《Renewal Eternal》 1.0.0: 25 Years Ago Volume 1: Prologue August 18, 2042 Dr. Foli Hamstead stood, back slightly stooped, in a cylindrical room. In his opinion, it was too clean; however, the six people chatting amiably at the conference table did not seem to mind. Sweat trickled down his brow as his nervousness began to show obvious systems. Straightening his tie, he put on a smile he had perfected in the years since he began this arduous endeavor. Perhaps, it will finally be over, he thought. Frankly, he would be surprised if the men and women in this room took him seriously. None of the other had. ¡°Ladies and gentleman,¡± Dr. Hamstead said smoothly, his nervousness falling by the wayside as he began to perform his act, ¡°Thank you for meeting with me today.¡± The six men and women slowly began to finish their conversations. The doctor sighed inwardly. It was always this way. No matter the company or government, few took his work seriously. He had long ago come to the conclusion that he was only given the courtesy of these meetings due to his long-standing work in robotics while at AMR. During his tenure, he had helped to revolutionize it¡¯s use in every-day life and thus, the company decided he would help market the product to the business world. Although he found the work degrading and later quit due to it, the contacts he made during that time benefited him greatly now. Unfurling a folder he had trapped under his arm, the doctor walked up to the table and began to hand out packets to each of the seated individuals. ¡°Now,¡± Dr. Hamstead said clearing his throat, ¡°In your hands, are my long term plans for the project. The technology that I wish to use in the product has not been invented yet but in twenty years, it will be feasible to build the product.¡± One of the women sitting at the table held up a hand, silencing him. ¡°Twenty years is quite an investment. Our usual R&D projects consist of a ten year period. No more than that.¡± ¡°Yes, well, this is quite a unique project.¡± Dr. Hamstead said uncomfortably. Investments in projects like the doctor¡¯s were always risky investments for a company. ¡°How so?¡± The woman said curiously. ¡°As you can see,¡± he said emphasizing the packets most were leafing through with looks ranging from incredulity to mirth, ¡°the project involves elements that delve into a realm wholly untapped by scientific endeavors.¡± The woman looked down, her blond curls, held high on her head, shifted slightly and the doctor caught a glimpse of a thin, but apparent scar trailing down the side of her face. ¡°Well, this is a surprise doctor.¡± The women said, raising her head, a look of amusement on her lips. ¡°We thought you were coming here with the intention of selling a new chip or design but this? Tel-North is not even in the business of¡­¡± She snorted derisively, ¡°Immortality.¡± The doctor breathed out slowly, clenching his fist as twinges of dread entered his system. This is where it always fell to pieces. ¡°It¡¯s not immortality. Not exactly.¡± ¡°Then what would you call it?¡± One of the men said. He had short-cropped, receding dusky-silver hair while his square-jawed face sagged slightly with age. ¡°It¡¯s a form of data transmission.¡± Dr. Hamstead sighed slightly exasperated with the situation. These board members always chose to interrogate him on the perceived immortality redox of his project rather than ascertaining it¡¯s true purpose. ¡°A study, not too long ago, showed that it is possible to store an infinite amount of data in DNA strands. Only thirty years ago, no one thought this was possible. My colleagues and I wish to do something along the same lines.¡± ¡°You¡¯re talking about copying a brain. An impossible feat. We can¡¯t even understand everything that happens inside the brain and you want to copy it?¡± The women with the blond curls said incredulously as she rifled furiously through the papers in front of her. ¡°Yes.¡± The doctor said succinctly bowing his head slightly. It was better to ignore their incredulity as he doubted it would go away anytime soon. Raising his head, he noticed the looks of abject shock on all of their faces as he uttered that single word. Smirking slightly, the doctor continued. ¡°I know what you are all thinking by this point. Why would we invest in a project that is not even feasible?¡± He raised his hands as if questioning the heavens themselves. ¡°Why on earth would we invest in a project where the technology is not readably available?¡± ¡°I take it you¡¯re going to tell us.¡± The man with the short-cropped hair said dryly. Dr. Hamstead laughed gently. This was going far different than his past meetings. By this point, the meeting would have already ended, the company having decided that the project, no matter, how sound, was too infeasible to invest in. But Tel-North, they still listened and he would give them a grand speech. ¡°To start, it is actually easier to copy the brain than understand it.¡± As he held up a finger, the doctor said, confidence emanating from him in waves, ¡°It will be decades, maybe even centuries before we have the ability to understand the brain. But, copying the brain. It¡¯s a fairly simple task when we have the technology to accomplish it.¡± ¡°And what about the second stage?¡± Asked a man whom Dr. Hamstead knew rather well. Jeff Holmes, COO of Tel-North, was a genial man whom Dr. Hamstead had been friendly with since his AMR days. ¡°That¡¯s overdoing it, don¡¯t you think Foli?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll admit,¡± Dr. Hamstead said sighing as his grin slipped from his face. ¡°This is the least feasible part of the project; however, my team and I believe we can make it work.¡± ¡°Who does your team consist of? It¡¯s not in the report.¡± The woman with the blonde curls said. Incredulity still remained upon her face but there was a curiosity there as well. ¡°Hmm.¡± The doctor said thinking. ¡°We have Dr. Makinaf and Dr. Theas who are Computer Scientists, Dr. Adams and Dr. Brenn who are Neurologists, Dr. Panos whom is an Astrophysicist, Mr. Tekriv, Hazar, and Knight who are Computer Scientists specializing in game programming, and myself in Robotics.¡± If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Surprise lit many of the faces at the conference table. It was a remarkable team of people who were willing to work upon this project giving up a large portion of their professional careers and the more likely lucrative contracts they could receive. ¡°Jesus. Just Jesus.¡± Jeff said somewhat flabbergasted as a grin began to spread across his face unimpeded. ¡°How did you get this team together Foli? I know Dr. Theas. He was my counterpart at Halwork International until about two years ago. Were you the one who took him? Jesus, Foli.¡± Jeff said shaking his head disbelievingly. Dr. Hamstead shrugged as if it was not that big of a deal. ¡°I just told him he could work on a project that would change the world. Something that I seem to be asking all of you right now.¡± The man with the short-cropped hair asked, ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered us on how you will achieve the second step.¡± ¡°Makinaf and Theas are working on that right now.¡± Dr. Hamstead said as hope began to blossom inside of him for the first time in a long time. Was this it? Would this be the company that made his dreams come true? ¡°It¡¯s a long a convoluted process.¡± The doctor continued. ¡°As Makinaf specializes in Artificial Intelligence he has taken the lead in this process. When the technology is available, in around two decades, we will map a brain and then attempt to transfer it into data streams. This is not the difficult part. As a few of you have already gathered, we need to reconstruct the brain inside of the computer system. To do this, it will require great precision and care.¡± One of the men who had not spoken at all cleared his throat. He was younger than the other by almost three decades. While the others were already well into their middle-ages, he looked as if he just left college. ¡°Mark Gainer, Chairman of the board.¡± He said in greeting. Surprised, Dr. Hamstead nodded his head in acquiescence. He must be the son of the primary stockholder if he holds this position as his age. ¡°Dr. Hamstead, you said earlier that this project did not involve immortality in any way; however, what you have described is what many consider immortality.¡± Dr. Hamstead was surprised once again. Mark Gainer was much more mature and well-spoken than his appearance made him out to be. ¡°Mr. Gainer,¡± the doctor said after recovering from his surprise, ¡°My team and I had this very discussion when we first began; however, we came to the conclusion that our project could not be relegated to that of one that sought eternal life. If you flip to the last section of the report,¡± the sound of rustling paper met the doctor¡¯s ears as he continued, ¡°you¡¯ll see that while immortality is possible with the research we are conducting, it is not the direction we decided to go. Instead, our programmers, have begun to develop a program with consultation from Dr. Makinaf, Dr. Panos, and Dr. Theas that will constitute a resurrection cycle within the program. Effectively the people who decide to participate will, in truth, live on after their death on this world; however, they will not be immortal. We will make our program as real and natural as possible. In effect, every time a person dies they will be reborn in the program, have new experiences, and technically, be an entirely different person. The only remaining part of a person will be their memories as we believe it will be inherently too dangerous to corrupt the data streams by erasing portions of data without understanding the ramifications to the person.¡± ¡°Thank you, doctor.¡± Mr. Gainer said smiling pleasantly as he leaned back in his chair. ¡°Do you have anything else to add before we make a decision?¡± ¡°No.¡± The doctor said shaking his head. He told the board everything involving his project except the few things his team agreed they needed to keep to themselves for now. Everything else though, the board now knew and would use decide the project¡¯s fate with. ¡°Very well.