, attempt to tread in the darkness of this holy room.¡± A crazed voice lingered at the end of the man¡¯s impassioned words; sitting hidden on the fringes. Lucas did not understand what the man went on about, but it did not matter. No, the information he held did more than anything.


    ¡°Manus Furti,¡± Giving the inhabitant of the dark room his titled name. Respect and admiration were all clear as day, ironic to all who existed in the realm of lies and deceit. Lucas continued, trying his best to add as much flair to his words as possible. To tell a tale that would captivate the man before him.


    ¡°As I continued my ordained task, creating vast treasures of gold and silvers for your might. I had gotten a pure child, expected to sell for a small fortune. As I brought her up the stage, hungry-eyed men and cruel women looked on. Their eyes glimmering at the possibilities this young and untainted slave had.¡± He paused for a theatrical effect, hoping beyond hope that the man before him was hooked. Yet, nothing in the darkness changed. The rhythmic beat of those training unchanged, and he moved not. So, Lucas gathered his courage and continued on; pushing through the slog that seemed to coalesce before him.


    ¡°I began the usual fare, setting the starting price as high as I could without losing the smaller bidders. For, who would entice the wealthier patrons to spend more other than those with little? Setting it at five hundred silvers, a few at the edges walked away. The value beyond their meager means. Slowly the price rose, as people began to bid.¡± Stopping again, he waited for any form of response, or even a hint that the man hadn''t already left.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The silence was suffocating, throttling him. Seconds after seconds passed, yet no response was forthcoming. Lucas feared he had overdone it. In doing so, he had lost the interest of this vicious person. For only horrible tortures were in his future if so.


    ¡°Continue,¡± The man¡¯s voice broke the silence that had layered on top of the darkness. Letting out a breath of relief, Lucas once again thanked the gods for their mercy. Taking in a deep breath, he prepared for the crux of the story. To finish his tale of the man who walked into Thols just a few days ago.


    ¡°As the haggling began between the bidders, a strangely cloaked entourage of people suddenly crossed the gates of Thols without harassment from the guards. To do that, they must be important and worth attention.¡± As he was about to continue, the darkness in front of him seemed to shift. Dancing and swirling around him, within a second, hard breathing began to go down his neck.


    The man had somehow gotten behind him, making Lucas shiver in fear once more. He must have done something wrong, he prayed in his head, to somehow get out of this room. Why was he so stupid as to believe Manus Furti would deem him worthy of his time.


    ¡°He is here? When did they arrive? Why haven¡¯t I heard of this yet?! Did anyone of them have a long staff?¡± The sudden torrent of question caught Lucas off guard. He had been prepared to meet his end against a foe he knew to be impossible for him to beat, not these questions.


    ¡°Answer!¡± The man demanded as the darkness turned to a liquid suffocating Lucas. Unable to breathe he struggled his best, but he knew it to be futile. Croaking with all his might, he tried to utter any words but could not. Slowly, Lucas felt his life pass. But at the very edge, where a blackness, darker than what had surrounded him, began to cover his peripheral vision, the hand that covered his breath suddenly lost its form.


    Falling down he gasped with a heavy breath, he looked up into where the darkness seemed to coalesce. There he saw the man¡¯s physical shape. He seemed to be at least six feet tall and with a slim build.


    ¡°I did not see anyone with a large staff, nor do I know whose entourage that was. But, I came to inform you something, in my mind might be as valuable as what you seek. A Seraphim¡¯s mortal child has entered the city of Thols. Who would dare speak of emotions except those who can actually see them? But, it is a warning as well, my Manus Furti, his darkness is unlike your own, stronger in make. His takes a solidified form. Piercing through one of my guards, crucifying him as he willed it. But, that is not all! No, he was also a wielder of the earth. A master that created a pillar he had risen from like a vengeful king.¡±


    Lucas was determined to speak his mind. His desire for power and gold was more significant than the desire for safety. If luck would continue to take his side, then let it work worth its time; folds greater than its previous efforts. Waiting for the final verdict, he watched as the man turned away. His storm growing greater the longer he stood there silently.


    But it was at a sudden change that let Lucas sigh in relief. All the stormed darkness seemed to flicker then disappear, leaving only the peaceful waters it had been. His death was not meant for today, no, his information was too important.


    But there will be death for sure. Blood will be spilled, flowing like a river. Lucas knew that to be true, considering someone of importance had walked into Thols without the man¡¯s knowledge. ¡°Leave, your reward will be great. While a punishment for those who failed me will be even greater.¡±


    Getting up from his knees, he rushed towards the door. All the while cursing his stubby legs, and their lack of speed. Opening the door, the light finally covering him; pushing the shadows away. A sight he was happy to see again.


    But as he took the first step out, a sudden pain bloomed in his stomach. Quite unusual compared to hunger pangs. As he looked down, his vision began to blur. A spear made of solidified Ice tore through it all, blood leaking around it.


    Hands shaking, he grabbed the ice, trying to understand what had happened. It was then that a voice broke into his confused mind, ¡°You shall be rewarded with a final glimpse of light before I kill you. No one speaks to me that way and comes out alive after doing so. No! One!¡± Falling down ungracefully, he watched the sun¡¯s rays beamed on him as the familiar blackness began to take over his vision. And with a few seconds, it did.

