《Forward is The Day》 Prologue - The God Of Chaos Forward Is The Day Part One: Flux Prologue - The God Of Chaos ¡°My name is: God¡± The soul didn¡¯t know what to say. It just sat there legs crossed, its form vaguely human radiating an orange light, something that bespoke warmth and kindness. It looked to the creature before it, the one claiming to be a god. They were alone. The world around them stretched on, some form of cruel limbo, a construct built from an infinite oblivion of white. To look upon this plain of existence with a mortal mind would drive one mad, the world undulated, moved twisted, it shattered any pre-conceptions of time and space the soul had once held for here time and space were irrelevant. In the world beyond not a second had passed and yet all the worlds, the lights in the heavens that he had once known, dictating the passage of eons, they could have been dust. And to this place they were both. ¡°You seem distracted, tell me what¡¯s on your mind.¡± Its voice was gentle nearly child like in its innocence. Time¡­ Is fleeting, is constant, is annoying There were no words only vague concepts that the soul could display. ¡°Very insightful; I myself never really bothered with time, atleast not like this, it¡¯s far easier to just stay in a liminal form. Localising ones consciousness beyond time can get rather confusing no?¡¯ The God laughed squatting down before the Soul so they were eye to eye. Well that wasn¡¯t quite true the God had no eyes, only circles, rings within its head where the eyes should have been. This being named God was strange as if comprised of darkness, an animated shadow, to one viewing it, it would appear two-dimensional all light absorbed by its body, preventing depth. ¡°You may be curious why I brought you here, why you are not enjoying some happy afterlife. It¡¯s simple in your life you did nothing, nothing good nothing bad and what little you did to sway the scales you immediately tipped back into place, you were neutral in all things. Even your final actions were pointless.¡± The God grinned.
Jacob Stoker sat within a heavy leather armchair a book in his hands. He was at that age where people were unsure whether to treat him as a child or an adult. He was roughly shaven not yet accustomed to the habit due to his own lack of work ethic never bothering to build a routine. For the same reason his hair was ragged and hung about his face nearly obscuring his eyes. He held a book in his hand three more in the back sitting at the foot of the chair. ¡°I¡¯ll be done in a moment sir!¡± The woman in the counter leaned over and waved at me. Jacob nodded silently yawning. ¡°What a pain.¡± He whispered rubbing his face trying to fight off tiredness that clung to him like a gauze. ¡°Ugh, damn Murphy¡¯s law.¡± He groaned slamming his head into the cover of the book clutched in his hands. The old woman sitting opposite him, a magazine in hand chuckled flipping through the pages, refusing to settle on one article for more than a moment. Her gnarled hands shaking as she did. A fan set in the wall whirred and that same smell that denoted anything of age still seemed to hang about the room. He was sitting in a bank and due to his own to his own misfortune, he was going to have make a large withdrawal. It would have been fine if the ATM outside had been working but no, it had to be broken some idiotic kid had jammed what appeared to be a jam sandwich into the machine. Who ate jam sandwiches anyway? He shook my head. The only reason he was in this town in the first place was because his car had broken down, that was what he got for letting his Dad pick on out. His parents had asked him to house sit for them while they took a weekend long holiday to Iceland. They had planned the whole thing in advance setting up their trip around one of his brakes from school, yet they had only told him about it yesterday. He had spent the first day of his break driving through the English countryside, after getting lost on some side road. He¡¯d eventually stopped in this town whose name he didn¡¯t know and took a quick brake for an ice cream cone. When he returned the Car wouldn¡¯t restart. To cut an already long story short, the nearest garage said that it would cost eighty pounds and take a little over a day. He¡¯d paid them strait off and then decided to pick up some extra funds at the local bank, which luckily (or so he thought) was the same branch as he used. Well with the ATM broken he¡¯d considered just lying on a bench in the sun for a couple of hours but had decided to go inside anyway. It was a bad decision. The door leading into the waiting room burst open. The young woman who had called to him to wait earlier came flying in. Her body slid across the floor as she cried out in pain. Small droplets of blood span through the air and before he knew it Jacob was faced with a quartet of masked men. Each lugged a pistol in one hand, white, theatrical, masks covered their faces the letters; A, B, C, and D were printed on each. A was clearly the leader carrying a rifle instead of a small pistol. B and C pointed their pistols at the Old woman and Jacob. The deaf old lady hadn¡¯t even realised what was going on, her hearing aids must have been broken. ¡°Alright you bastards, hand over anything of value!¡± The leader yelled swinging the rifle around so the but smashed into the table, the wood splintering. His mind went blank, rushing he undid his watch and handed it over before reaching around in the pockets of his coats and pulling forth anything of worth. D marched forward with a duffle bag, the only one lacking a pistol. Jacob tossed in the watch, his ¡®ancient¡¯ mobile and all the change he had in his pockets which for some reason was limited to one and two p coins. ¡°Screw this!¡± D yelled kicking him in the stomach before moving over to the old lady. Jacob coughed holding his stomach bent over onto his knees. The old woman threw down all her valuables gathered in her hands. ¡°ring too.¡± A grunted levelling his rifle at her, a low chuckle racking his body, the old woman who stared up in fear. ¡°Please no, it¡¯s all I have left of¡­¡± She was cut off as D swung out striking her across the face with the back of his hand. In that instant his body moved as if it possessed its own will. Jacob barrelled into the robber, knocking him forwards before grabbing him by the back of his shirts and throwing him into his comrades. It was then that the sirens had the fortuitous luck to sound out; the police had arrived. But for him it was a tolling bell. ¡°Cut and run!¡± A yelled: swinging his rifle around at Jacob a thunderous blast sounding in his ears. Before he had a chance to react, he was dead. Jacob didn¡¯t feel a thing, his death was too fast, one moment he was standing there, and the next he had entered a realm of darkness before being spewed into the bizarre limbo he currently inhabited.
¡°Now it¡¯s time for you to make a choice: will you stay dead or will you go on living?¡± God questioned. The soul tried to make reply but was stopped as the God raised a hand to silence him, finger to nonexistent lips. ¡°Of course you will not live within your old world.¡± His words shocked the soul to no small degree. Live It was a simple urge that compelled the soul to his decision, his former life had been unfulfilled and cut short, perhaps through his own fault. He regretted only one thing though ¨C he never had a real friend. For that reason alone he decided. ¡°Excellent¡± God clapped his hands but no sound was made. God marched forward standing tall and placed a hand on the soul¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The world you will be going to is called Alfiel, and you¡¯ll find yourself in the country of yagore.¡± The soul did not respond, it saw no reason to; still it was elated by this change its appearance reflecting that its shade turned from orange to gold. ¡°Of course having a chance at a new life comes at a price!¡± The God laughed, a pure white grin, like a crescent moon in an inky sky grew across its face. Its gripped tightened to the point the fingers dug through the body of the soul. ¡°For a soul you are remarkably well put together, able to maintain a form like its nothing, you truly had no fear of death! I¡¯m interested in seeing what you will do. I want to see you do something great, but it¡¯d be no fun if it weren¡¯t a challenge. From you I will be taking, your vitality, your strength, your speed and your endurance! After all even a God has to play to equilibrium; Reincarnation isn¡¯t free, this¡¯ll be the price for your survival, not being purged in the ebonfire.¡± The god laughed placing a hand on the souls other shoulder preventing it from struggling out of his grasp. About the souls body lines began to form, veins of dark power bulging out, running to the centre of its being. The God removed its hands. The dark power being expelled leaving the soul a pale grey unable to moveUnauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Why? The soul wailed its form jumping and shaking unnaturally, warping out of its previous state as if unstable. The God sneered leaning forwards placing a hand over what had been its head and now was a slanting mass of grey. ¡°You manage to survive until level thirty and I¡¯ll tell you.¡± He grinned pushing the soul backwards to stumble through the white realm. Behind the Soul a dark portal opened rimmed with red light, an infinite abyss waiting beyond. He plunged in. His ethereal form put through a hell unlike anything a mortal mind can imagine, beyond the limitations of flesh he was bathed in flames that engulfed all, creeping into his mind and dragging out all he was¡­ It was then that the newborn babe opened his eyes, without a word, without a cry. The Soul knew it was alive, its memories of its former world hazy but still there; a single fragment of its former self gleaming brightly: attacked by a god, woe, pain, death¡­ Chaos. Filling him with dread. Yet he made not sound, just lay there looking at the ceiling in shock, he was alive, he was really alive. But his breathing was hard, his body hurt immeasurably, it felt like a spiders thread was holding him together; an inch above oblivion ¡°I¡¯m sorry, the baby didn¡¯t make it.¡± an old yet gentle voice whispered, a woman¡¯s voice. There was a choked cry of pain and sadness from another. ¡°Should I take the body to the church?¡± the woman questioned. ¡°No.¡± a haggard one replied, He could hear it in the rasping tone the weakness and the pain. He could just barely see something move past him. He was small, weak, helpless, just lying there. As the woman left, the remaining voice was wracked with weeping, sorrowful cries that echoed about the room, cries of mourning and loss. The woman was young her hair auburn, her eyes a light brown, She had her hands clenched over her chest as she lay within the bed swathed deep in blankets. She had just given birth to her son, yet he was dead, lying in the cot they had picked out for him¡­ Dead. She got up slowly moving across the room wiping the tears from her eyes. She approached the cot, with shaky movements, the floorboards creaking beneath her, a shaft of sunlight falling through window catching particles of dust within its wake. She looked down on the silent face cast within the radiance of the sun as dark eyes; nearly black stared back at her. She scrunched up her face looking at those eyes, they were his eyes, she reached out to touch his skin cold as ice and then noticed. His eyes followed her hand. The baby blinked impassive looking up at her. The Mother pulled her hands to her mouth tears pouring from her eyes. He was alive. He was alive! Those were his first memories of the world of Alfiel, He could not understand the woman not a word she said but she kept repeating something over and over again ¡°Arth¡± He could feel her body warm against his, the sunlight pouring through the window and her pure ecstatic joy. The hows whys and wherefores seemed lost within that simple embrace. So he did what he could, he slept hopping the dream would not end.