¡± Mr. Gainer said softly. ¡°All in favor of funding this project¡­¡± Mr. Gainer flipped to the front page of the report, ¡°Renewal Eternal?¡± Jeff raised his hand immediately. When Dr. Hamstead caught his eye he waved his hand flippantly laughing at the glee on the doctor¡¯s face. Next, it was the woman with blonde curls. Although hesitant, her hand touched the sky as she frowned down at the report. Silence dawned upon the room stifling it with it¡¯s inherent awkwardness. The hope in Dr. Hamstead¡¯s heart began to dwindle and sweat, one again, began to percolate the small of his back. Suddenly, Mr. Gainer let out a sharp laugh and raised his hand succinctly into the air. ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s up to me now.¡± Mr. Gainer said, a light behind his eyes. ¡°Three against three. Although,¡± Mr. Gainer said hesitantly, ¡°My vote, according to the by-laws, counts as two in case of a tie. Therefore, Tel-North has accepted the project.¡± A grin, unbidden, spread across Dr. Hamstead¡¯s face. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± The doctor said more respectful than he had been previously. After all, the man was technically his new boss. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. You¡¯re project was well-founded and the ROI will be staggering if all works out.¡± ¡°You should talk to Jeff as soon as you leave here today to get the contract worked out.¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± Dr. Hamstead said as he walked over to the table and gripped Mr. Gainer¡¯s hand in a firm hand. ¡°Welcome to Tel-North, Dr. Hamstead. I hope you do us proud.¡±
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1.1.1: New Beginnings Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 1 February 13, 2067 A low thrum rent the air, abbreviating the high-pitched hiccups coming from the corner of the room. David Peterson took a shallow breath and the thrum reached a fever pitch. Clean and clear plastic covered his mouth as air began to be forced into his mouth in a rush. He tried to raise a hand to his face, yet, it would not rise. There was not enough air. Not enough. He tried to turn his head, yet, he was not able. Something was impeding him. Every attempt met a solid object and as he thumped against it the hiccuping from the corner of the room abruptly ceased. Footsteps quickly followed along with a rush of warm air as his daughter, Carolyne, leaned down over him. ¡°Daddy! Daddy! Can you hear me?¡± She half-wept. Tears stained her plain, but pleasantly ovular face. He straightened his neck, attempting to give her any indication he could still understand. His neck did not move. It was too weak from laying in this damnable bed. All he could do was thump the side with his shoulder. Thump! Thump! It was infuriating. A man, once so strong, was reduced to this. But he knew age was the great equalizer in the end. Depression overwhelmed him and tears came to his eyes, watering them. ¡°You can hear me, can¡¯t you?¡± Carolyne murmured as she saw his eyes begin to water. Mistakenly, she thought his tears were for her and not his weakened position. He attempted to smile. It was typical of her to think the best of him. He had not always been the best father. While he was in the army, he had neglected all but his post at the time. His wife left him long ago and he heard, from Carolyne, she had passed away years previously. He never knew. They had grown apart in the early years after their marriage and only stayed together for Carolyne¡¯s sake; however, after Carolyne became an adult and moved out of the house, they separated amicably as neither saw the need to remain together any longer. A soft knock on the door interrupted their small moment. ¡°Yes?¡± Carolyne said, somewhat flustered as she rose from the bed. ¡°Excuse me miss, but I¡¯m with Renewal Eternal?¡± The man, David could only see the tips of his brown loafers, said almost as if it were a question. David attempted to snort. This was the man who would give him his immortality? Pathetic. ¡°Come in. Come in.¡± Carolyne said walking over to the corner of the room and grabbing her purse protectively. ¡°I¡¯ll be just outside daddy. Call me when he¡¯s done.¡± She said to the man as she left taking a single look back before shutting the door with a snap. The man stood in the same place for a long moment before he dropped his thick woolen jacket onto the chair Carolyne had previously vacated. Walking over to the bed, he thumbed the chart that had been tacked over the bed with a nail. ¡°Pulmonary Edema.¡± The man tisked. ¡°Such a shame.¡± Turning to David, he said, a soft smile touching his lips, ¡°You know, I was once in the army. National Guard, in fact.¡± David only blinked at him. He had an inability to do anything else. Although, he did think rather atomically, Softies. ¡°It was years ago though.¡± The man continued, not sensing David¡¯s annoyance. ¡°During the Detroit Riots, in fact. Nasty business that.¡± The man chuckled and looked down at David, a bemused expression on his face. He had a thin goatee covering a weak chin and thin face; however, David had a hard time paying attention to his face when his eyes¡­.his eyes were like that. They were wide and narrow at the same time, contracting and expanding like they were, themselves, alive. A thick azure color gleamed out from the whites, penetrating David with their cold bite. If he could, he would have shivered; however, even that, was forbidden him by his body riddled with age. Instead, he thumped against the side of the bed, once again. ¡°Oh! Excuse me.¡± The man said surprised. His eyes expanded significantly creating a rather bizarre look. ¡°I¡¯m Ryan Knight, one of the chief programmers of Renewal Eternal.¡± David just blinked at him. Coughing once into his hand as he attempted to cover the silence that greeted him, Ryan said, ¡°We have already scanned your brain and digitized it. Payment has been made in full as well. Over the last year,¡± he took out a folded sheet of paper, ¡°Mind you, this is just for contractual reasons we are going over this.¡± Ryan said, attempting to diffuse the patronizing tone of his voice. ¡°A man, such as you, would not like it, I think, to have that last year of our painful poking and prodding retold to him.¡± Ryan chuckled weakly. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll make this short. And when it¡¯s over, we can begin the transition process.¡± The transition process. David grew cold inside. It meant death. Actual, physical death. When Renewal Eternal began to be marketed, a little over two years ago, David had signed up almost immediately. It was just after his second heart attack and the beginning of his time on a respirator. He knew his time was almost up and he felt rather aggrieved that his time on this world, only sixty-seven years, was so short. While he knew many of the reasons for his short life were due to many of the deplorable habits he had picked up over the years, he could not help but think fate rolled him a bad toss of the dice. Renewal Enteral gave him the chance to have another chance at life. While Carolyne would not be there, he felt he could live with that. When he died in this world, he would not see Carolyne again in any case. David never really believed in the afterlife. While he had grown up a Christian, he felt, as most did these days, religion had too many contradictions to hold true. There still was a possibility for a God but he had never given a hand to David; therefore, David would not give a hand to him. He would admit it was selfish; however, his pride vied for absolute truth before he submitted to any such God and Christianity never provided that for him. David had tuned Ryan out as he delved into his thoughts. Perhaps, it was best as what Ryan was saying would have made him even more depressed. ¡°¡­And last month we tested your blood type, type AB, had your psychological test, you did rather well, although you have a tendency towards violence when your patience wanes.¡± Ryan smirked, the whites of his teeth, gleaming in the radiant light shining down from the light overhead. ¡°Right.¡± Ryan said, clearing his throat. ¡°Let me tell you a few of the rules of the program before we begin. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard some of them before. Whether it was in discussions with our staff or through advertisements, we still have to list the rules and protections before a client enters the program. Contract law requires it, you see.¡± Ryan said as he attempted to look apologetic, yet came off looking disdainful. ¡°First and foremost. This will not make you immortal. We have to make this clear to all of our clients beforehand. As you¡¯ve already signed the contract, you understand the implications well. Therefore, I will go to the second point. There is no end to the program. Over the last two decades, we have developed multiple AI systems to run the program for a very long time. While it is still harbored within Cloud servers, they are in an undisclosed location and secured tightly. As there are no foreign entities allowed into the program, we have established an Intranet to secure our control more tightly. As of now, only six people have the key to log in and out of the intranet, so your data will be perfectly safe.¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. David relaxed slightly at that. He had harbored some doubts that he would be safe from hackers in the program but it seems Renewal Eternal had thought of all of the possibilities. ¡°Inside of the program, you will be transported to a world we have programmed called Thantos. During your first rebirth, you will be allowed to choose your role, place, and parents within the world; however, you are precluded from royalty or other leadership roles. This limits the misuse of power by our clients within the world. NPC¡¯s populate the world at a population of one-billion; however, they each have their own individualized AI programs based upon discarded data streams. Due to this and other programming tools, they can technically be considered people. While in the world, you can decide to follow the rules of the country you have established yourself in or you can refuse. It matters little as each country has forces to control their citizens.