 Ch 32 | Pain

    ¡°Ah!¡± Azeal screamed, his body flailing on its own accord. He tried to sit up, but no matter how hard he worked he was too weak. As though his body muscles had atrophied from fear; if at all possible. What madness had he found? What evil existed in this realm he happened upon? And how was it connected to anything he had experienced, truly? These were questions he could not find answers for, no matter how much he desired them. Azeal was shaking, his heart thumping like a drum, and his ears seemed incapable of absorbing sound. The world was glazed in a dull fog to his eyes. It all meant one thing he wished he could say otherwise too - Azeal was afraid beyond anything else in his life.


    Then, with a sudden popping sound, pain bloomed within his entire body. It was as though his senses had been returned, in synchronicity with the crazed flailing of his body. Slowly it increased and increased until he could hold it no longer. ¡°Ah!¡± he screamed again, but this time with more hoarse voice and in a longer duration. It was all an amalgamation of pain that began to separate, becoming their own entities. In turn, the pain assaulting Azeal increased three folds.


    The first was on his core -- sternum until his groin. He felt spikes tearing him apart, ripping his innards to shreds. This was the greatest of them all, as vast as the mountain he had seen in the black realm. It almost eclipsed the others, only the strange and unique flavors each pain had differentiated one from the other. The second was a burning in his arms, a fire that demanded it consumes everything in its path. It felt like lava had been injected into his blood streams - eating away at the tissues and everything in between. The last, when it had become apparent, it came with a surprising effect that made Azeal subconsciously remember the Vampires black world. It came with a blackness that covered his eyes and struck needles into his brain. Scratching at his mind from the physical world.


    But once the blackness came, Azeal began to cry in fear once again. ¡°No! No! No! Please, not this again!¡± Through the pain, he forced his hands to clutch at the helm that covered his face, an act he had forgotten to be fruitless - forcefully attempting to take it off. Straining with all his might, the pain incomparable to what he was already enduring, nothing happened. Again and again, he would push and pull, desperately clawing at it to be removed. He needed the light of day, or the very least a candle to shine in its lonesome - hope where hope should not be. At the top of his lungs, he screamed in force, his words gurgled from the strain to his vocal cords and throat.


    Yet, the harder he tried, the more something would whisper. Ignored in the beginning due to its lack of strength. But slowly it built up until it was impossible to miss. The words were hollered in his ears, from what seemed to be closer to than his own yells. There were many words he could not understand - a language filled with too many ¡®I¡¯s and ¡®Z¡¯s. Gibberish to the one it attempted to speak to. It continued to flow, as Azeal flailed and rolled, finally falling off his bed. There he lost his voice, his throat too sore to be used to speak, but then it healed when he his screams became voiceless. A far cry from the loud and booming voice he had used to tell the world of his pain.


    Through it, all the voice whispered constantly. Repeating its hypnotic song without concern to those that would hear it - all the while getting louder and louder to Azeal. It was like a Latin song to those that did not understand the language - a mysterious melody. Until finally, its droning voice ultimately overshadowed the pain. Its demands becoming more evident every time it repeated itself. Forming into a language recognizable to its wielder. The words were simple and instructions to what one must do. And so it spoke to Azeal and he without full control of his body, yelled the words it demanded he let out to the world.


    ¡°Seraphimizus Recitozenous!¡± A password the carrier of the Helm must call, once all conditions are met, to take it off. And put it back on after the duration of freedom from its grasp ends.


    And all of a sudden, the helm became loose on his skull. Too big even with the horns that adorned Azeal¡¯s head. With shaking hands that had seemed to have lost all strength, he pushed it off - or used the momentum he had built to slap it off. With a clink, it hit the tiled floor of his room. But, unlike what he had hoped there was no reprieve from the black ink that had covered his eyes and the pain that had demanded it take its toll on his body. Tears began to slowly streak down his Raug face, for it was all unbearable. The mental and physical torture he was suffering was too much to handle - all of it coming after his encounter with the Vampire in its own realm.


    His hands, eventually fell to his side, almost giving up to what seemed to be an eternity of pain. But with a sudden boom and a spray of wood shrapnel, the door to his room was blasted open. With a hurried pace, Roland, Harold, and two men unintroduced entered, trying to find the enemy that had snuck into their allies room. Only to find Azeal, flailing with elemental overload and corruption. From his arms were a burning and bright red fire that had caught the bed sheets in their unending desire to consume. From his waist and chest grew solid rock, yet somehow still flexible enough for him to flail the way he did. Pieces had been broken as he had fallen off his bed, covering the ground under him. And lastly, was a black cloud that covered his entire head. Within it were bright flashes of white and red, two colors none in the room understood. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Azeal knew someone had entered his room, and with a desperate call, he raised his hands, stretching in hopes they would respond. Even with the Raug limiter, this was beyond his new capabilities. ¡°Please, help me.¡± he finally croaked, somehow speaking through the fog as though it was never there - the sound undisturbed. With urgency, Roland ran to his side, grabbing his hand while doing so. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay, I will heal you,¡± said Roland, attempting to ease Azeal¡¯s struggles. But he knew better, considering the elemental corruption was given so much time to run rampant, he would have to whither great portions and heal them anew. So, he put Azeal to sleep to stop the flailing and the incoming pain from causing him any more damage mentally.