Anna Felcite At first she had thought it a miracle that her Son was alive; their child lived and breathed, could live a happy life in his fathers stead. But she quickly realised that something was very wrong with the boy. He had already fallen asleep by the time she realised; even now his body was cold like a corpse. For a brief moment she thought he was an undead. With this panic spinning through her mind she looked down at him, looked into his eyes. No he was alive he was human; she could sense mana leaking from his body. A surprisingly high amount enough for a level two or three Mage. Worried she muttered a small chant beneath her breath. In an instant a status screen popped up in front of her. Usually it was only possible to view ones status screen and make amendments through a prayer to the god a person owes allegiance to. But certain spells could reveal the stats of another person in an equal measure.
Name: Arth Felcite
Age: 0
Level: Lv1
Race: Human
Vitality: 1
Endurance: 1
Strength: 1
Speed: 1
Dexterity: 18
Wisdom: 22
Intelligence: 26
Allegiance: (none)
Fame: 0
Alignment: (positive) +22
She took in a deep breath unable to believe what she was seeing. Both his wisdom and intelligence were high, abnormally so but his physical abilities were all low, he was weak fragile. The lightest tap could shatter him. Anna had a horrid vision of dropping her newborn son and him fracturing into many fragments like a pane of glass. She looked out of the window. The setting noon sun had already begun to dip into the horizon. She reached about her hand and grabbed a series of blankets swaddling the newborn among their folds. She left the house in a hurry, travelling barefoot only a single cast iron lantern, the oil burning low, to guide her through the approaching gloom of the evening. The wind was harsh and cold, whipping and lashing as she rushed past through the country roads. The Yagore kingdom was weak sitting on the borders between the greater kingdom of Jundore to the northwest and the Xinder Empire to the east. They were constantly being attacked and invaded; the royal family was weak constantly changing hands between the two nations, and their two ideologies constantly being switched. It led to a bizarre religion praising both sets of gods half the populace capable of using the status screens and levelling system of Jundore (a holy gift from their gods) the other half possessing longer life spans as well as heightened physical abilities derived from the Xinder Empire. The sides were known as the adventurers and the cultivators respectively. The village of Gunmar lay directly on the border of Xinder, but was protected by the Andell Mountains and had never suffered occupation by the foreign power so still held a firm adventurer culture. Anna was a mage; level eighty-two; she specialised in healing magic so was well cared for by the little village of roughly thirty households the general area having just over a hundred people the local lord settled into the village itself due to the protection of the mountains. But here healing magic would be of no use, there was nothing wrong with the child but his body was weak, so weak it shouldn¡¯t even have been possible. Some children were born with a weak constitution true, but that usually meant a three or four in one of their stats never bellow. a creature with stats as low as these could be compared to the strength of a mouse. Anna cried as she ran. Only the grace of the gods would aid her now. The church stood at the end of the lane just off of the main square of the little village. She hurtled across the stone flags to the curious gazes of all those around her as they saw the swaying lantern flicker and her tear stained face. With a pulse of magic the doors of the church flew open. The tall building of grey stone echoed with the sound of her footsteps. The priest, Father Ottoban, was lighting candles at the altar of each of the minor gods the offerings at the feet of the statues of the greater gods were already cinders. A young acolytes flame magic having quickly immolated the offerings. ¡°My child I¡¯m sorry for your loss¡± the father spoke his voice tired and rambling his eyes tinged red from the smoke given off by the tributes and incense. ¡°Mrs Zerile, told me about the tragedy, have you come to have him cremated or buried?¡± The father questioned. ¡°He¡¯s not dead!¡± Anna cried clutching at her chest tears streaking down her face. The Father looked sadly on the woman, it was clear she was stressed; She had just recently lost her husband and now her son. Delusions were expected. He shook his head placing a hand on her shoulder ¡°He¡¯s dying!¡± she continued. The father perked up his head in confusion and saw what lay within her arms. He peeled back the blankets and saw the form of an infant within. It was pale, its skin cold as ice, he could not sense a heartbeat. For a second he was worried the woman had gone mad, lost in her grief and woe. Then he saw it. The child¡¯s eyes rolled in its head hands clenching and unclenching. ¡°How is this possible?¡± The father muttered stepping back ¡°Is it some disease?¡± if the child carried a contagious disease that they could not cure it would have to be destroyed, no matter how callous the action might seem. ¡°No, I checked his stats¡± Anna cried clutching the child. The Father flinched slightly. It was taboo to check another¡¯s stats unless in a life or death situation it was considered akin to peering into their soul. ¡°His strength, Vitality, speed and endurance are all one, a single point¡± She stated tears streaming down her face. The Father stood in shock. That was impossible such a creature shouldn¡¯t have been able to survive. Yet drawing close to the child, with just a look he could sense it, the frailty behind the being. ¡°Nammia!¡± the father yelled at the young acolyte maybe four or five years old. ¡°Bring me holy water and inscription devices.¡± The father moved to the end of the church pushing aside the altars and moving the statues with a strength that fitted a former level ninety-two paladin. He began to set up the alters of the minor gods around between the statues until they formed a circle at the centre of the church. After an incident with a rogue orc roughly twelve years ago his wife dying in the attack he¡¯d developed this technique for just such an occasion. But a few requirements had to be met: One the subject had to be willing, two they could not hold an allegiance to any God and three their luck would have to be outstanding. The young girl came stumbling back panicked, the equipment in her hand ¡°Not that holy water the powerful stuff, every element we have in stock!¡± He barked. His wiry frame seeming to exude strength and command. The acolyte nodded dropping the items to the floor and brushing back her ragged red hair as she ran. Father Ottoban grabbed the inscription device, a long iron rod with a sharp end blessed by the greater god Iluross: god of light. Anna looked on with a sense of confusion and hope, but the child¡¯s hands were starting to curl, even the cool temperature of the room was starting to kill him. He was too weak. Time was running out. Nimmia returned with roughly eight jugs of holy water. The father had already finished his inscription on the churches floor: a gigantic circle, one that would need ten men to link arms to come close to recreating the circumference. The father had been frantic etching curving lines through the circle into an array leading from one statuette to another denoting the flow of power between each of the gods the symbols on the floor glowing white. The difference here was the introduction of the statues. And what appeared to be a strengthening ward and healing spell combined in runic forms. It was something only a paladin (masters of many forms of light and healing magic, as well as arms) could perform. Ottoban poured the holy water onto the ground forming a layer over the circle and focusing the medium. Soon the liquid neared the end of the circle and risked pouring out. But before this could happen it appeared to hit a wall at the edge of the barrier. The father reached out asking for the child. Anna handed him over gently the father removing the blankets exposing a skinny body, the bones jutting out to the empty air. The Father laid the child down in the centre of the circle. The light about them seemed to grow becoming more and more powerful until eventually it reached a climax. And spluttered out the torches in the church dying low, strange arcs of flame rising and falling to and from the ground running over the engravings within the circle. It contained all the colours of the rainbow the patterns on the floor seeming so vibrant they were alive and removing themselves from the stone. Then it happened. The world was shattered as an unearthly presence appeared before them. She was cloaked and hidden, disguised by a black hood. Anna tried to move forward frightened beyond belief. ¡°No.