¡± David blinked in surprise, they had added so much detail to the world since the last time he had researched it. Frankly, it was astonishing how much they had improved the technology of the world in the last two years. ¡°Further,¡± Ryan continued crisply, ¡°You will age in this world. We have programmed the world so you feel as if everything is real. While it is technically virtual reality, death is a very real possibility. This has not stopped many of our clients to decide to become adventurers; therefore, due to this notion of our program as a game¡± Ryan said, sarcasm oozing from him, ¡°we have systematically allowed for a leveling, skills, and quest system to be included within the program; however, it is quite different from other games.¡± Ryan coughed as he tried to get the word out. David thought he found it rather distasteful this was even in his beloved program. ¡°Instead of the typical system overlay one would find in an online game, we have established a system of NPC¡¯s and clients who are employed by each country as Identity Merchants. They are located in most of the larger cities and can be found rather easily within them. They will allow you to view your skills, stats, and primary quest objectives for an exchange of a small sum of gold. Finally, the technology in this world is currently at the middle-age stage but is subject to change at a later date. There are also a variety of races within this world not found in our own. You have the ability to choose your starting race and will always be born into that race henceforce. This is due to corruption of data streams if a client continually changes race. ¡± Ryan said, his face turning grim, "If your race somehow becomes extinct, there are a few endangered ones out there mind you, we do have the ability to copy your data stream into a new race; however, as mentioned, it is an ill-advised decision." Ryan looked down at his small sheet of paper frowning slightly. ¡°Right. I think that covers it.¡± Turning away from David¡¯s bed, he opened the door to the room succinctly and called into the hall, ¡°Hal, get his daughter and bring a doc with you!¡± There was a slight pause where David could hear a murmured response. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s time.¡± Another murmur. ¡°Alright. Set it up.¡± A few moments later, Ryan walked into the room followed by Carolyne and Dr. Nimitz, a short, fat, greasy man but David thought he was the most tolerable of the doctors in this god-forsaken hospice. ¡°Daddy?¡± Carolyne said hesitantly. David tried to respond but he couldn¡¯t. Every time. Every damn time. He was pathetic. But, he did not have to. She walked slowly up to him and gripped his hand gently. Her smooth warm hand squeezed his rough and calloused hand that over the last two years had grown cold as life swiftly began to leave it. ¡°Ah, Mr. Peterson, are you ready?¡± Dr. Nimitz said. He was chipper, the damnable bastard. There was a smug grin on his pudgy face; yet, David could not blame him. After all, he watched his patients die every day. It was rare he was able to help someone go out on his own terms. Ryan walked up to his bedside. ¡°Mr. Peterson, please say your last goodbyes.¡± He held a business-like tone as he aided Dr. Nimitiz in administering the cocktail of drugs that would end his life. ¡°Daddy, I¡¯ll pray for you.¡± Carolyne was crying again. Tears flowed down her face and cupped her wide cheeks before falling onto his sheets. ¡°I know. I know.¡± She patted his hand gently. ¡°You think that stuff is wishy-washy. But let me do this for you.¡± It was getting hard to hear her. His vision had begun to cloud while his ears felt like they had cotton stuffed in them. Tiredness overwhelmed his bodies and he felt as if his body was sinking into his bed. He knew, in the back of his mind, this was his body reacting to the drugs but he craved for the sleep that called him. He blinked once. His eyelids were getting hard to open. Try as he might, he could not open his eyes again and thus, David Peterson left his world forever.
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1.1.2: A Blank Slate Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 2 Date Unknown David Peterson opened his eyes and saw nothing. For a moment, he thought it was the darkness of night but it could not be. There was nothing. A blank slate of black. Confusion and fear began to course through him as he whirled around looking for anything he could grasp onto as a sense of reality. He patted down his body reflexively, thankful for the smooth texture of his skin against his hand. This was not a dream. For that, he could be thankful. His memories slowly trickled back to him as he calmed himself down. This was the program. David knew this. It took time to transfer data and this was a loading screen. Right! He paced around in a circle trying to calm his ailing mind. While he believed, mostly, this was part of the program, a small but ever growing portion of his mind feared he would be stuck in the blackhole forever. David¡¯s fears were never realized as the black slowly began to pull back from the edges from his position revealing a small office overlaid with books and loose leaf paper. A corner desk, attached to the wall, had a small laptop open playing classical music. The light was too much for David¡¯s eyes. Pained, he clasped a hand over both eyes, shielding them from the brightness of the room. It took a minute before David felt comfortable enough to open his eyes once again. When he did, there was a small woman sitting at the desk looking at him with a bemused expression. Small golden ringlets flowed down from her head partially covering a thin scar lining her brow. ¡°Welcome, Mr. Peterson, to Renewal Eternal.¡± ¡°This is not Thantos?¡± David coughed. He felt as if he had not used his voice in ages. ¡°No, Mr. Peterson.¡± The woman said smiling benignly. ¡°This is a void station that is connected to Renewal Eternal. As of now, Tel-North is using it as a way point for character creation and renewal of all clients.¡± ¡°What is Tel-North and who are you?¡± David asked stupidly. Brushing a hand over her lips, the woman said sweetly, ¡°It¡¯s the parent company of Renewal Eternal and, as for your second question, I¡¯m Abigail Edwards, a board member.¡± She made a face as if annoyed. ¡°We have too few people working as agents and everyone has to spend a few hours a week here to keep up with the traffic.¡± ¡°You may call me Mrs. Edwards.¡± She said a sassy note in her voice. David shivered inside. This woman made him uncomfortable. He had not flirted with anyone in years and, off-the-bat, she went that direction. ¡°So,¡± David hesitated, unsure of what would happen next. ¡°I create my character¡­?¡± ¡°In a way.¡± Mrs. Edwards said. Rifling through the papers on her desk, she picked out a manila folder with a corner turned down and handed it to David. ¡°In here, there is a list of suitable races. Once you have chosen, we can move onto families. Note, you will have this race hereafter. If you don¡¯t like it in the future, too bad.¡± David remembered what Ryan told him about data becoming corrupted if a client changed races. He would rather not experience that fate but he had always had that urge to tempt fate. It was the reason, afterall, he joined the military. There was a common aphorism about military men in this day-and-age. ''Soldiers are only one of three things, patriots, murderers, or thrill-seekers.'' David mulled this saying over in his mind as he began to peruse through the races. The first race he looked at was human and to his surprise there were stats associated with the small description on the bottom.
Human Male
Average Height5¡¯10¡±Average Weight160 lbs.
Strength10Wisdom10
Stamina10Luck10
Diplomacy10Dexterity10
Sub-Skills:
Technology20GrowthExp. * .15
Faith40
Special Characteristics:
Stamina Grows at .5 times Normal Rate
Strength Grows at .75 times Normal Rate
Wisdom Grows at 1.5 times Normal Rate
Diplomacy Grows at 2 times Normal Rate
Technology Grows at 2 times Normal Rate
Humanity is a rather well rounded race. While not the strongest race, nor the fastest, it excels in technological innovation and the production of elemental mages.
¡°What is this?¡± David spluttered gripping the folder in his hand. A tight crunching sound greeted him as the thin paper crumpled in his hand. ¡°Watch it!¡± Mrs. Edwards shouted. ¡°I don¡¯t have a printer in here yet. Do you know how hard it was to transport all these documents here?¡± David¡¯s face turned a pale shade of pink. ¡°Sorry.¡± He muttered. Never one who was great at apologies, he averted his eyes, annoyed at himself. ¡°To answer your question,¡± Mrs. Edwards said as she smoothed her dress, ¡°This is the character creation. I¡¯m sure your agent told you about the level, skill, quest part of the program.¡± When he nodded his head in acquiescence, she continued. ¡°Each race will have certain characteristics that will make your life easier or harder based upon what you want to do with in the future. ¡°Alright.¡± David said slowly. ¡°So, when I die again, will I keep my statistics?¡± ¡°Yes and no.¡± Mrs. Edwards said. ¡°When you die, you automatically have your level and stats reverted to the level 1 version; however, you have the ability to keep one stat of your choosing if you have 10000 gold.¡± David opened his mouth, working it silently. That was a preposterous sum. In any situation, ten-grand was a rather larger amount of money. Frankly, it was the sum he paid to sign up for this program but he no longer had any access to that money. Anger began to course through him at this woman and her company. It felt as if they were toying with his life. But no, it was not that. They were toying with his immortality. Every century or so, they would make him start over, all the while, having the ability to construct a realm where he lived forever. But it would do no good to voice those opinions now. It was his army training, first and foremost, that had conditioned him to shut up at the right times. As a kid, his mouth would run before any thoughts came into his head. Now though, he shut up and looked, once again, at the crumpled races.