    And so that was what he did, purple energy began to seep from his hands, covered with a bright light of healing - hiding it from all the world which knew not his truest capabilities. The world that new not his horrible past. Slowly he stared with the fire, which died the quickest, luckily it mostly took great hold on the metal outgrowths that grew on Azeal. With a flash of blinding red, the fire corruption was dispersed. Yet, the damage had already been done, it would take a while before he would be able to wield it again. It gave to questions none had asked before. How had Azeal used mana during the fight against the bandits? Or more recently, how was the massive dome of darkness created?


    Corruption of any element happened in two situations, the first was when someone that had not opened his affinity or used it suddenly had it ripped open. A great rushing of the element would ravage the entire body, and if one had more than one element, a specific place it would call home. The second happened when one becomes baptized in the element of choice. If the person is not prepared or too weak to handle the flow of mana, they would be consumed and corrupted whole. They would turn into Golems of their respective element.


    Removing any thoughts from his mind, Roland continued his task. Moving on to the earth corruption that had taken place all around his chest and waist, down until the middle of his thighs. This was much harder to removed simply due to the strength and density the growths had. This proved once again to be a catalyst for more questions Roland choose to ignore for the time being. How strong must his affinity to earth be for such density and mass? At the very least, it must have been a ¡®Stronger Affinity¡¯ if not higher.


    With a blast of dust, causing everyone in the room to cover their eyes and faces, the earth corruption was removed. He moved onto the dark cloud that had taken home on his head. Roland extended his hand, but as he touched it, an image took over the world from his eyes. A black realm clashing greatly with one of white light. Within the blackness stood a likeness to Azeal, but decrypt and pale. A desire to consume the world radiated in a transparent and frightful purple aura. While on the other side, within the white light, grew a sphere of golden light. Massive wings that covered most of everything in that world, spread from its back. All the while the golden orb pulsed slowly, releasing a demand that it be bowed to. Similar to a king sitting on their ornate throne.


    But, as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished leaving Roland reeling from the great passion and desire both exuded. But he, having done this too many times to ever count, subconsciously removed the corruption that had inflicted Azeal¡¯s head. Finding himself staring in awe at the Raug, he quickly put on a stoic and tired face. This was something to hide, a secret the world in its entirety would war over -- no matter how peaceful the race would call itself. Within the single being, the ability to give birth to a Higher Race was given. What nation would not want a hold of such valuable assets, to force him to give it to one brainwashed, and then they would breed them like cattle. Creating an army the gods themselves would fear, and even the forgotten ones would be wary of.


    ¡°How is he?¡± asked Harold, concern written on his face. ¡°It is done. He will not be able to use any of his affinities for a time,¡± said Roland in response, giving Harold a meaningful look. He turned back towards the other two occupants of the room. The first was an older man with bright brown hair, wearing warm colored and loose clothes. He had a combed beard that reached the center of his chest, with two braids that hung on opposite sides. Lastly, he carried his trusty sword - the reason he gained a noble title for his family; a veteran of the border war far to the west of Orbes. He was the lord of the city of Thols - Lemer Frank. Next to him was the family guard, a man they helped bring from the world of poverty he had been forced into. He was of an extremely tall build and wore a black set of full plate armor he had been used to keeping on. His name was Gregarious Hanson.


    ¡°A Raug! Your close family friend is a Raug!¡± said Lemer in a harsh whisper. ¡°Is he a slave? Or did you free him?¡± he asked, though he spoke with a demand to know, respect was still lined in the military man''s voice. What person who had ever been in a single battle did not have the utmost respect and worship for The Great General?


    ¡°He is free and a friend. Treat him well and keep this a secret. Just as you did not know before this, none should find out other than the two of you,¡± said Harold. Stepping forward, he gestures for the others to follow him out of the room. ¡°Let Roland deal with this mess for now. We will have time to speak of such matters later. Right now, we need to finish our discussion on the accommodations you forgot to have prepared, Lemer.¡± The group left, leaving Roland all alone to his thoughts, and an unconscious Raug. One of the most prominent thoughts consuming his mind was a simple one. ¡°How am I supposed to pick up an eight-foot-tall Raug from the floor?¡±

 Ch 33 | The Talk

    It did not take long for Azeal to wake up after Roland had put him to sleep. It was only a few hours after the fact actually - almost dawn. He was grateful that his unconsciousness did not have the usual nightmares; no bloody mercenaries trying to grab him, no blood filled darkness, and most importantly, no vampire desperate to feed on him. Shivering at the thought, he continued to sit silently next to the large window in his room. He felt lost and weak; utterly incapable of helping himself.


    Looking out the window, he watched as the first rays of light started to trek their way across the land. A sign that the day had just begun and the sun about to make its way through the sky, illuminating the once dark world. Out in the horizon, a sliver of light across the sky, horizontally, shined brightly while waves of clouds decorated the brightening sky. A beautiful thing to witness and even more so for the morose Azeal. He balled his fists and knitted his brows, as an indescribable urge came. He knew it was coming and hoped he might be able to fight it, but the longer he fought and struggled the more the sensation grew until it became too much to handle. Sweat slowly dribbled down his forehead, and his teeth were gritted, but no matter what he did, the helm¡¯s demand was just too much.