¡± The father growled looking on ¡°It is the only chance he has.¡± ¡°Ah my little one.¡± The voice was feminine the woman plucking him from the floor the holy water mixing beneath her feet as she absorbed it all within her cloak. ¡°So weak and so frail, yet with so much potential: I can see Chaos¡¯ hand in this¡­ No matter, he probably planned this all out, never can fight that fool.¡± She reached out placing a finger on the child¡¯s head ¡°I name you Cruor and give you my blessing, in exchange I take your magic¡± She approached the edge of the barrier laying the child down before looking up strait at Anna. The woman saw something few ever saw and fell to her knees hands covering her mouth fear instilled in her heart, a deep pang flowing through her blood and keeping her locked within place. She wanted to protect her child from the monstrosity but could not move an inch. ¡°Congratulations, you have given birth to a wonderful son.¡± The figure declared standing strait ¡°Just remember as much as he is yours, now he is also mine. You gave him his body, I gave him his life; it¡¯s a promise¡± She winked those eyes of hers and vanished into mist. It was then that Anna decided to protect her son no matter what the cost¡­ Chapter One - Quiet life Chapter One: Quiet life That same little window through which the sun once shone; was old and dusty, well in need of a caring hand but finding it lacking. He was sitting in the middle of the room, atop a padded carpet every wall, each inch of free space taken over by masses on masses of books. Arth sat there happily, without a care the sunlight from the window on his bare feet, while his eyes skimmed over one of the more recent editions to his library. That is not to say he hadn¡¯t read the story before merely that he hadn¡¯t read it as much as the others. ¡°Perhaps I should visit Naulo.¡± He whispered thinking of the little lord of Gunmar. ¡°Nah, I¡¯ve read all the books in his library, maybe I can finally convince Cillia to lend me some of magical tomes.¡± He sighed knowing how unlikely that was; he never could understand why she refused to let him read them. He sighed standing up and moving towards the door. He pushed it aside and entered the living room, his mother had already for her daily rounds, probably a couple of house calls. he smiled noticing the mass of food she had placed on the table before hand. ¡°What did I do to deserve such a loving mother.¡± He sighed sitting ¡°Though Chaos if you hear me up there, It¡¯s not like I forgive what you did to me, I¡¯ll become strong, I¡¯ll reach level thirty and only when you beg and grovel will I accept your apology.¡± he laughed to himself before digging into the meal. A good eight minutes later he was back to his former conundrum; how to kill the time, how to stave of the sense of boredom encroaching on the lovely day he was trying to experience¡­ The only answer which came to mind was to go bug Naulo. He sighed taking the medical kit his mother always insisted he carry and attaching it to his waste. He moved towards the door. There was a heavy knock, resounding through the air. With a grin he opened the door to see a towering figure before him. Blonde hair, broad shoulders, standing over six-foot and with deep blue eyes. Naulo smiled down at him. ¡°Well speak of the devil, and he shows up here.¡± Arth laughed inviting Naulo in. ¡°I don¡¯t know what this has to do with demons but sure.¡± Naulo laughed his voice reverberating around the room. He knew well enough not to question or antagonise Arth, otherwise he¡¯d be plagued by the smart arsed attitude that he always used to talk circles around him. ¡°So why, have you visited by humble abode?¡± Arth questioned with a grin. Naulo sighed. ¡°Cillia sent me, Something about her latest project.¡± ¡°You know ever since she contacted that high and mighty god of flames she¡¯s been constantly working, we never just enjoy ourselves.¡± ¡°That¡¯s mainly because your idea of enjoying yourself is just sitting there reading something, I want to train and Cillia wants to torment the pair of us into proper men.¡± Naulo replied with a chuckle. ¡°True¡­ But it was fun, we used to spend whole days out on the hillside just doing what we enjoyed.¡± ¡°Yeah it was fun. Well we¡¯d better get going or we¡¯ll face her wroth.¡± Naulo laughed standing, before walking to the door and pushing it open for him. Arth followed pausing before the entrance and reaching to the side to grasp his cane in hand.
Anna Felcite ¡°Now dear open wide!¡± She called, the mother forcing the child¡¯s mouth open. Anna pushed the spoon inside, a simple medicine true but with a little spell to increase potency it would become remarkably effective. ¡°Thank you Anna, We¡¯ll bring over the payment this evening.¡± Mrs Hayder proclaimed with a grin as she released the young girl who was still recovering from a bout of oldans fever. ¡°No need to harry yourself dear.¡± Anna replied with a gentle smile. ¡°Your family has always been good to us.¡± Mrs Hayder nodded ¡°Nammia bringing your son around has been a big help for us, taught my daughters to mind their manners.¡± Anna chuckled at that. She adored her son and while he was physically weak, no one could deny his ability to win an argument, as far as she knew he had never lost a battle of wits, her little scholar. She smiled to herself nodding. ¡°I¡¯m just glad he has some friends, he really needs a normal childhood.¡± That was her fondest wish for her son that he would socialise more, even for an introvert he was sealed off, he rarely did anything concerning other people and preferred to be left alone. Ever since he was young she had noticed that, In his first year or so of life she had prevented him from ever leaving the house, he was too weak, the tiniest bite from a spider could have killed him. So she spent most of her day playing with and caring for him. She immediately noticed his heightened intelligence playing a significant role in his life. Intelligence usually only increased a persons mana, memory capacity and efficiency but with Arth it seemed he held an impressive mind able to understand anything he saw. By his first year on Alfiel he¡¯d managed to get a solid grasp of language, not just speaking but writing as well. It was honestly quite terrifying. The power he would have welt were his physical abilities even average or he held his magical power would have made him a jewel that kingdoms would have fought for in a couple of years. But now all he was; was a cripple. He¡¯d lost his magic that day they held the ceremony, and he was unable to connect to any God. He¡¯d tried many times after learning some people were born with magic but the results were pitiful. Still his understanding of the theories and ideas were phenomenal, like he could see the secrets behind the world. She felt sad just considering what her son could have had. But she knew well enough that even without magic his intelligence would one day get him recognised. She smiled as she saw him approach.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. In his right hand he held his cane trudging forwards with a weary smile. It often took him a long time to get anywhere with or without the tool, his endurance was just to low. She reached forward and embraced him as he approached. ¡°Get off of me!¡± he screamed trying to resist. She chuckled lightly looking over him again. ¡°Now don¡¯t be rude, I love you.¡± ¡°This is embarrassing,¡± He muttered stepping away. She laughed watching him duck past her and into the house. Without even greeting the occupants¡¯ mother, he was certainly turning into a little troglodyte.