Akiean Male
Average Height6¡¯3¡±Average Weight220 lbs.
Strength30Wisdom5
Stamina20Luck5
Diplomacy-10Dexterity20
Sub-Skills:
Technology-10GrowthExp.
Faith75
Special Characteristics:
Diplomacy <= 0
Strength Grows at 3 times Normal Rate
If Wisdom >= 1000, Technology + Technology * (Level/10)
A humanoid race that fervently worships their god Nikoman; however, they are isolated from other races due to their horrid diplomatic tactics.
David frowned. He did not think the Akieans were for him. They were all muscle and no brains. His eyebrows shot up when he saw diplomacy could never go above 0. No matter what, they would be isolated. Frankly, he would not be surprised that in a century or two they were wiped from existence. He flipped the page to the next race.
Raven Male
Average Height2¡¯Average Weight15 lbs.
Strength5Wisdom20
Stamina30Luck50
Diplomacy70Dexterity20
Sub-Skills:
Technology-10GrowthExp. - Exp. * .15
Faith25
Special Characteristics:
Stamina Grows at 3 times Normal Rate
Strength Grows at .1 times Normal Rate
Wisdom Grows at 3 times Normal Rate
If a Client reaches level 100, he has the ability to choose a special skill that will not be removed or reduced when they die.
A black-winged bird that learned, from an unknown source, the ability of speech. Due to this surprising development, the race has become the primary messengers for all other races.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. David sneered down at the paper. He would rather not be a messenger for eternity. Although, a special skill at level 100 was intriguing. He put it on the bottom of the pile and took out another race. This one read as Elves. He skipped it automatically. Who the hell wanted to be an elf for eternity? He skipped a few more uninteresting or bizarre races until he came to one he found marketably interesting.
Ventros Male
Average Height6¡¯1¡±Average Weight180 lbs.
Strength8Wisdom30
Stamina30Luck-10
Diplomacy10Dexterity50
Sub-Skills:
Technology5GrowthExp.
Faith15
Special Characteristics:
Dexterity Grows at 6 times Normal Rate
Strength Grows at .25 times Normal Rate
Wisdom Grows at 2 times Normal Rate
Earth Elemental Affinity +50%
Fire Elemental Affinity +50%
Luck <= 0
Technology <= 5 unless the requirements below are met
If a Client reaches level 100, he has the ability to create a new Auxiliary Element. The Client will have +50% Affinity with the Auxiliary Element. The skill will not be removed or reduced when the Client dies. The Client can share the Auxiliary Element with other races. If the Client chooses this path, Diplomacy growth * 5 and Technology growth * 3 until death.
Ventros are one of the many minor races within Thantos. At present, they number 5. In the past, they produced many champions of the sword; however, that was long ago. It is doubtful if any in their rank remember the old ways. Their present location is currently unknown.
Curious, David looked up. ¡°Can you show me pictures of a male and female Ventros?¡± Mrs. Edwards adopted a look of concentration and began to thumb through the scattered folders on her desk. ¡°Ventros¡­Ventros¡­What continent are they on?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± David said shrugging. ¡°It doesn''t say.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Mrs. Edwards said pensively. ¡°That¡¯s common. Although, I hoped otherwise. The AI systems created so many different races it¡¯s hard to keep track of them all.¡± With a quick motion, Mrs. Edwards stood and nearly ran to the other side of the room, brushing David aside, almost roughly. ¡°Ventros¡­Ventros¡­¡± She continued to mumble this as she scanned the shelves. ¡°Ah¡­Found something.¡± Unfurling a small pamphlet, no more than a page, she scanned it briefly before handing it over to David. ¡°This has all the information the AI has given us.¡± Opening the pamphlet, David scanned it and saw a small, graphical image of a Ventros man and woman standing together as if posing for a picture. The woman was pale-skinned, two small horns jutted through black, almost purplish hair, while she wore a cotton smock over a shapely body. The man was thin, yet, there was a gleam in his eyes that David had in his own eyes. He resonated with the man as he saw the thin, but corded muscles, smooth completion and the longer and thicker horns that curved upward as if reaching towards the heavens. There was only a single paragraph under the picture. And as David read, he could not keep his hand from shaking. This was it. He had already decided whom he wanted to live as. A Ventros. Although their luck was pretty bad, as well as their technology, he could live with it. He would help his race out of the ashes. He grinned as he read the small paragraph. The Ventros were one of the most renowned races on the Vashin Continent. Their prowess with the sword made them famous throughout the lands; however, due to their fame, they were targeted by many of those they defeated, eventually succumbing to the pressure and secluding themselves in an unknown location. Historians of the land lament their loss while all others have forgotten they ever existed. This must be one of the near-extinct races Ryan spoke of earlier. They were a danger to his future. If those few members died, he would not have a chance to reincarnate. Yet, that thrill-seeker mentality began to rebel against cold and cruel logic. A small twinge of sadness enveloped David. He felt a connection to these people already. Their fight was noble. A race, once great, now torn asunder. He felt like he could make his mark with them. If he chose the Human Race or Akiean Race, even, he would be one among millions. A mere statistic in a book. Even with the dangers associated with choosing this race, David felt like the Ventros called to him. A smile enveloped his lips as he looked up from the pamphlet. ¡°I have chosen Mrs. Edwards.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± She said surprised. ¡°The Ventros then? How interesting.¡± Mrs. Edwards said with a small smile. ¡°You like lost causes then.¡± She took a step closer to him. David felt his heart flutter. No. He shook his head and backed up a step. He doubted he would ever see this woman again. A feint look of disappointment crossed Mrs. Edwards¡¯ face before she stepped back. ¡°Very well then.¡± She frowned slightly as she said, ¡°Now all that¡¯s left is to choose your parents and location. Moving smoothly through the mess of the small room, she, once again, sat back down at her desk and quickly perused what looked like a map on her laptop. ¡°Hmm¡­This is interesting.¡± David remained silent. It was easier for her to explain when she finished rather than interrupt her. After a minute of constant clicking, Mrs. Edwards turned to him. ¡°It seems that due to the low volume of Ventros of child-bearing age, you only have one option and one location to choose from. Akain Reshak and Mala Reshak. As the location is unknown, the AI will locate them for us and send you there automatically.¡± ¡°Thank you, Mrs. Edwards.¡± David said gratefully. While he was still annoyed with the company for constantly making him start over, he had eternity to do whatever he wanted. It was truly a blessing. ¡°David, I doubt I¡¯ll ever see you again as your next death will most likely be after I enter the program. So, I wish to say, it was pleasant meeting you.¡± ¡°And you, Mrs. Edwards.¡± David said cordially. ¡°OK.¡± She breathed in deeply, turned to her computer, and did some quick typing. ¡°Close your eyes. I¡¯ve been told this can cause extreme nausea so try to remain calm.¡± David did as instructed. ¡°In 5¡­4¡­.3¡­2¡­1¡± A flash of light smashed all his senses into smithereens as David felt like he was riding the world¡¯s worst roller coaster. He no doubt threw up more than once but he was too nauseous to even think at that point. After what felt like eternity, he stopped moving and an infant¡¯s cry rent his ears.