    Once a threshold was crossed, and Azeal continued to fight, a voice began to whisper once again. It was the same one as before, but this time it was clearer. It was not distinctly masculine nor was it feminine, a neutral voice that irked him. And just as it was then, it became louder and louder the longer he did not comply. On it went until it became unbearable - screaming into his mind - drowning any other sound. Azeal closed his eyes, his body entire body shaking; an addict facing great withdrawal symptoms.


    With a defeated sigh, he grabbed the helm - sitting on the window shelf - and held it in his hands. He tried squeezing it with all his might - all the muscle and strength he was given from this hulking monstrosity of a body - but it was not enough to cause any visible change. His resolve crumbled and muscles loosened as he raised the helm to his head. Slowly, like a liquid, it formed over his head, taking back its home for eternity. When Azeal had accepted the helm from Harold, he had not expected this to develop the way it did. No, he imagined a paradise, in which nothing could go wrong. The world looked like it revolved around him, and he the infallible protagonist. Now, after great torture, and a monster living inside of him, did he mature enough to notice that it might not.


    Half the sun had finally passed the line between darkness and light, the rays it sent out burning into his eyes, but the helm did enough to take out most of the glare. After hard comes ease, or at least that was what he was once told by an elderly man. It was weird to Azeal, how some moments from his memory were clear - only faces and names missing - and others completely lost to him. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned away from the bright sun and looked at the only other occupant of his room, Roland. He sat their quietly and patiently, waiting for Azeal to gather his thoughts.


    Azeal stared at him for a while, the suns glare leaving shadowing him. Roland sat feet shoulder width apart, hands resting on the staff he had laying on his knees. A stoic face marred the usually bright persona he had shown Azeal. It made it very clear to him that Roland would not be leaving without answers to his question. As the pregnant silence continued, the weight of the moment grew, until Roland found it necessary to speak.


    ¡°How are you doing now?¡± he said, the question and the neutral voice that voiced it made Azeal wince. Where was the kindness he had been shown? Or was it an illusion his foggy mind had created?


    ¡°I am okay,¡± said Azeal.


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    ¡°Good, it took quite a bit to heal you. But, nevertheless, I did. You see, as I was healing you, I found something unusual. An image really, and nothing more. But the image spoke greatly to me,¡± said Roland, not allowing Azeal to interrupt him until he had finished. Not understanding, Azeal waited for him to continue, but it did not seem like he would without a response to his statement. ¡°Image? What image did you see?¡± said Azeal, hesitantly.


    ¡°Well, hopefully, you would be able to give me a good explanation for it. You see, the image was split into two. One half had an Upir, and the other had their opposite the Seraphim,¡± Roland stopped again, giving Azeal a meaningful look. The continued, demanding an answer to his question. ¡°The safety of Harold and his family is of paramount importance to me, so I have to ask you these questions. To, start who are you and how did you get the ability to bestow the lineage of a once dead Higher race?¡±


    Azeal¡¯s eyes widened, he had not expected him to find out about the monster in his soul - though he was confused why it was called an Upir - and his ability to give a seraphim bloodline. Those were secrets he had tried to hide or had just found out himself. As the silence continued to lengthen, he noticed Roland¡¯s hands tighten on his staff and an almost transparent purple fog started to leak. A threat if Azeal had ever seen one. But, he knew it was necessary. To Roland, Azeal was nothing but a stranger he had seen a few times and cares a considerable amount of potential to destroy what he cared about. Then again, he was tired of keeping these secrets to himself. Maybe voicing them out to someone would help alleviate the pain and struggle he went through.


    Taking a deep breath, Azeal felt a pang of pain in his heart. It would be difficult to speak of these things, and even then he would not be able to speak of them all. His origins were one he wouldn''t be able to really talk about it even if he wanted to. Too much of it was missing or jumbled up into an awkward mess that he could not make much of them. The others he decided to keep to himself was his connection to Fenia - considering the reaction it produced during the funeral - and some of the more gruesome parts of his Emotional Blindness, namely the sacrifices each kill would be and the blood that splattered in the black realm with the pulsing light. He did not know what it meant and did not want to be executed for something he did not do nor believed in.


    ¡°I-I don''t know who I am. My memories are broken, and only small confusing parts remain. They flash whenever something feels familiar, but I am never able to understand what they mean,¡± Azeal¡¯s voice had become hoarse when he began to speak, his emotions taking their toll on him. He felt butterflies in his stomach, and hands had become clammy from sweat and nervousness. Gulping audibly he continued uninterrupted by Roland, who had a small grandfatherly smile start to appear. ¡°I also got an ability, I don''t know why or how, but it has caused me great suffering. If I had a choice, I would not have wanted it; the suffering was too great.¡±


    Azeal¡¯s body began to shake slightly at the memories of all the suffering he had been through. One by one, they flew past his mind¡¯s eye. Making it all more realistic and attainable. As this circle of depression continued, Roland¡¯s voice broke through it all and brought him back up. ¡°What skill is it? I am sure we can deal with anything below high tier,¡± said Roland oblivious to the extent of the struggles Azeal had faced.