Arth Felcite He pushed through the doorway avoiding his Mother. The woman was truly obsessive he¡¯d known her for fourteen years and now he knew to avoid her. Naulo laughed patting his shoulder ¡°Bare with it.¡± Arth huffed looking around and leaning against the wall. ¡°Hey Cillia we¡¯re here!¡± Naulo yelled. Arth coughed lightly, the Hayder¡¯s house was the second largest in town with two stories and an extension into the family¡¯s smithy. Micho Hayder head of the family and the father of both Cillia and Nimmia as well as the youngest daughter Tallia (The man had a rather blunt naming sense) was a giant of a man standing just shy of seven feet and nearly half as broad, people said he had the blood of giants but I doubted that, Giants and Cyclops¡¯s tended to know how to shave or were naturally bald I¡¯d have said Micho had more in common with the dwarves considering the beard that hung to his waist, which was rather impractical for a smith. He was currently sitting at the family dinning table sipping from a mug that was miniscule in comparison to his immense form. Though he seemed to be fairly relaxed today. ¡°She¡¯s upstairs tinkering with some enchantments.¡± He rumbled his voice weary, he¡¯d probably pulled an all nighter on a rush job or something similar, Arth had spent years in this house watching him work. He respected the man for his craft if nothing else. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Arth sighed climbing up the stairs with his cane. Micho nodded looking Arth in the eyes ¡°Make sure to knock, you know what she¡¯s like.¡± He smiled at the heavyset man and nodded. Arth had always liked Micho, he was one of the few people who didn¡¯t look at him with pity. The duo walked up the stairs making their way to a side room. They knocked twice before a heavy grunt was heard from inside. Arth entered first looking about the mess of the room. Books and scrolls along with many reference notes were scattered around the room. Cillia was hunched over at her desk an ink brush in her hand. Cillia was short more resembling her mother more than her father, though she was slender and had a shock of red hair held back by white cloth wrapped around her forehead. Arth spoke up. ¡°So what¡¯s this latest project, you must be pretty stuck, if you¡¯re willing to ask me for help. Where¡¯s that stubborn pride.¡± Cillia was just a beginner at magic and hadn¡¯t graftuated to the point where she could cast silently. so she was limited to using incantations, magical circles and runes among other techniques. ¡°I want your opinion before I use it.¡± She huffed. She had always hated asking Arth for help, she was a couple of months older than him and always hated it when anyone did better than her. She was incapable of accepting his knowledge of magic was better than hers even though she had more intelligence points in her stat (seeing as she had reached level three recently and invested all her stats into intelligence meaning she was just smarter than me) it didn¡¯t help her studies though. ¡°Everything seems up to scratch at first glance.¡± Arth muttered grabbing her work and sitting on the floor. It was a runic tree a series of many lines connecting runes the lines denoting the flow of magic, similar to circuitry. He pulled out a quill and an inkpot he always carried with him. ¡°The efficiency is low though, you need to have darker runes with clearer drawings. He removed a piece of paper a tenth the size of her drawing. Naulo leaned over to watch as Cillia huffed looking at him with discontent. His hands scrawled across the page flowing, he¡¯d taken her designs and using his own knowledge compounded the many singular branches of the spell into a single array (which happened to be his specialty) taking minor information from sigil magic to improve the flow of mana through the spell. He handed it over after making a second copy for himself in case she ruined the current one (which seeing as how her specialty was fire and the rune was drawn on paper was pretty likely) he grinned at her. ¡°Don¡¯t show off, my sister is a better spell caster than you will ever be.¡± ¡°Hmm, we¡¯ll see about that!¡± Arth laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t get too big for your boots.¡± Naulo warned.
Anna Felcite She was making her way home, the wind low shaking the grass. The air was warm even for summer though it lacked the humidity that usually came with it. She was thankful Arth tended to get muscle pains when the weather was too damp. In the distance she could see something coming. Less than a mile away, men on horse and they were riding fast. She knew what she was seeing immediately the weapons the blades, they may have lacked any identifying crest but it was clear who these men were. She dropped her shopping, the wicker basket warping and breaking apart as it hit the ground. She began to move, back towards the village as fast as she could. They had roughly ten minutes to prepare for what awaited them. She was scared, scared for her son, scared for her village, scared for her life. ¡°Attack!¡± She screamed looking left and right. ¡°From the North-East: riders coming in, over a hundred. Everyone run, we have to escape!¡± From the stunned crowd they appeared like shadows, several men in heavy black cloaks carrying small blades. Confirming the foe that they were to face. Anna grit her teeth, the first one approached her dagger slashing out pale green flames leaving the steel blade. Anna stepped back and grabbed the mans hand sending a pulse of inverted healing magic through his body. He collapsed right there and then. Her ability to reverse healing magic was something most healers possessed, of course it was limited but against foes like these, lacking any form of projectile weapon, she was unstoppable. Another two leapt forwards slashing towards her. She avoided their attacks as the crowd immediately turned to run. She ended up delivering a strike to the bodies of one of the men, his mouth beginning to foam as he fell backwards. Any weakness in the body she could manipulate to destroy a person, to her a common cold was a blade in its sheath just waiting for her to let it free and run havoc through a living body. The final one approached stabbing at her neck. She avoided the riposte and placed her hand on his chest, his rib cage cracking as her mana invaded his body. Then she felt it, a small pinprick on her neck, she fell forwards her body striking the stones. But not before seeing the burly form of Micho appearing behind the man that had attacked her from the crowd the darts in his hand scattered through the air the bright plumage making them spin as they fell as a rain of blood flew from the assailant. Anna blacked out. Chapter Two - Tolling of the bells Chapter Two: Tolling of the bells A bell was ringing out loud and long; the world seemed to shake from its power. The church bell, this was an emergency. Arth looked up from where he sat panicked. He knew the protocol, get to the church, no stopping no resting, no matter what get to the church. The last time that bell and rang he was but a newborn babe, still he could remember it, an A class monster had attacked: level-two-hundred and requiring a team of A class adventurers to fight it off. Not before what basically amounted to an armoured fire breathing bear the size of a house had demolished eight buildings and killed two whole families who were not fast enough to reach the church along with its holy wards. ¡°What the hell?¡± Cillia questioned looking out of the window. ¡°We need to go now!¡± Arth yelled standing up. The movement was too fast, He felt his body quiver, pain launching through his chest, like fire, before stumbling backwards. Cillia looked on in shock before grabbing him and lowering him to the floor back resting against the wall. ¡°Relax don¡¯t push yourself we can figure this out.¡± She looked towards Naulo. ¡°We should stay put for now, we have no idea what¡¯s out there, if we rush in we could be killed.¡± Arth spluttered shaking his head. ¡°The church is our only hope, we wait to long we may not get the chance later.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t!¡± Naulo yelled slamming his fist down. Both Arth and Cillia looked to him in shock ¨C Naulo never raised his voice, never shouted, was never aggressive, even if he was obnoxious. ¡°Calm down.