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1.1.3: Frustration Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 3 AUTHOR''S NOTE The Main Character''s name changes in this chapter due to his reincarnation. Don''t panic! It will not change again. Or, at least, for a long time. Second Note: Ouroboros is a snake biting it''s own tail
2 R.E. ¨C 8 R.E. In 2 R.E., David Peterson was reborn as a Ventros to Akain and Tai Reshak. They named him Rajac. David, or Rajac, he still had no idea which name he wanted to go by, sat in a crib, annoyed by the whole situation. Who the fuck wanted to be stuck in a crib at age sixty-seven! It was galling. However, he had chosen this fate so he grit his teeth and lay there waiting for time to pass. And it did so, ever so slowly. The first few years were utter torture for him. Learning to walk and talk again was hard enough, but the fine line he had to walk with his new parents began to weigh on him heavily. They knew he was a Client. It was obvious from the moment he was born. The ouroboros on his shoulder made all who came into contact with him know his true identity. But, his parents, for they had become that over the first few years, wanted him to forget his old life. He refused point blank. There was no way he would forget Carolyne. As of his sixth birthday, they had reached a stalemate. While there was no formal agreement, Rajac and his parents no longer brought up his past life. Thus, David became Rajac and he kept his past to himself. Rajac sat on a long outcropping of rock, overlooking the valley they lived in with his aunt, uncle, and grandfather. The only Ventros who remained. It was sad, in a way, but the events he had read about in Mrs. Edwards¡¯ office happened long ago. His family knew little of their past, and what little they did know, was little use to him. There were no skills he could learn, no quests he could follow, and no levels to be had. It had put him in a foul mood as of late. He should be having the time of his life right now. But instead, he was stuck mucking out the latrine. God above, why the hell did he choose the Ventros! ¡°Rajac! Rajac!¡± Great, it was his father. He liked the man well enough, but these damn programmers tried to make the familial bonds too close. His family was back on Earth, not Thantos. Sighing, he rose, and said in a neutral tone, ¡°Over here father.¡± Akain Reshak heaved himself up onto the hill and sat down tiredly, a sheen of sweat glistening his short and bowed horns. Rajac had been disappointed his father was not the man he had seen in the photo in Mrs. Edwards¡¯ office. That man was impressive. His father, on the other hand, well¡­Rajac would say he was average, at best. A short man, he had dark hair, cut short, in an obvious attempt to make his horns look bigger than they were. Even Rajac¡¯s horns were bigger than his and they were hidden somewhat by a mass of raven hair that cascaded down his head. He was quite fond of it. During his life on Earth, he never had the chance to have long hair. While in the army, he had worn it short due to regulations and after he retired, there was too little remaining to even consider the notion. ¡°Rajac, what are you doing up here? Your mother is frantic.¡± Akain said, heaving with the exertion of climbing this far up. ¡°Watching the birds father.¡± Rajac said shrugging. It was a non-answer and they both knew it. Akain snorted and thumped to the ground on the cliff¡¯s edge. ¡°Come sit with me.¡± Rajac sat silently waiting for the fight that would surely follow. He knew exactly why his mother was looking for him. In part it was due to him not being where he was supposed to it. But mostly, it was due to Rajac not finishing any of his chores for the day. Rajac felt some guilt about both ends of the problem, yet, he could not bring himself to go down to the valley. It would be just another day of chores. He felt his insides curdle at the thought. ¡°Rajac,¡± his father said, ¡°leaning back with both of his hands, ¡°I know you have no taste for this simple life of ours and I don¡¯t blame you.¡± Akain ruffled Rajac¡¯s hair playfully. God, how Rajac hated that. But, he put up with it. Otherwise, another fight. It was an endless cycle. Honestly, everything in this bloody valley was. The sun rose in the east, set in the west. The vegetables they grew in the west and the fruits in the east, rotating them each year. The animals stayed the same year in and year out as his family hardly ate meat. The only thing new, in ages, was his aunt and uncle were expecting a child any day now. ¡°Father.¡± Rajac said, stopping his father¡¯s playfulness with a sharp turn of his head, prodding the annoying hand with the tips of his razor-sharp horns. ¡°Oww.¡± Akain shook his hand melodramatically. ¡°Sorry.¡± Rajac said automatically before continuing. ¡°The life¡¯s not bad.¡± And it was true, while bland and monotonous, it wasn¡¯t a fiery pit of hell he could have been trapped in. ¡°But, it was not what I was hoping for.¡± Rajac saw his father cringe and immediately regretted his words. While he had not meant it, his father thought Rajac was referring to his Client status. ¡°Rajac,¡± Akain said, an edge to his voice, ¡°Everyone cannot be an adventurer, a merchant, or a prince. Everyone has a part to play and our part involves us staying right here.¡± Akain emphasized the valley below by jabbing a finger at it like it was tangible. Rajac was in no mood to argue so he just shrugged. ¡°Fine father.¡± He grunted annoyed. Akain laughed and attempted to tussle Rajac¡¯s head once again, however, Rajac pulled away. ¡°Rajac, what is it you want from me?¡± Akain shouted in exasperation. ¡°I know it¡¯s hard for you, but you¡¯re making no effort at all.¡± Rajac stood suddenly, no longer able to keep his anger in. ¡°It¡¯s because you treat me like a child when you know very well that I¡¯m not. It¡¯s because¡­It¡¯s because¡­GAHHH!¡± Rajac gripped his head in his hands, his long hair extending in strange angles as he threw his head back. ¡°I have not been so infuriated in ages.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Akain took a step back, precariously close to the edge of the cliff, surprised. ¡°Rajac, you¡­¡± But Rajac did not allow him to finish. ¡°You ask for me to subsist to all of your whims. But why should I, I bloody paid for this! I do not want to be treated like a child! I joined your race because I wanted to be a warrior, to save us from extinction, to reclaim our race¡¯s honor! But you don¡¯t even care about that!¡± Rajac spit the last few sentences into his father¡¯s face. He heaved with his anger that he had kept buried deep all these years. His father, surprisingly, let out a sharp bark of laughter. ¡°Hahahaha! Rajac you could have talked to us you know. It¡¯s not as if we don¡¯t know where you came from. Your ouroboros tells us that plain enough. While we understand¡­¡± He paused, looking crestfallen. ¡°It is difficult, you know, to have a son who is not solely our own. But, we understand. The Gods have granted you second lives and it is your prerogative on how you use them.¡± Rajac felt somewhat guilty. Even though he was older than the man whom raised him, he still felt like Akain was his father. At least, in this world. Thantos was a far different place than Earth and both his mother and father took him in and loved him unconditionally. It was a strange thing to experience, but to Rajac, it felt natural. ¡°You are my father, let me make that perfectly clear.¡± Rajac said solemnly. ¡°It is true, in my previous life, I had my own family but I will never see them again. You are my family now.¡± Rajac felt a lump in his throat as he thought about Carolyne. ¡°Rajac.¡± His father said softly. ¡°I am sorry. I know this has been hard on you as well. Come, let us go back to the valley and on the way you can tell me about them.¡± As they walked, Rajac told his father about Carolyne. Her like, dislikes, stories of funny events, sad stories, and his last day with her. He even told a story or two about his ex-wife, remarkable even for him, as he had not thought about her in years. When they arrived back at their farm in the center of the valley, they were both in good spirits. As Rajac began to walk through the front door, his father called back to him. ¡°Rajac, wait one moment. Your mother is most likely preparing dinner with your uncle at the moment. Come, I want to show you something.¡± There was a gleam in his eyes Rajac had rarely seen. He followed his father to the far end of the house where the wine cellar jutted out from the ground. A concrete slap, enclosed by two wooden doors, stood solemnly against the thin weeds surrounding it. ¡°Hrgh.¡± Akain said as he lifted each of the wooden doors as a wave of dust permeated the air. Rajac turned his head from the cloud and hurriedly followed his father inside. There was little light that permeated the cramped space. Crack! Rajac turned hurriedly, his senses overwhelming him in the near dark. A pungent plum aroma announced it was only a wine bottle. ¡°Careful.¡± His father warned. ¡°I¡¯ll get a torch.¡± Akain climbed back out of the cellar and returned a moment later with a blazing inferno clutched in his hand. ¡°Follow me closely.¡± Akain said as he burned a few spider webs out of his way. Only a short way into the cellar, Akain stopped. ¡°Ah!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°Here it is.¡± A small desk stood bowed in the corner of the cellar, caked with dust. His father bent over the table wiping dust from the center of the table revealing a small leather book. Surprised, Rajac leaned closer noticing the aged and cracked pages of the book along with what must have been a fine gloss that had once covered the book. For the millionth time, Rajac lamented there were no Identifier Merchants anywhere near their valley. In fact, he knew of no Identifier Merchants anywhere. Rarely, a traveler came to the valley, but he left as soon as he found there was nothing to trade. Sometimes, Rajac asked the traveler about a location of an Identifier Merchant but every time they pointed in a general direction. It was just his bad luck he lived in a valley in the middle of nowhere. Well, that was not exactly true. It was near the western coast of the Vashin continent in unclaimed territory where many of the wild races roamed. Rajac thought it was due to this that none of the Identifier Merchants made their way out here. It was just too dangerous in many of the regions. Due to the lack of an Identifier Merchant, Rajac had no idea what his level was, his skill were, or if he even had a quest. His position could be considered laughable if not for his relationship with his family. An IM would be great to have to understand the value of a book such as this, Rajac thought with wonder as his father slowly opened the ancient book. ¡°Rajac,¡± his father said with a gravity Rajac had not known him to possess. ¡°This book is the last remaining vestige of our history. I was not going to give it to you until you were older, no matter how much you pestered me; however, you proved today, that we both need to grow up a little.¡± Akian chuckled at that and handed a flabbergasted Rajac the book. Rajac looked down at the small book. It felt almost weightless in his hands as he stared dumbfounded at what he had been searching for nearly six years. The title read The Four Forms of the Ventric Sword Style. Finally, he could begin to help his family in a way that truly mattered. Hugging the book to his chest like a child, an ironic action if there ever was one, Rajac ran straight out of the cellar, ignoring his father¡¯s call after him. He needed to train!