    Laughing depreciative laugh, Azeal shook his head, ¡°It is called Blind Emotion, and it¡¯s a high tiered. So, you probably can''t do anything about it,¡± putting his head in his hands, and they propped up on his knees, he cradled it as he heard Roland gasp of surprise and disbelief.

 Update 2.0

    Hello!


    Thank you for your patience! Patreon is up and one chapter ahead. I will get another chapter in by Monday.


    My schedule will be one chapter a week every Thursday or Friday from now on. I will try to make them at the least 2000 words. I know it is a little, but any more and it really my story would begin to deteriorate. Nevertheless, please check it out. I don''t know if my teir lvls for your donations are skewed or good to you guys, so let me know!The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    P.s. Thank You in advance for any donations you give no matter how small. Every penny literally counts.


    P.s.s. Check Out A Blighted World and Crushing Hearts. Promised I would give him a shout out. Links in the note.


    Sincerely,


    Kazi223!

 Ch 34 | An Ocean Tide

    A field of lush and vibrant green grass, a valley of purple flowers, a savanna filled with life. These were the beauties found in this valley of peace. The inhabitants were a happy people, farming the fields around the flowers; feeding their family and living day to day. The purple flowers themselves were a religious sign that no matter the darkness that encroaches upon the weak they will somehow stand once again. A prophecy, sung by the greatest of soothsayers. And they all would sway to the unopposable winds of fate.


    These were things no more in the Hidemn¡¯s Fields. Trampled to death by the rhythmic march of an army so massive, they bled out of the fields and into the forest far to the west. A poetic beat of thundering steps, perfectly in synchronicity with their neighbor. A dull beat of drums echoed, leaders of the army. Black flags with nothing marring their perfect visage except a lower bone jaw with thick tusks spearing out of them.


    ¡°Owo!¡± The massive army spoke as one, shaking the already vibrating world. ¡°Owo!¡± they said again, a message to those that would witness the might that had been sent to battle. An army of armored dark orcs, their black and dark green skin glistening with sweat under the ever beating rays of the sun. Heavy armor adorned those in the front, riding upon beasts resembling wolves and others hideously deformed monstrosities only found near the gates to the abyss. Tamed and ridden into battle by the braveheart.


    Bellows echoed, the mounts guided by their capable riders. ¡°Owo!¡± the army spoke again, a pattern they had built from the day they began their long and treacherous march. Over and over it would be called. But, loudest of them all were the siege engines rolling through on large wheels; them plowing through the dirt and mud leaving their mark. Smoke rose from the gargantuan constructs, as a gurgling motor noise boomed forth from them. A quick beat to the slow and rhythmic march; creating a symphony of war and death.


    For miles, wagons trailed behind because of necessity. Some made of wood, brown in texture, with wooden wheels - some breaking along the path. Soldiers could be found running to and fro moving much-needed resources. While others wooden wagons trudging on to their final destination. But some were made of metal, behemoths of silver and dark gray colors.  They never stopped, continuing on through all types of weather and conditions. They, like all wagons of war, were filled with things needed to carry out such matters. Food, cloth, boots, weapons, and much more.


    On the side of the army, a mounted warrior on a wolf - a wolf-rider as they often were called - hurried past the army. His destination was much farther upfield. Faster and faster he rode, his long black and red ponytail fluttering behind him. The bones braided into his hair were cluttering and singing a frightening melody. His breath coming out in force past his tusks - one broken from previous battles - he did his best to make it on time. His gray mount was already breathing hard, a pain to see his friend put through such excursions. But they both knew a truth none could deny; it was never a good thing to make a War Leader wait.


    Tightening his knees, he pulled roughly on his mount towards the left, to get past the curve of the army and to the front were their leader led. Coming to slow gait, a bit away from the war leader, they - the mount and the warrior - watched as he rode upon a frightening beast. Their war leader was of a massive build, muscles bulging in herculean size, but had an incredible grace that made everyone who saw shiver. Black skinned, he had a face filled with scars and wedges from previous battles; a testimony to his battle prowess. He adorned an armor darker than he, it absorbed the light that surrounded him.


    To add to his frightening look was a helm designed to be as lifelike as possible, showing the hideous face of a hellwalker. The helm did not cover his face at all but instead was made to fill around his skull. The hellwalkers were massive beasts that spewed out of the gates of the abyss every few years. A legion of these gigantic creatures would threaten leagues upon leagues of lands. Their faces had a massive skull with bull-like horns. Sharp teeth jutted out of their jaws, no lips to cover the mess at all - gums and everything else - and two slits for a nose.


    The war leader was sitting on top of a giant beast with brown leathery skin, known to be extremely difficult to penetrate. Humpbacked, it had long spikes protruding out of its back in a circle leaving an area to sit on. With a long and muscled tail and claws that sank deeply into the ground every step, it came out to be almost twice the length of a riders wolves and one and a half wolf long. As the warrior came closer to the war leader the beast began to growl and snarl at them; warning them to step no closer. But, he pushed on anyways, the war leader needed his report.