¡± Cillia ordered looking at the pair of them ¡°Naulo you¡¯ll attract whatever¡¯s out there and Arth if you stress yourself you¡¯ll end up hurting yourself even worse.¡± She supported him, helping him to his feet and handing him his cane. ¡°Okay then Naulo your idea: explain.¡± Naulo looked shocked for a movement before gaining a bitter look and speaking. ¡°It¡¯s simple, we stay put, whatever is out their could be some monster or some dark wizard, staying put here would be safer than risking going out there where we could be seen and indiscriminately attacked.¡± Naulo slammed his hand against the table. ¡°Okay Arth go.¡± She ordered. He cleared his throat looking at the two. ¡°We don¡¯t know what we¡¯ll face out there so first lets look over what we know. One: whatever is out there is dangerous enough the church will be erecting its barriers. Two: We have no knowledge of what is out their, it could be a monster or bandits, we don¡¯t know anything other than we stand no chance of fighting it. Three: If it is a monster or bandits then we¡¯ll have to wait for the kingdom or guild to send aid and the only place we¡¯d be able to hold up that long is the church with its barrier. Taking this one risk is far safer than constantly risking our lives by remaining.¡± ¡°But let¡¯s say whatever it is doesn¡¯t plan on staying.¡± Naulo countered ¡°we haven¡¯t heard a giant monster yet have we, and I can¡¯t see any bandits, whatever it is, is probably smart enough to know not to stay here for too long it¡¯d be better to just wait.¡± Naulo smiled, the smile of a handy victory. Arth glared at him and sat down. ¡°Okay we¡¯ll stay here for now, but if it is a monster or bandits we run to the church.¡± ¡°We have at most ten minutes before the bell stops ringing and the ward is erected.¡± Arth warned shaking his head. That was when the sound drew near. The beating of hooves, and the low bustle of many men and horses. Cillia moved towards the window looking out into the street below. ¡°It¡¯s soldiers.¡± She whispered moving away from the window and urging them to do the same. ¡°Then we run.¡± Arth chucled ¡°Are you kidding, do you think we can fight trained soldiers, or even evade them?¡± Naulo hissed, he seemed frightened and panicked; understandable. Arth glared coldly at the pair of them ¡°We have no choice, if there are soldiers then this is an occupation. The bells only rang a couple of moments ago, this is an advance force, they came from the North east, that means the cultivators found a way through the Andell mountains that protect us. They¡¯ll use this place as a foothold for an invasion. We need to move now!¡± Arth yelled striking his cane against the floor. His eyes bulged in his head, as he was wracked by heavy coughing, falling to his knees. Blood splattered against the floorboards, Cillia stifled a cry and grasped him to her. ¡°Don¡¯t push yourself!¡± She ordered as he continued to cough. Naulo placed a hand on his back. ¡°We need to get you back to your mother, you¡¯ve used up all your energy today haven¡¯t you.¡± Naulo sighed glaring at Arth. Arth nodded pulling out the medical pack he always carried with him. Three health potions lay within. He drank one immediately. ¡°I¡¯ll have roughly half an hour before I collapse.¡± He muttered to the others. His stamina had hit zero and the only way for him to recuperate it would be to take a stamina potion or sleep. Neither was an option. ¡°Cillia you carry Arth, I¡¯ll deal with anyone we meet let¡¯s go.¡± Cillia nodded grabbing Arth supporting his left side. They snuck downstairs; silent barely a creak or a groan from the floorboards below, but what little sound there was from passing footfalls seemed magnified till it droned and boomed in their ears. Naulo stopped at the door easing open the latch. ¡°Get on.¡± Cillia ordered squatting down in front of him ordering him to climb onto her back. He slid his cane into his belt and climbed on. ¡°At least you¡¯re light.¡± She sighed walking towards the door, adjusting and redistributing their combined weight. ¡°I¡¯ll check outside.¡± Naulo ordered. He walked into the street turning left and right. He waved around as if trying to signal anyone there. Nothing happened and he nodded to them They broke from the house in a jog leaping into a side street and slowing down. Arth was still trying to fight his weariness that continual sapped his strength; the exertion was wearing on him, even without any strenuous activity. Soon they had crossed several streets. Naulo stepping out to check if anyone was there. But the stress, the tension the constant fear of death and discovery were fraying the minds of his companions. They stopped in an alleyway, which connected to the main square the church not far away, the bell still tolling. Arth guessed they had less than three minutes to get there before the wards were raised and they were shut out and condemned to death.
Cillia was panting nearly collapsed in the alleyway. Naulo was looking around frantic, enraged his eyes flickering back and forth as if looking for an escape while Arth sat upon a wooden crate watching it all unfold. ¡°We can¡¯t stay here.¡± Arth hissed. ¡°The longer we dawdle here the less chance of making it out alive.¡± He spoke in a low tone serious eyes pleading ¡°I know we¡¯re running a large risk here, just trust me, we need to make our brake now.¡± ¡°No we should wait and recover a little longer.¡± Naulo countered ¡°We need to go.¡± Arth implored. ¡°I said we stay!¡± Naulo yelled. The two stared at each other, they had never fought each other unlike most, how could they in a battle of sinew Naulo was his unmatched superior and in a competition of wits, Arth held similar ground over Naulo. ¡°Guys let¡¯s go we can do this.¡± Cillia mentioned picking Arth up in both arms. If he were honest the entire thing was rather emasculating but he couldn¡¯t complain now, one day he¡¯d become strong and she wouldn¡¯t have to worry about him like this, but for now he had to rely on her. Cillia leapt from the alley before Naulo could stop her and rushed towards the church. But they were immediately halted, a cultivator stood in front of the church carrying a crossbow about to fling the doors open a couple of soldiers stood drinking from canteens each with a spear in hand sharpened steel gleaming in the light. Cillia halted for a second. ¡°The spell!¡± Arth hissed into her ear as the first cultivator spun around levelling his crossbow. Cillia got out the spell first letting Arth¡¯s legs drop and casting the runic inscription into the air. He felt the pulse of her mana but it wasn¡¯t enough. Arth realised it then his blunder. In increasing the complexity of the inscription Arth had increased the mana cost. It had been meant to increase the overall affect and balance it with the original mana cost making it more efficient but he¡¯d inadvertently increased both the affect and the cost. ¡°No.¡± He whispered beneath his breath standing strait. in an attempt to cover her from the blow. Cillia pushed harder forcing mana into the runes it wasn¡¯t working. The cultivator fired the bolt cut through Arth¡¯s shoulder striking the bone shattering it but it was enough to deflect the bolt from Cillia. He panted grasping another health potion and applying it to the wound, for an increased localised affect as the pain flared in his limb drawing him near instantly to his death. he coughed a mass of blood staining his front. The spearmen had lowered there tools and were blocking the gate when Naulo approached raising his arms. The Cultivator had prepared another quarrel and this one was glowing. He¡¯d infused it with his own mana Arth believed they called it qi or something similar in their region. ¡°Stop!¡± Naulo yelled. The guards looked up for a second he took his chance. Maybe if he could just add a little extra power to the rune which was now lying on the floor they¡¯d be safe. Still weary and tired from his injury which had already healed, due to the health potions influence, Arth pushed his will towards the piece of paper, it wasn¡¯t enough barely anything. he was weak as he always had been what use was all his mana if he couldn¡¯t use it. he cursed himself as he tried again.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. For some reason they weren¡¯t dead though the cultivators hadn¡¯t fired at them again. Naulo was walking towards them. Did he intend to fight them? Confusion was ringing through Arth¡¯s mind when suddenly a small mana spark left his fingers. The piece of paper exploded in a pillar of flame. ¡°Now!¡± He yelled grabbing Cillias wrist and pushing past towards the church. The cultivators were entranced, falling back from the pillar of flames. Arth was pushing himself far past his limit; he was going to collapse again. Before he did Naulo cursed barging past the men they all tumbled into the church before many faces looked to greet them, weary down trodden injuries here and there, woe. As above them toll of the bell ended and the ward began to rise from the ground barely visible casting a strange rose hue through the air. It covered the entrance of the church for a brief instant before it passed over like a pulse vanishing and it appeared as if nothing had changed. But the Crossbowman was up on his feet again aiming at the three children. He fired but the quarrel was stopped mid-flight bouncing off the barrier now in place. For now they were safe