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1.1.4: To Find A Way Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 4 AUTHOR''S NOTE I hope you like this chapter! Please let me know what you think below.
8 R.E.-11 R.E. Rajac spent the next few days immersed in the book as he avidly read the contents. Disappointingly, however, the book was rather vague on the exact details of the style and only outlined the basics. From his understanding, Rajac sensed the Ventric Sword Style was a defensive style that required extreme dexterity and marvelous footwork to be a master at. Due to the lack of an Identity Merchant, he still had no idea what his skills were or how to increase them quickly within this world. Therefore, he had to manually discover the proper way to train in the style, almost an impossible task. He considered using his military training as a basis to formulate a training regime; however, after careful analysis, put the idea aside. While it would benefit him in the long run, the training regime he was familiar with would increase his strength and stamina not his footwork and dexterity. After a week of muddled thought, he set the book aside on his shelf. It would do him no good at the movement. If his race remembered their past, he would not have this problem. They, undoubtedly, would have the skill and knowledge to train him in their own style. For the millionth time, he raged at himself for choosing this race. Only 5 members. What was he thinking! In truth, he had become somewhat nervous over the past few years about the limited number of people within his race. As he could only belong to the Ventros race, if Rajac died and the Ventros died off, what would happen to Rajac? The problem had intermittently arisen as he understood the apparent weakness of his race within the world. Outside the valley, monstrous creatures and barbarous races roamed, claiming small chunks of territory for their own, all-the-while having small-scale battles which turned the forests red with blood. From what his father said, the only reason the Ventros were passably safe within the valley, was due to the extreme height and near unscalability, without knowing the correct paths, of Creva Mountain on which they resided. While his father seemed content with the situation, Rajac certainly was not. At any time, a lucky raiding party could stumble upon their small residence and butcher his whole family. He needed to secure his family¡¯s future, his future, and perhaps his entire race¡¯s future. To do that, he needed to learn how to fight in this bloody style. His former training would be no use to him here as it relied upon advanced weaponry not found in this archetypal era. Without any better direction to head, he began to train using his old military regime even though it was not suited to the Ventros sword style. A morning run, followed by crunches, and after his chores, Rajac began strengthening exercises including pushups, pull-ups, squats, and curls. The months passed quickly. One month after Rajac began his training, his cousin, Dadaras, was born. Three months after that, his grandfather fell ill. Yorin Rashak was a lively man. Always the first to rise in the morning and the latest to bed. Energy exuded from him in leaps-and-bounds; however, after he fell ill, he spent an ever increasing amount of time within his rooms, too sick or too tired to rise. Even with little Dadras¡¯ birth, the mood within the valley had dampened considerably that year. The farming was done with apathetic demeanors, the animals fed with listless behavior, and Dadras heartily ignored by all except his parents. The years passed in this way. His mother and father kept to themselves while his aunt and uncle did the same. It seemed as if the only thing holding the family together anymore was his grandfather. Ironic perhaps, the relationship Rajac had with his extended family was much like the one he had with his ex-wife. Carolyne was the branch between them and when she left the house, their marriage disintegrated faster than the changing seasons. It felt as if there was a force attempting to ground his race into the dust. One month, little baby Dadras was born. His family had never been closer during that singular time; however, almost instantly, that bond was destroyed. Much like the scattering of leaves, his family separated, rarely speaking or interacting in any notable way. Rajac feared that when Yorin died, his race would cease along with his family. His mother and father whispered about it when they thought he was asleep. They earnestly believed his aunt and uncle would take Dadaras and move away to a safer location in one of the larger kingdoms like Azor or Gerosh and farm there. To Rajac, that was as good as destroying the last vestiges of his future. If they moved away, anything could happen to them. From the few travelers who passed through the valley, Rajac learned that war had come to the lands to the south recently and would not abate for some time. It was entirely possible they could become involved in the war in some tangential way and perish because of it. It only made Rajac train even harder. To protect his future, he needed to become strong. Over the next few years, Rajac¡¯s stamina increased dramatically. While he had begun by running only two miles a day, by the second year of his training, he had increased the distance to four miles. His strength, however, lagged behind his stamina. He knew, from the characteristics sheet he read in Mrs. Edwards¡¯ office that Ventros grow stronger only one-fourth as fast as the average race on Thantos. To offset the discrepancy, Rajac began to climb the rocky hillside after his run each morning. While not particularly steep, he had found, in the past, that climbing used a wide variety of muscles in the body, making for an excellent exercise. During his third year training, he increased in strength dramatically. Muscles formed in his arms and his hands grip-strength increased ten-fold. By the age of nine, Rajac was already well over 5 feet tall and had a refined, almost sculpted look. He no longer complained about the chores he had to complete each day. They were trivialities to his other tasks each day. What was milking the cows compared to five-hundred crunches? One misty morning after his morning workout, Rajac found himself sitting in a damp patch of grass, leaning against the wall of the chicken coop, casually flipping through his book. It had become something of a ritual for him as he found very few insights into the style as he mechanically read each page and memorized each picture. He had attempted to practice the forms, of course. But it was useless. The footwork was so complicated for even the simplest maneuvers. The first form, the Cadence of Jin, was supposedly the simplest form; however, even with the outlay of the twenty-eight movements, Rajac was never able to complete more than the first eight in a row before stumbling or swinging the tree-branch, he used in place of a sword, incorrectly. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The crunching of grass made Rajac perk his head up from the book. ¡°Rajac? Is that you?¡± Yorin, his grandfather asked. He was stooped in the shoulders, a twisted and worn cane gripped in a thin and wispy hand. Rajac blinked in surprise as he saw the old man, hurriedly putting the book down on a dry piece of dirt. ¡°Grandfather,¡± Rajac said respectively. ¡°What are you doing up?¡± It had been a long time since Rajac had seen his grandfather emerge from his rooms any earlier than the noonday meal. ¡°Haha.¡± Yorin chuckled as he bent down to peer at Rajac, his long supple horns barely skimmed over the grass as he did so. ¡°Your grandfather is feeling the need for a walk this morning. Time to stretch out these aching muscles.¡± There were hardly any muscles left on the Yorin¡¯s old frame. In the past few years, Yorin¡¯s robust girth had become an emaciated wasteland eaten by the disease that consumed him. ¡°Grandfather, may I accompany you?¡± Rajac asked. He had been close to his grandfather ever since he could talk. While his mother and father were agitated about his Client status, his grandfather took it in stride. Furthermore, his grandfather knew much more of the world than both his father and mother, thus, Rajac could talk to him about interesting topics rather than farming every day. ¡°Of course!¡± Yorin said with a tooth grin. ¡°Why do you think I went out to find you?¡± Rajac rose, collected his book, and with a laugh followed his grandfather through the damp grass. For a time, they spoke of trivialities that family often do. The coming of summer. The chores that needed to be completed before then. How Dadras was doing. How his grandfather¡¯s health was doing. But after a time, they fell silent as they had worn through the common topics. ¡°Rajac,¡± his grandfather said while they stood under a ripening orange tree, ¡°I see you still carry that book around everywhere.¡± Rajac, never feeling the need to defend himself with his grandfather said honestly, ¡°I wish to protect our race grandfather. With this book, I believe it will be possible to do so.¡± ¡°Such brevity.¡± Yorin said as he plucked off an orange from the tree. A cascade of raindrops sprayed them with cool water. A refreshing treat after their long walk. ¡°You would have fit in well with the Ventros of old. They told the honest truth and defended it with the sword.