    ¡°Juenous, you¡¯ve come, finally.¡± said the war leader as he turned to look at the warrior. His aged voice resounding in the air as power reverberated from every word he uttered. Motioning towards Juenous, the war leader waited until he spoke. Lowering his head, he spoke with reverence to the force of nature before him, ¡°War Leader, the fires had been stopped and the trees that had been damaged in the fire, made into ash or cut into kindling. Every tree burned, or cut was quickly replaced with a seed filled with life energy to grow with speeds unnatural.¡±


    Waiting, he stared at the furry neck of his companion. He did not want to seem insulting or show a lack of respect. For a while, the silence continued, and the war leader sat there contemplating the issue. But, eventually, with a heavy sigh, he asked, ¡°How did the fire start?¡± It seemed as though he did not want to find out, but he needed to. A burden Juenous would definitely not want to be placed on his own shoulders.


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    ¡°A test of fortitude gone wrong. They did not kill the fire entirely after they had left the scene. The ashes remained, but hidden between them were sparks that no one detected until they had become a blazing fire.¡± said Juenous, shivers running down his entire body.


    ¡°And the perpetrators?¡± said the War Leader as he looked away from him. ¡°They are being led here now by Muhal,¡± replied Juenous. After he answered silence bloomed once more, and the tension grew with it as the gradual march continued on. Finally, after a while, the perpetrators were pulled to the front, held in chains and lead by a short orc with dark green skin and a brown armor made of scales. The perpetrators, they were two, screaming and struggling they were brought in with nothing but their undergarments. As the accused, they were not allowed any weapons unless they chose to die by battle. The first was a fat warrior, his bulging stomach swaying with every massive step he took. And the other was one built of muscle.


    Raising his hand into the air, all chanting, beating of drums, roaring of beasts and siege engines alike, and murmurs came to a halt. Dead silence reigned supreme as the once loud marching army stopped by a single - nonverbal - command. Everyone saw the power that shook the fabric of reality itself in their eyes. Everyone was waiting, listening and watching what would happen next. ¡°Do you conspire against the motherland?!¡± The war leaders voice boomed across the valley, and those receiving his ire trying to step back in fear, only to be pushed back by those behind them. ¡°N-No!¡± They both stuttered, the fat one falling to his knees and the other barely holding himself as well.


    ¡°Then why do you burn the land our people?! The lands our women, children and elderly depend upon? Is it your goal to burn the heavy hopes and expectations placed on our shoulders because you could not carry them any longer?!¡± He demanded, his voice filled with anger and hands clenched around the spikes of his mount. Mirroring his mood, his mount bellowed in a fury, rising up to two feet than slamming back down in front of them.


    ¡°Plea-,¡± they both tried to beg but were quickly cut off by the war leader; he was not done. Their fates were sealed, but maybe their families would not suffer in consequence. ¡°Then what do you call what you have done? Treachery? Envy - none other than you deserve these lands? Or is it negligence?¡± he spoke with a softer voice, making it clear that they had no way out of their punishment. The first two held dire consequence for not only them but for their families as well. All related to them are to be executed, and any a close friend as well. But, the last gave them more honor in death. Their families would reap significant benefits, the lands they had achieved in battle given to them, and more so considering they would be given a fair share of this campaign.


    ¡°It is negligence! We are guilty of it and nothing more. Criminals of that act we attest too. Punish us as you see fit, War Leader. But give our families no suffering, for they go through enough in the motherlands,¡± cried the muscled one as he finally fell to his knees. He knew that coming back from this war was not a likely thing, but he had gone anyways for his family.


    ¡°It is so, hear me my great army! Hear my judgment! They are accused of great negligence, and so they have been found guilty. Their lives forfeit, but their families will be given bounties aplenty. The land they have acquired through battle and those they would have been given after this mission will be prepared for their families. It is why they are here.¡±


    With a wave of his hand, they were given a sword each. Death by battle was an honorable way to leave; a final courtesy their war leader gave them. With shaky hands and heavy hearts, they both stood to face their eventual death. In front of them was both Muhul and Juenous, without armor and only their favored weapons. Juenous carried a great-sword that stood taller than himself, while Muhul carried a massive Warhammer that seemed too heavy to even pick up, let alone wield usefully.


    With a rush in his step, the muscled man ran towards Muhal, taking his chances with him instead of locking swords with the Wolf of Temuilana. Straining his muscles to his greatest ability, he swung as a scream escaped his mouth. Aiming to decapitate Muhul, and maybe end this early. But luck was not on his side, Muhul - the experienced warrior he was - quietly stepped back as he raised his massive Warhammer with a single hand forcing the muscled man to overextend and miss him entirely. Pushing his weapon into the man, he had the stumbling orc on the ground. With a long-winded swing, his hammer came down without mercy. Crushing the chest of the muscled man.


    One would have expected cheers and hollers of joy to sound out, but nothing except a solemn silence filled the air. A brother had died, and forever would be taken away.


    The fat man did not have the same chances as his counterpart. No, with a slow tumbling gait, he charged his fat filled body towards Juenous expecting him to retreat a few steps. But unlike what he thought, Juenous stepped forward. Swinging wildly, the man did not even have a chance to widen his eyes in fear. A quick parry and a slash were all it took to cut him in half.