Naulo Aubask He sat there looking as everyone huddled together quite alone and afraid. The basement of the church had been reinforced with magic and almost any attack at least once. Though that wasn¡¯t its main specification, The Bunker drew in free energy from the surroundings and allowed for people to stay hidden within for months. Though here that wouldn¡¯t be an option. He cursed his situation looking at those gathered beneath the church sat on small benches or in side rooms. The side rooms were warm comfortable places but the bunker itself felt like a larder, the air was cool and his breath steamed in the air. ¡°No!¡± he heard Arth yell, he knew it was Arth due to the heavy coughing that followed. He walked over; he friend was kneeling next to Mrs Felcite who lay in one of the side-wings meant for patients. Apparently she¡¯d been poisoned in the attack. Naulo grit his teeth, it was all-his fault. Arth¡¯s mother was injured, horrifically so, and Arth himself had a broken arm from the crossbow bolt. ¡°Don¡¯t worry kid, your mothers tough.¡± Macho mentioned. ¡°She¡¯s a healer.¡± What the burly man meant and said were two completely different things. His tough exterior contained a far warmer message ¡®you¡¯re mothers strong and she¡¯s a healer this couldn¡¯t kill someone like her.¡¯ or at least something similar. Naulo saw him kneeling there a large wooden box strapped to his back. He remembered now, His mother demanded they store one of her ¡®first aid¡¯ kits in the churches bunker for him. A fortune of potions held within. Arth¡¯s mother was a skilled healer and knew the basics of alchemy; she had to, to understand the makeup of the human and how to care of it so, of course she knew. She was the towns main supplier of potions its how they lived an easy life: her higher-grade potions could go for roughly twenty-five gold each Arth had enough of those potions on his back to buy him a medium sized house in the city and fund him for a couple years after. She really was a doting mother. He passed by and headed towards the kitchen in the small underground complex. Of course it was nothing fancy just a section of chairs surrounding a stove where a couple of mothers seemed to be cooking though Dojar the owner of the villages little inn The budding flower was overseeing everything, he was in truth a good cook despite the fact he was covered in hair except, strangely enough, for his head which showed a polished sheen. Naulo smiled loosely. He sat down on one of the chairs setting up another two facing him. Cillia quickly took the prompt bringing over two bowls of soup passing one to him before placing a second on the chair beside her before leaving to get another. She eventually returned with a sigh. ¡°You seem tense.¡± she sighed ¡°Can you blame me?¡± Naulo questioned with a grim smile. ¡°Fair enough¡­ You know I heard the Father is attempting to create a teleportation spell.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, isn¡¯t that magic really complicated, they need entire kingdoms to work together to use that kind of magic.¡± Naulo replied, it seemed ridiculous to even consider it. ¡°Yeah but that¡¯s regular teleportation and is meant for hundreds of uses a day between cities, this is just eighty or so people at once, plus he¡¯s using holy magic so it¡¯s a lot easier.¡± she shrugged. ¡°I never really understand you magic types, in my opinion as long as you¡¯ve got a good sword you¡¯ll be fine.¡± he smirked at her ¡°Oh shut it. Arth¡¯s probably going to check over the spell later.¡± ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea, He ruined your spell earlier.¡± She shook her head at his statement. ¡°No, I could never have made anything like that, besides Arth isn¡¯t a mage; he doesn¡¯t have a head for how much mana a person can use. I should have noticed.¡± he sighed leaning backwards ¡°How did it come to this?¡± ¡°Hey remember when we first met Arth, he was a bit of a scatter brain back then as well.¡± She mentioned smiling at me. Naulo nodded ¡°It was five years ago right, we¡¯d just left school.¡± She nodded. Even now, weary and bedraggled, He thought she was beautiful ¡°Yeah just abouts.¡± He remembered it quite vividly actually. They were both young and didn¡¯t really know each other but he¡¯d heard from his father about the entire event that had started this. ¡°Really she¡¯s stopped making potions?¡± his father had exclaimed. ¡°And she¡¯s refusing to heal anyone at all.¡± ¡°A good percent of the towns business is exporting her goods, this won¡¯t do why has this happened.¡± The town¡¯s head merchant Ottar Fardel, was a thin rat-like man, he had a kind enough disposition most of the time but he was always scheming to squeeze every last penny out of a transaction. Naulo had never trusted him. ¡°Do you mean Miss Anna?¡± He¡¯d always called her that; their last name had always been a bit of a tongue twister for him. ¡°Ah indeed.¡± His father replied, ¡°So Fardel what caused this, she must have a reason.¡± ¡°Apparently a neighbour hood kid struck her son unconscious and she flew into a rage, and refused to heal their son of his broken arm. When they tried to pressure her she cut off service for the whole town. It was alright for the first few days but it¡¯s been nearly a weak now and she still doesn¡¯t help anyone.¡± ¡°Ah I nearly forgot she had a son.¡± Mr Aubask (Naulo¡¯s father) had yawned. ¡°How did that little twig of a boy break someone¡¯s arm?¡± ¡°Do you mean the skinny one with really dark hair?¡± Naulo had asked. ¡°He was really weak, Mason didn¡¯t even hit him that hard.¡± ¡°You were there?¡± his father had asked. Naulo nodded. ¡°I broke Mason¡¯s arm, it was an accident, he¡¯d hit the weak boy with the scary eyes so I pushed him down a hill.¡± Mr Aubask had considered this for a while ¡°Maybe if we can¡¯t work through the mother we can work through the children, He¡¯s a close friend with the Hayder sisters right. Why don¡¯t we send the kids around for a meet?¡± ¡°I still can¡¯t believe my father set all that up.¡± Naulo sighed. ¡°Still we gained a friend out of it.¡± Cillia put in with a smile finishing her meal. ¡°Yeah we did.¡± Naulo sighed. It was then that Arth chose the serendipitous moment to appear. He looked pale, He¡¯d always been unhealthy but his days spent lying in the sunshine when he wasn¡¯t studying had combated that to give him a rough tan though now he had turned sallow and sickly. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to go to take a nap the warp should be complete in a couple of hours wake me up when it¡¯s done, I¡¯m really tired.¡± ¡°You need to eat first.¡± Cillia ordered looking up at him. He smiled then turned to go. ¡°Hey!¡± she yelled standing up and grabbing his shoulder, she was shorter than him by nearly a foot but she was still fifteen times stronger than him, (and that was literal) It was an amusing sight ¡°Don¡¯t blow me off, your Mother told me to look after you remember, Now eat before a spoon feed you, ya big baby.¡± She sat back down Arth sighing and giving in. Naulo looked at the two as they began to talk to each other, it was as if he wasn¡¯t there. It was as if she only had eyes for him. It was then He knew what he had to do, do just as his father told him.
Arth Felcite ¡°It¡¯s ready!¡± Father Ottoban yelled. He had created the magic circle in roughly five hours, but that still wasn¡¯t enough time, Arth could already here the thunder of men above beating against the wards. The Father was the first to attempt to use the portal in case there was any danger in or beyond it. He stepped into the ring his body softly glowing before he seemed to vanish after turning into light. less than ten seconds later he returned to gesture the others to follow. They did in perfect silence eyes cast down. Arth remained watching as everyone left, he wanted to make sure his mother got through safely before he followed and she was at the back of the line held by a group of men atop a litter. ¡°Tallia?¡± Mrs Hayder called looking around frantic. ¡°Tallia!¡± She called. ¡°Has anyone seen Tallia?¡± She looked at everyone crowded around, none replied. Arth tried to recollect if he¡¯d seen her. He came up blank. ¡°I¡¯ll go look for her.¡± He proclaimed before hobbling away his cane clattering against the hard stone floor. No one moved to stop him so he just left. One would have thought that the immense box on his back would have weighed him down but in truth it was weightless enchanted to be incredibly light. Arth had never had a real need to use it, so he¡¯d never seen what his mother had put inside he only knew it took her roughly a week to restock the whole thing every year, not including the time it took to gather the rare ingredients. His mother was a former adventurer and probably the wealthiest person in the little village, which was why she¡¯d never actually gone to work and was able to home school Arth not that he needed it. He clambered up the stairs short of breath and began to look around. He saw Tallia sitting behind the barricade of pews at the far end of the hall just before the doors. She looked out curious but frightened. ¡°Tallia we have to go.¡± He said rapping his cane on the ground. ¡°Old man Arth.¡± She said turning around. Arth cringed at the nickname Nimmia had given him due to the fact he needed a cane to walk. She¡¯d later tried to change it to ¡®Brother Arth¡¯ but now it just came out as ¡®Brother; Old Man Arth¡¯ or some random variation made by rearranging the words. When she said it, it was innocent; when her sister said it she¡¯d have receive what she disserved. ¡°What¡¯s out there?¡± She questioned. ¡°Scary men.¡± He replied moving forwards ¡°Come on your Mother and big sister are waiting on us you know we have to leave.¡± ¡°Oh ok.¡± She said happily. She walked up to him before taking his left hand I moved towards the stairs. He winced slightly. He¡¯d bandaged the arm but using one of the potions specialised to re-grow bones would have caused the bones to fuse back together, but without them being properly set he¡¯d have ended up with a useless arm that would need re-breaking Then everything behind them exploded, sound and light, crimson flames dancing through the air likes flower petals on the breeze. In that instant Arth reacted his body moved as if under its own volition once again, he moved without thought of the consequences to him taking up the girl in both arms. As he ran he saw the glimpse of a figure passing through the flames hands plunged into its pockets treating the wholesale destruction like some minor triviality. Arth was afraid, he was frightened as he rushed down the stairs; that man was powerful and he was dangerous. Maybe he could escape if he let go Tallia¡­ He held her tighter. If he let her go now, he¡¯d no longer be Arth Felcite, just a monster who didn¡¯t know right from wrong, who killed only for their own benefit. ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be okay.¡± Arth promised blood leaking from the corner of his lips. He felt like his body was being plunged through the flames of prugatory as he descended the steps. On reaching the basement floor he heard a crack. His ankle snapped. He couldn¡¯t stop though he could hear the heavy footsteps of the man behind him. He pushed on. Rising he slunk towards the room containing the teleportation sigil. He didn¡¯t have much time left. Fire bloomed in the corridor behind him bursting into the room and turning it into a sauna scorching his back raw. He pushed on towards the sigil room, screaming as he went. ¡°What¡¯s going on damn it!¡± Naulo yelled taking Tallia from Him and placing her in the sigil. Arth fell to his knees watching as the little girl was placed in the pale blue ring of magic. She vanished turning into light and reappearing somewhere else. ¡°Bastards!¡± Naulo yelled before mumbling something under his breath. He looked down pulling a sword from the ground. Arth looked at him in hope as he laid his hand upon his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± he whispered. He wouldn¡¯t look Arth in the eye, staring over him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but this is for my family¡­ and for Cillia.¡± He stood his sword raised. Arth looked up in shock. It was impossible, they¡¯d known each other for years, they were friends, no they were more than that; they were brothers¡­ And he was going to kill him, fear clutched at his heart. Arth felt the light breeze of the blade against his neck, Naulo had stopping short of the fatal blow. ¡°Sorry.¡± He jammed the sword into Arth¡¯s shoulder, his scream pierced the stones themselves, before pulling it loose the blood staining the walls. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t stay, to see you off.¡± his voice was cold nearly mocking, but strained. He walked into the circle refusing to look Arth in the eyes. Naulo stood there for roughly three seconds before tossing his sword into the air. The weapon seemed to be made from mist as it flew already half converted into light before it reached its zenith and fell striking the earth slicing through the sigil. The magical light spluttered out only half of the sword remaining. Arth was alone. Arth was afraid. Arth was doomed. Chapter Three - Fall From Grace Chapter Three: Fall from grace Cillia looked at the scenery, hills valleys, forests a town in the distance, the sky above a brilliant blue, that seemed to mock them from above. They were roughly eighty miles from their former village and near another where they would spread the word of Xinder¡¯s invasion, if fortune were kind enough to cut them some slack. But at least they were safe they were all safe. She looked for Arth in the crowd. He wasn¡¯t there¡­ She began to ask around but no one had seen him. There was a burst of sound and crack of light as Tallia appeared from thin air, she was crying. Cilia went to comfort her, it was heard to tell what she was saying something about Arth saving her. He hadn¡¯t come through yet. She just needed to wait. Everything would be okay. Then another flash of light as Naulo appeared on his knees weeping, fragments of a sword appearing about him. He bowed his head to the ground his fingers digging into the earth. Her stomach sank. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± he screamed striking his fists against the dirt. ¡°Naulo where¡¯s Arth?¡± Cillia questioned kneeling down. Naulo looked up eyes red, panicked. ¡°He¡­ He gave him self up. A cultivator attacked, he burnt down the church we tried to escape but the portal¡­ we wouldn¡¯t have been able to get away from here fast enough, he would have come through and killed us all. Arth. Arth stayed behind, he pushed me into the sigil and used my sword to break it. Arth gave himself up, He was burnt alive!¡± Cillia fell to her knees as it felt like some dark hand of shadows had pulled her heart out of her chest, looking up to the sky. Arth was gone; that fragile little boy she always thought of as a brother, wise as he was annoying, constantly blithering on, so fragile and frail yet full of life¡­ He was gone
General Lufe Alv Xader The little town of Gunmar was small; it would be insignificant if not for its strategic positioning. It stood right outside of the small pathway leading through the Andell mountains separating the empire and Yagore. General Lufe was a veteran of the minor war eighteen years ago, fought on the southern front, when he was still young, the small country of Yagore did not stand a chance against the empire or Jundore at least militaristically, but it was neutral grounds for both if one power attempted to take it the other power would aid in the suppression of foreign forces. Xinder had been pushed back many times, especially by the countries elite soldiers made the mix of cultivators and adventurers making them a deadly and versatile force. Most of the General¡¯s own forces had a strong, racial, hatred for adventurers. They were considered weak and foolish, they were short lived and existed only on there own whims. Lufe knew this to be true but he was also well aware of how frightening they could be and respected them for it. Cultivators at the lower levels were stronger than adventurers of the same level. But it was harder to tell at higher levels who were stronger. Still it was not their strength that the General admired it was their adaptability. An adventurer¡¯s strength is based entirely on their surroundings and more particularly the monsters around them. They would go and hunt monsters many times there level to train. Most Cultivators considered their training rigorous, and in terms of discipline the adventurers could not compare, but considering the pure terror of facing down opponents many times your skill and level having your comrades die besides you, delving into dungeons at the risk of ones own life; they were a mad bunch of bastards, they lived in fear and terror and they overcame it with ease, they did not fear death and so had no need to extend their lives like cultivators taking the safer path. Not that it mattered now, this village was destined to fall. ¡°What is the hold up?¡± He questioned dismounting his horse and approaching the soldier facing the church. ¡°They¡¯ve erected a ward sir.¡± one of them replied saluting, placing a fist over his chest and a palm over the fist. He bowed slightly in apology. ¡°No matter.¡± Lufe sighed walking towards the barrier, the men bombarding it with attacks stopped to let him through. He placed a hand against the wall touching a thin invisible barrier. ¡°Holy barrier, one would need a demonic or divine attack to brake it. However it does not reach into the ground by destroying the earth beneath you can shatter it with ease.¡± He declared raising a foot. He brought it down upon the ground a wave of flames bursting out destroying not just the barrier but the door as well. Amid the smoke and the cardinal flames fluttering through the air. Lufe could see the figure of an old man with a cane carrying a child descending down the stairs. He followed never rushing, a constant pace his feet droning as he moved. His men did not follow, they knew not to interfere with the man who led Xinder¡¯s front line forces: General Xader The flame. Lufe paused looking down a corridor the old figure disappearing. He pointed a finger down the stairwell a sea of flames blooming from his fingertips. They roared and burnt their path down engulfing everything. The General clucked, he¡¯d been too impatient he¡¯d burnt up all the oxygen and now would need wait for the air to stabilise. After just under five minutes he continued down into the basement of sorts, probably some kind of bunker going by the layout. Adventurers always seemed to prepare for everything. But it was to quite¡­ Crap His mission had been to capture the town and not let anyone escape, simple really. But unless they¡¯d all been vaporised by his flames he didn¡¯t think that was likely. He sighed marching through the room. He could hear scrambling at the far end like a mad dog trying to let itself in the house. He approached. He was intrigued by what he saw: a young man clawing for life. He whistled looking at the sigil drawn on the floor. Xinder never bothered using sigils it was considered insulting to forsake their own language for that of these adventurers. Xader had always thought that amusing. He watched as the young man, weak and frail bleeding from many wounds crawled forward. He was on the edge of death, stabbed through the shoulder, already sickly and sallow a desperate light in his eyes. Xader squatted between him and the portal, which had been shattered by a sword, which now lay in pieces. Though it appeared a fair portion had simply vanished. ¡°Teleportation¡­ crafty¡± He smirked. He knew little of sigils but this one was certainly complicated, far to complex for war or a battle mage to have drawn, probably an enchanter or someone similar. The boy continued forward, in vain exertion. They boy was too frail. ¡°Boy I¡¯ll heal you, if you give up.¡± Xader said. The boy looked at him with strange eyes. They looked through him like he wasn¡¯t there like they saw his soul and judged him. He clucked his tongue, a clear no. He watched, as the boy grew closer to the circle. Now within inches he slammed his hand down his fingers reconnecting with the main portion of the circle. The sigil spluttered light and colour magical energy bursting forth. Not much, a low level, but enough to activate the circle if not control it. The boy was gone in a heartbeat.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Xader laughed standing. The boy may not have been powerful, but just looking in his eyes Xader could tell¡­ The boy was strong.