    Watching this, the War-leader closed his eyes. Speaking with a tired voice, he said,


    ¡°Today is a sad day. Two of our brothers have died, not by the hands of the Enemy, or those that horde the lands. No, they died by our hands. Forever may your souls shine brightly.¡±

 Ch 35 - Trouble And Trouble

    The Frank''s Estate was a massive structure surrounded by high walls. Going up more than fifteen floors - the spire of the court wizards - and thousands of feet wide. It was filled with all luxuries one would dream off, and even more so, since the little backwater village--the politicians thought they had fooled the family with--had boomed with multiple mines of precious metals and its positioning as a stop for slavers from all over the Duchies.


    But, it was known for one thing that was apparently vacant in the mountainous lands. It had a lush garden filled with singing birds and lively trees swaying to the strong currents of the wind. A massive field of green grass and ferns were strategically placed in perfect order - different from the arid lands and the brown long grass of the plains.


    Sitting in the garden, trying to find some solace in the utter beauty of nature, was Harold. He was sitting on an ornate chair of elven wood colored green to match the nature surrounding him. ¡°Please, can you repeat what you just said?¡± He asked Roland who was sitting in front of him with a weary smile. Today was getting worse and worse, not only did the little girl Azeal bought a few days ago destroy priceless family artifacts of the Franks, but she had somehow caused the Oel to stampede; injuring five soldiers seriously and three more house attendants. And now, Roland was telling him that everyone with a lick of intelligence - if they found out - would be charging at them for Azeal.


    ¡°Azeal has absolutely no connection with any Raug family or Clan. He is cut off from an entire family tree and is the only person in the Clan Neralum. He is unbound from any oaths or given word,¡± said Roland knowing full well that he was slowly easing Harold to not one, not two, but four more issues that had come up in the last few days since the talk. Harold would have a heart attack otherwise.


    Rubbing the bridge of his nose and eyes shut, he sighed heavily. How was everything going wrong at the same time, that Harold did not know? ¡°Though it makes his situation much worse, it should not change anything if he keeps wearing the helm. Thank the forgotten ones that the order had given me one so long ago,¡± said Harold, but stopped before he could continue. Roland had a mischievous smile and he did not like one bit of it.


    Clearing his throat, Roland straightened his back, a smile adorning his face. ¡°Azeal is carrying with him the ability to bestow the pure bloodline of the Seraphim to any he so chooses,¡± said Roland in a proper tone. As though he was introducing Azeal to a noble court. ¡°What ar-¡± Harold was absolutely horrified. The entire world would be knocking on his doors if the information was leaked. Yet, Roland did not let him finish. ¡°It does sound incredulous, Harold. But trust me, it gets much worse,¡± he said, mirth lining his voice.


    ¡°Worse? How? You are going to kill me with your words, Roland!¡± Harold began to shake his head, a resigned look on his face. ¡°Oh, yes. My dear Harold, it gets so much worse. Not only what I had stated previously, but there have been multiple traps I had set for spies and thieves had been triggered. Yet, none caught anyone or anything. We are dealing with masters here, Harold,¡± said Roland as he nodded his head, cutting of Harold one more time.


    ¡°Spies! Wh-¡± Harold''s eye twitched as he was cut off twice in a row. It had been a while since anyone spoken to him that way. And unless it was extremely important, he would have never allowed it.


    ¡°Harold, it will be easier for both of us if you would just let me finish. I, knowing already everything I had told you and will tell you, choose to teach him magic. Of course, this is without the expressed confirmation of The Academy,¡± Roland could not stop himself, he began laughing at how jaw dropped Harold looked and he had yet to tell him of the worst thing between them all.


    ¡°But, to top it all of, my friend, is a skill. Not just any skill, but a high tiered skill of the highest order. And it has yet to be fully unlocked,¡± said Roland, he knew it was coming and had been fully prepared to hear it all.


    ¡°CyclopseFu-¡± exclaimed Harold, but was cut off yet again.


    ¡°Father!¡± Admonished Lana who was sitting a bit farther away. Playing around with Nana as Sarah watched suspiciously from the side. ¡°Watch your tongue! Little Nana will learn your bad habits. We can''t have that, now can we, Little Nana,¡± said Lana as she had Nana on her lap patting her head, Nana shut her eyes cutely and smiled innocently. Grinning with an accomplished air, Lana plucked the brown brush made of coarse boar fur and wood out of the wild mane that was Nana¡¯s hair; she had somehow convinced her to stay still for a brushing.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Giving her a cute nickname does make her any less of a rascal. A demon sent from hell,¡± said Sarah while narrowing her eyes even more than they had been. She was staring at Nana with burning eyes and a bit of mana leaking from her body. Letting her distaste of the little girl visible to all. Then again, how would one blame her after Nana had poured a bucket of cold water on her after sleeping past the twelfth-bell? Her excuse was a simple, ¡°Mama said good girls wake up early. I don''t want aunty Sarah to be a bad girl,¡± with her wide eyes, gap-toothed smile and pigtails, it had become impossible to punish her; no matter how much Sarah wanted it.