Arth Felcite On reaching the sigil Arth had infused all the mana he could into the circle pushing far past him limits until he broke down, but it was enough to reconnect the circle. He remembered falling vaguely he appeared high in the air near a pounding waterfall and quickly fall into the lake below. His consciousness spluttering out like a candle caught amid the storm. He awoke his head burning, his body aching, it felt like he was underwater. He assumed he had a concussion, he knew his body was broken; he didn¡¯t even need to move to know the pain he would endure. I opened his eyes and looked up. Something was waiting for him. Looking up he saw a monster. Not much of a monster but still a monster. He saw a slime. ¡°Why hello.¡± he muttered wandering if the creature would deign to finish him off, put him out of his misery, not that such a creature had the necessary compassion for mercy. The Slime tilted its body as if questioning him, curious. Ignoring the pale red creature for the moment he began to wonder what it was he needed to do. He was currently alive, and that meant he hadn¡¯t lost just yet. That was when the memory of the betrayal hit him. It had been like a dream watching someone he considered a brother try to kill him¡­ it was unthinkable. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to understand what had happened. In the end it didn¡¯t matter though, what could he do? Take revenge? He was far too weak for that. So that was it huh, he¡¯d get strong, and then he¡¯d find out why Naulo had done it, why he¡¯d been betrayed. Answers came second now though, he needed to survive. Moving his chest slightly to find his ribs broken from the fall he knew that his medicine box had vanished. Looking around him he saw the very same box lying in the sand a couple of metres away. He tried to move forwards to reach it. Pain exploded through his body. He would have screamed if he didn¡¯t know how painful it would be to do so. He settled for a pained whimper. The Slime regarded him rolling along, a living ball of goo held together by a mana core. Taking a deep breath Arth swung out his arm. It dug into the sand and he used it to drag himself forward. Once, twice, so on. The pain went beyond words, until he was numb to it, his mind reaching a saturation point where it could no longer feel in an attempt to save his sanity. It took nearly ten minutes for him to reach the box, dragging his body leaving a bloody wake in his path, quite literally. He pushed aside the latch with bent and broken fingers before reaching inside, his hands felt a gooey liquid. The potions were broken. It was hopeless; as soon as hope lit a torch before him it grabbed it and shoved it right into his face. Fate was cruel; the God of chaos was cruel for bringing him into a world where this could happen. No that wasn¡¯t true, his old life was a testament to that, the world had always been cruel, it didn¡¯t really matter which one did it. Still this world had so many things his old one did not, magic, mystery wonders. Sure there were evil wizards and monsters lurking around every corner, but that wonder was worth it. He wanted to live, to see the world, become an adventurer and show that jackass god what he was made off. ¡°I¡¯m going to live.¡± He croaked. The slime jiggled as if applauding him for his resolve, he shot it a glare, and the stupid creature began to role around in a circle. Now he had a choice to make: one: enter the forest and crawl about hoping either the monsters their ignored him thinking he was a diseased corpse. Or two: drink the mixture, which could heal him, although even if he were healed he wouldn¡¯t have healed correctly. It be deformed and would need to purposely brake and attempt to set his bones before drinking more again. One led to near certain death, the other to certain agonising torment. He chose the latter option, at the expense of his sanity; he¡¯d receive his life. Bringing his lips to the mixture of many shades and colours that ended up predominantly yellow he drank from the box attempt to keep from cutting his lips. Pain lanced up his body. He¡¯d ingested an unknown amalgamation of potions; he had no idea what the end result would be. Although it was quite simple. His stamina mana and health were recovered, but while health potions mended only flesh there appeared to have been potions for mending bones mixed in as well. The pain was agonising as he fell onto his back spasms rushing up and down his body, his mind felt like it was being ripped apart by unseen hands. He screamed thrashing in the sand. His health was dropping lower and lower from his original ten points to a measly three. The red slime was rolling about like a mix between a rubber ball and a snail. Within two minutes he lost consciousness. When he awoke it was night; the stars above shone brightly, they were truly wonderful even lying there infirm his body aching with pain. He crawled into an upright position looking at his body. His ankle and arm had set but the joints hadn¡¯t reset properly and had become somewhat like a mass of bone, He¡¯d need to brake and reset them now. But first he¡¯d have to take another sip of that mixture and hope this time he¡¯d survive. Of course while all this was happening the slime just sat there watching him in wonder? Humans were tough. Slimes were almost indestructible (apart from their core) and just by watching this human a creature without a sense of pain could sympathise. Of course the slime was constantly being distracted by birds and flowers and other things like worms and grubs; still it was drawn to this human who wasn¡¯t quite a human. Morning came and went with Arth just lying there staring up at the sun hoping death would be swift when it came. He recounted everything he had once again; one box full of murder medicine, one set of ruined bloody clothes (partially burnt), one scalpel, two halves of a belt that had broken during his fall, three healing potions (that he definitely should have remembered and used earlier) and last but not least a rapidly failing hope for the future. He reset his bones a couple of times with better results each attempt: still he was deformed. His shoulder was raised too high making him lop shouldered. His ankle twisted his broken ribs jutting slightly outwards giving him a skeletal appearance, while his front was drenched in blood and back covered in burns, his complexion sallow and his hair matted. He wouldn¡¯t blame someone for mistaking as some kind of undead. He looked up at the early sky, clouds of a feeble white trailing along in the otherwise empty sky. The forest seemed quite except for the drone of the bugs and the rustling of the leaves, it felt lonely. Arth knew he had to move, his body ached with an ungodly pain but that wouldn¡¯t stop him. Then he noticed it, in the corner of his vision a small icon similar flaring, a picture of two hands clasped together. Confused he reached upwards his limbs shaking as he did, he probably had nerve damage either from the fall or the potion. He clasped them together unsure of what to expect. A display appeared in front of him.
Congratulations!
You Have received the title Deifier of death This title signifies a person who is able to survive what should have killed them. To overturn fate and influence the future. Vitality +5 Endurance +3 Value of all vitality points +10%
Warning!
You have ingested an unknown potion. The affects are as follows: Improper healing Vitality ¨C 1 Endurance - 1 Sickness prone Vitality ¨C 1 Organ damage Vitality ¨C 1 Endurance -1 Speed ¨C 1 Nerve damage Dexterity - 1
Warning!
Due to one of your stats reaching 0 you suffer the penalty (Null) Any actions requiring this stat are guaranteed to fail.
Arth chuckled to himself looking at the multitude of windows. He laughed, his chest racking blood staining his mouth. Two steps forward and one step back. Still his vitality was higher, enough that he could survive, his speed had literally fallen to zero. He looked towards the woods and wondered, How and if he would survive and where that would lead him. He wanted answers, not just from the god who had brought him here but also from the brother who had betrayed him. He wanted to know. And to know first he would have to make it through those woods. He chuckled looking down at the lake, his weary body finding his cane waiting for him on the sure. A trusty friend. He smiled taking it up and standing. He began to move forwards his body aching as he moved a small smile on his lips. There was a strange sound below him the slime waving and shaking towards him. He smirked down at the little creature ¡°You coming to?¡± He questioned. The slime made no response just looked up at him. In the end he decided to move on the creature following behind. Eh he could just use it as a waste disposal or a distraction if worst came to worst. He smiled as he moved into the woods a new goal set in mind. He find his brother and he¡¯d get the answers he needed through any means necessary.