    ¡°Sarah, hold your tongue and speak no more! How could you accuse the most adorable thing in the world of such a thing! She is an angel sent from heaven, aren''t you sweety,¡± said Lana as she continued to struggle in straightening the little girl''s hair. While Nana simply nodded her head enthusiastically, ¡°I am an angel Aunty Sarah,¡± her smile would have brightened the world had Sarah been less suspicious.


    Zoning the bickering girls out, Harold brought his attention back to Roland. Too many things were going wrong at the same time, it did not bode well for an easy future - as he had imagined his life in Thols to be. ¡°We will solve each problem, one by one. But first, let us deal with the more immediate issue,¡± said Harold as he looked away to a tree farther out in the garden. Under it sat Azeal, cloak and all, meditating as he had been told by Roland. Next to him, was his Oel Mount, the one that would not stay in the stables or the pastures after being separated from him for a few days. Sleeping soundly, she was there to protect Azeal from any interruption or assault, especially from the little devil. Always with an eye open, and muscles ready for battle.


    ¡°What skill does he have? And how bad is the price?¡± As he asked that, Harold remembered watching Azeal seemingly shiver in the heat as they were traveling a while ago. He hadn''t prodded much then, and it came out to be a mistake. He shook his head at his own mistake. How much had he suffered before Roland just happened to find out? When it could have all ended if he had not relented.


    ¡°It''s really bad, I am sure you have heard of the skill Blind Emotion?¡± Asked Roland, if anyone knew more than he did about skills it would be Harold. While he had heard it was a racial skill and a very limiting one, he was unsure of its origins, what race carried it, or what''s its effects were. Harold''s reaction made Roland¡¯s thoughts even sounder. ¡°Poor, fool. Taking all that suffering alone,¡± said Harold, barely over a whisper, yet loud enough for Roland to hear.


    Looking Roland in the eyes, Harold took a deep breath. This couldn''t have been happening. ¡°Blind Emotion is a skill native to those with partial Seraphim blood. It gives them the ability to see emotions on the most intimate level. Diluted through time, the skills effects weakened but the core of it stayed strong. Because of this, the half seraphim locked themselves on the Isles of Night with the Night Elves; who can, to a small degree affect the how much emotion they can convey.¡± Harold turned away to stare at Azeal again. His thoughts in turmoil.


    Damn it! How could I have allowed someone - under my care - to suffer so much?


    Aloud, he continued to speak, his voice wavering a bit, ¡°They lock themselves away because the emotions would drive them mad if they are exposed to it for a few days. And from within them comes out darkness and evil... I have yet to read of others more so. They become full-blooded Upir. And they terrorized the world of old.¡±


    Harold was about to continue, but a red-faced Lemer rushed in; his face almost matching his red hair. Though he did not have anger on his face but fear and great worry. Quickly he came to the table Harold was seated in, everyone except the oblivious Azeal - even the ever watchful Buttercup - looked up to watch what would make him throw away with the etiquettes of a noble by barging into a family''s gathering unannounced. Lemer was a stickler for the rules and manners a noble must conduct themselves with. Him throwing it all away means something horrific had to have happened. And today was a perfect day for the world to collapse it seemed to Harold.


    Lemer tried speaking, but his words kept stumbling their way out into an incoherent mess. Throwing all forms of decorum out the window, he grabbed a drink that had been set for Harold on the table, and then gulped it all in one breath. Slamming the cup down, he ignored Roland¡¯s questioning gaze or Harold''s indignation. He pushed a rolled pack of parchment to Harold and stuttered out his words.


    ¡°G-General! General, Fort Chylium fell twenty-three days ago! And Titus was killed! A tide of Dark Orcs, numbers unlike ever before, have broken the defensive lines! Yet, they can''t be found!¡±

 Notice/Update

    Hey,


    Its...been a long time. Too long for anyones'' good to be truthful. Yet, that is how life is sometimes. As you may or may not know, I have been under extreme stress via work and school. (I work seven days a week 10hr shifts and go to Univ. full time).


    I know, I promised to finish this story. And I found a way for it to happen...


    A friend of mine, very close to me personally will take hold of this project after his current one. Which may be a few months unless he chooses to juggle both at the same time, which is cool too. How anyone does that, I will never know.


    Anyways, his username on RR is The Juggernaut, in the works of a dark fantasy The Warden or something of that ilk...don''t let him know I haven''t read it lolThis story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    At this point, two things matter very much,


    1- Beta Readers - I want to have a few willing to make it easier on him to transition into the story and keep it alive. Who better than my awesome readers! Pm him or comment here and I will let him know you are interested.


    2. An Editor - We authors suck at grammar. It''s like our kryptonite! I need a few of yall lovely peoples to do what we authors are almost failures at.


    I know, for someone who is gone then back on again, I ask a lot. If you couldn''t care less about me, then do it for the story. Do it for the characters that beg to be given life, extracted from the blank canvas they exist in; the immaterial existence they are without ink on paper. Give them happiness, joy, sadness, and loss. Give them a reason to continue to live.


    P.s. Oh, yea! Almost forgot, but if anyone wants to read his dark fantasy mention it down on the comments too! He deserves it for helping me out.


    Sincerely,


    Kazi223