¡± Rajac doubted he would have fit in but he did not say so to his grandfather. After all, too much honesty could be a curse to all who heard it. ¡°Grandfather, you are too kind.¡± ¡°Rajac.¡± His grandfather paused as he peeled the orange with one shaking hand. ¡°Our people were not meant to be farmers no matter what your parents say.¡± ¡°They are content in their position.¡± Rajac knew he had no chance to convince them otherwise. Yorin sighed. ¡°As you say, but you are different. You have the spark that made our race what it once was. I don¡¯t know if you received that spark in your past life or from our ancestors, but it is in you like it once was in me.¡± ¡°Grandfather,¡± Rajac said in surprise, ¡°You wanted to be a warrior?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± Yorin said as he greedily chomped down on the whole orange as juice squirted from his hand in all directions. ¡°But that was long in the past. I never had any talent with it nor the patience and endurance I¡¯ve seen you display. When my father still lived, I had the same idea as you. If I trained hard enough, then I could master the forms in the blasted book, finally becoming a Ventros warrior of old, making our race rise once again. But it was not to be. I had little talent to begin with and when my results were lacking, I gave up on the idea all together. Soon after though, your grandmother and I were married, uniting the last two clans of Ventros within the valley.¡± ¡°Grandfather,¡± Rajac said respectfully, ¡°I have had difficulties with the training as well. My dexterity and footwork have paled in comparison to the gains I have made in strength and stamina. It is my bad luck I have trouble in the two areas in which the Ventros sword forms require mastery.¡± ¡°Ha. And you think you lack understanding.¡± Yorin said, taking another bite of his orange. ¡°I did not even understand that much. But dexterity and footwork are not too difficult to train, I think.¡± His grandfather said with a ponderous expression. ¡°You think?¡± Rajac said as excitement began to course through him. Would his grandfather give him the way to break the block he had struggled with for years? ¡°Naturally. Practice.¡± His grandfather let out a belly-laugh and Rajac groaned inwardly. He knew it would have been too easy otherwise. ¡°Grandfather, that was too cruel.¡± Rajac said, somewhat annoyed. ¡°I know, dear boy. But the look on your face, I just had to. You understand.¡± His grandfather laughed once again. Rajac took an orange down from the tree, carefully plucking one that showed no hint of green. ¡°Grandfather, do you think there are any other Ventros out there, somewhere?¡± Rajac asked absently as he peeled his orange. He always hoped there were, no matter what the characteristics sheet said. ¡°It¡¯s entirely possible.¡± His grandfather shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. My grandfather was the last of the open Ventros on the continent. He was the one to come the valley with his three sons and their wives. However, whatever happened to the rest of the Ventros, I don¡¯t know. At that time, many died due to assassinations and the various wars raging across the continent. Only the small remnants of our Rahsak clan came here.¡± So there is hope, Rajac thought, his unease receding somewhat. If all the Ventros were dead with certainty, that would be one thing, but there was hope. A slim hope to be sure, but a hope all the same. When he became stronger, he would have to go look for them, even if it took his whole life. He had no choice. All his other lives mattered on the result. ¡°Ahhh.¡± Yorin stretched and yawned widely. ¡°I think your grandfather needs to go lay down once again. Come Rajac. Let us head back to the farm.¡± Rajac silently followed his grandfather, his head lost in thought.
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1.1.5: Chance Meeting? Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 5 AUTHOR''S NOTE There is, at most, one more training chapter. Bear with me!
11 R.E. ¨C 15 R.E. Grandfather Yorin died that winter. The disease that had ravaged him for years finally caught him in the end. While it dawned on his body like a parasitic worm, it never took the love of life from his eyes. While Rajac grieved for his grandfather, he knew death was a part of life, except for the lucky few who cheated death through Renewal Eternal. Rajac did not become depressed by his death like so many do during such times, instead he found light in the memories of his grandfather. Memories he would cherish along the same note as those he had with Carolyne. Rajac continued his training through the winter and into the spring. By summer, he was able to complete the first fourteen movements of the Cadence of Jin to perfection. Every month or so, he progressed. While it was minimalistic, Rajac was content to train in peace. He could not rush to understand the forms. When he first began on this path, Rajac thought with enough effort, he could master all the forms. His grandfather thought practice was the way to mastering the forms. That was true, in a way, however, they also required understanding. The Cadence of Jin, for example, began with a single step; however, the step had many different variations. After much consideration, Rajac had to conclude that every step in the Cadence was in reaction to an opponent. Thus, the first step was in reaction to an opponent¡¯s movement, as well as every other step in the form. Therefore, there were millions of variations of the Cadence. Understanding this, it had become easier to master the steps in the Cadence. Although, it was still a grueling process that required extreme dedication on his part. Not much changed in the valley until that summer. While Rajac began to understand the Cadence, he did not notice the brewing tension between his family. It all came to a head early in the summer when Uncle Narl put down one of the older cows without asking Rajac¡¯s father first. A simple act but the tension between the families had reached a boiling point and now that Grandfather Yorin was gone, there was no one to keep the peace. Akain and Narl nearly came to blows in the yard over the matter and the next week Rajac¡¯s aunt and uncle took Dadras and moved to the small province of Thekanur in the kingdom of Azor. Rajac could not stop them; however, he promised himself, when he mastered the forms, he would search them out while he searched for the rest of the Ventros race and bring them back to the valley by persuasion or any other means at his disposal. Time passed and the valley remained as serene as always. Rajac¡¯s father and mother began to intentionally forget there ever had been another sect of the Rashak Clan living in the valley. Instead, they began devote their whole attention to their son. However, he had not forgotten his aunt, uncle, and cousin. It was one of the many things that drove him forward in his goal to master the forms. By the time he was eleven, Rajac could complete the Cadence of Jin without any apparent faults. Even as he swung his tree-branch and moved in a quicker than humanly possible way, he became increasingly disturbed by a nagging feeling that the form was not complete. He studiously read his small book looking for minute infractions, yet, he found none. Everything was perfect. His stance, his footwork, and his sword-arm all acted in unison to defend from an opponent. But it was not a complete Ventros Sword Form. He pondered the problem for days-on-end, refusing sleep in his pursuit of the mastery of the form. For hours, he practiced the form. Moving slowly through the steps like it was a dance; however, no insights came to him. Frustration nearly overwhelmed him at points but he never gave in. After what must have been the thousandth time he went through the whole form, he had a thought. More of an inkling but it was all he had. The character sheet said the Ventros had an affinity to the earth and fire elements. If that was true, then surely the forms would include them as well. However, he had no idea how magic worked in Thantos nor did his mother and father. Frankly, they had never even heard the fact that Ventros could even use magic or had an affinity to it. Apparently, not all the races could use it. By the time Rajac turned 12, he was out of ideas. He knew that magic was the way to complete the form. It was the only option. Incongruously, though, Rajac was no closer to completing the form. At least, in the sword forms, Rajac had a head start. He knew how a sword was supposed to operate and the purpose of the steps within the Cadence; however, he had no idea how to create magic. He tried all the old ideas he learned in his past-life about magic. Praying, chanting, believing, letting blood. Nothing worked. The letting blood idea was particularly bad. His parents found him in the barn covered with gashes on both of his arms as he mediated attempting to feel the earth. Naturally, it did not go over well when he explained the purpose. To dissuade him from ever trying something that foolish again, they heaped even more chores upon him. Though, Rajac thought it was probably necessary as Uncle Narl had picked up a lot of the work when Grandfather Yorin fell ill. Rajac continued to train and practice his forms; however, he kept attempts to use magic hidden from his parents. While they knew he was probably continuing his attempts, they chose not to accuse him of going against their wishes without proof. Life stayed the same until Rajac was 13. It was summer time and Rajac was in the eastern field harvesting wheat. A small barrow, rusted with age, stood full to the brim with his work as he heaved load after load of wheat into the barrow. When it was full, Rajac stood, his back sore from the constant bending over. A sheen of sweat dampened his whole body as he lugged the barrow back towards the granary on the far eastern slope of the valley. Muscles bulged under the white cotton of his shirt. While he had not been able to improve the Cadence of Jin within the last year, he had increased his strength and stamina training and it had an impressive effect on his body. Rajac believed that even in his past-life, he never had a body as fit as the one he had now. Once Rajac arrived at the granary, he pulled the barrow in after him, storing the contents of the barrow on the top-shelf. It would have to have preservatives added at a later date but he thought they would have more than enough wheat to last straight through the next year. As he closed the door to the granary, leaving the barrow inside, a shout from the eastern entrance into the valley caused Rajac to instinctively move into the first step of the Cadence of Jin. Rajac looked for the source. An older man wearing a cotton tunic and pants covered by a knee-length travel cloak, a short-word on his hip and carrying a pack stood at the entrance to the valley, a hand raised overhead in greeting. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Rajac stayed in his defensive posture as the man approached. Apparently, the man did not notice Rajac¡¯s stance and casual walked up to him. When he was twenty paces out, the man called out, ¡°Hello there!¡± Rajac eyed the man closer. He had an ovular face with a variety of different colored whiskers intermixing between white and black growing on his face. A human! Rajac thought in surprise. There were very few of them that passed through the Western Territories. They were usually too weak. At least, that¡¯s what most of the travelers told Rajac as they snorted in disdain. Rajac stood straight, crossing his arms. While he felt no threat from this man, Rajac still had to be wary. Anyone who could make it to the valley was either a very dangerous individual or a very lucky individual. ¡°Who are you?¡± Rajac said coldly. The man¡¯s lips quirked as he walked closer. ¡°I might ask the same. A child in the Western Territories? Who would have thought such a thing?¡± The man chuckled heartily as he approached. ¡°My family has lived here for centuries. Even the most adventurous of the races don¡¯t come here willingly.¡± ¡°Ha. That¡¯s the truth.¡± The man said as he dropped his sack on the ground with a thump. ¡°Name¡¯s Thron.¡± He said reaching out a hand in greeting. Hesitantly, Rajac did the same. ¡°Rajac.¡± Thron bent down opening his back and pulled out a thick slab of roasted meat. Rajac opened his eyes wide in surprise. Meat was rare in the valley. They had to subsist off of fruit and vegetables and the occasional cow when it became old as it was too dangerous outside of the valley to hunt. Tearing off a chunk, Thron gobbled it in his mouth then wiped it with a sleeve. Turning to Rajac, he said, with another quirk of his lips, ¡°You want some?¡± Rajac, once again hesitated. Could Thron be trying to poison him? But no, he already ate part of it. Rajac nodded vigorously and Thron handed him a rather large piece. It was good. Salty and sweet at the same time with just the right amount of juice. As he ate, Rajac began to warm to the man. While it could be said it was not all due to the food, it mostly was with the tiniest smidgen concerning the man¡¯s obvious quirks. ¡°How did you make it all the way out here?¡± Rajac asked curiously as he ate the meat. ¡°Oh that?¡± Thron said, a curious expression on his face. ¡°Luck, I guess. I¡¯m not really that strong and the magic I possess is tiny in comparison with most in the region.¡± Rajac nearly dropped the meat he was carrying as his face lit up in surprise. Breathe, damn you, breathe. Closing his eyes, he collected himself. ¡°You have magic?¡± Rajac said neutrally. ¡°Naturally. Don¡¯t you?¡± Thron asked confused. ¡°Well, no. I was told only certain races have magic.¡± Rajac said flustered. Thron pulled out his short-sword from his belt. Turning it hilt first towards Rajac, Thron said, ¡°See here,¡± Thron pointed to a small green stone inset into the hilt. ¡°This is a Sadat. Those who are unable to use magic use these stones for magical purposes. They never fail and never wear out; however, they are common enough to where you can buy them rather cheaply in any major city. I guess that all the way out here you never heard of them.¡± ¡°No.¡± Rajac said, shaking his head, still stunned. ¡°Never. I wish I had. I would have gone to a city and bought one. It would have been very useful.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Thron said seriously, setting his jaw. ¡°I was lucky in even making it this far but you would be more than helpless outside this valley.¡± Rajac thought there was some sense that and agreed with the man. Thron looked down at the sword frowning as if considering a deeply concerning problem. ¡°Have it.¡± He said finally. ¡°What?¡± Rajac asked confused. ¡°Have the sword.¡± Thron said proffering the hilt. ¡°It¡¯s more use to you than me.¡± Rajac felt a surge of shock and greed almost overpower him as he thought of snatching the sword away from the old man. ¡°But surely you need it?¡± Rajac asked instead as he grit his teeth before he said anything he would regret later. ¡°No.¡± Thron said solemnly. ¡°I was never much of a sword fighter and I have two more Sadats that will help me on this journey.¡± Rajac could not believe the turn of events as he finally accepted the proffered sword with outstretched arms. A pained look crossed Thron¡¯s face as he stood there awkwardly for a moment. ¡°Hrm.¡± Thron cleared his throat. ¡°Do you mind if I stay in the valley tonight. Here will be fine. I just need a night¡¯s rest and I¡¯ll be off.¡± ¡°Yes. I believe it¡¯s appropriate considering this gift.¡± Rajac said, still staring at the sword in awe. ¡°Thank you for your gracious hospitality.¡± Thron said, bowing slightly, a smile playing on his lips. ¡°I¡¯ll go make some lunch for you while you¡¯re here and you can tell me more about the Sadat and perhaps the outside world?¡± Rajac tacked the question on the end. Thron nodded and said, ¡°I¡¯ll be here.¡± Rajac rushed off and cobbled together a quick lunch for the both of them; however, when he returned, Thron had gone. The only thing that remained of his visit was the sword Rajac now carried on his belt. ~ Thron the Historian walked merrily through the exit to the valley on the top of Creva Mountain. He had found the Ventros after all these years of searching. And when he had seen that boy perform the first step to the Cadence of Jin so expertly, his heart nearly jumped into his throat. However, it looked as if there were very few of them left. He had hoped that they would have a bustling community as they hid in seclusion all these centuries. But it looked as if all the assassinations and wars caught up to the once mighty race. The few who remained appeared to be farmers by the wide fields percolating the curved landscape of the valley. But that boy, Rajac, he could rise to be another Balzar with footwork like that at his age. My gods, how incredible. And maybe, just maybe, he could overcome the barriers of the Sadat like Balzar did as well. Time would tell. Soon, perhaps, he would tell the world of the Ventros¡¯ return. But not just yet. That boy had to become what Thron hoped he would be; otherwise, the Ventros could very well become the next race to die off.
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1.1.6: Mastery Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 6 AUTHOR''S NOTE The book Rajac speaks of is the Four Forms of the Ventros Sword Style
15 R.E. ¨C 20 R.E. Rajac was genuinely worried when Thron disappeared that day. As he looked for him within the valley, he felt even more strongly that Thron had met some ill-fated end while Rajac prepared his lunch. It was rare, but known to happen, a stray monster would enter the mouth of the valley. When this occurred, Uncle Narl or father would pelt the creature with arrows until it left, looking for easier prey, or died from its wounds. Not finding any trace of Thron, Rajac spent the next few days outside of the valley searching for the man. He ventured deeper down the mountain than he had ever before as he was willing to go to great lengths for the man who had given him his Sadat. But, alas, Rajac was unable to find any trace of him. Reluctantly, after a week of searching, Rajac gave the matter up, hoping Thron was safe, wherever he had gone. The next few days, after Rajac stopped searching for Thron, he began to attempt to figure out how the Sadat worked. Thron claimed these stones were used often and so, Rajac concluded, they must be easy to use. His first attempt at using the Sadat turned out rather well, depending on your point of view. Instead of using a tree-branch, Rajac used the sword Thron had given him instead. When he made the first step in the Cadence, he attempted to will a wall of earth to shield his flank. Instead, a giant mountain of dirt soared into the sky, tearing up the roots of the towering oaks fifty paces wide, with him at the epicenter. After some careful tinkering, he realized the force of the thought helped to modify the strength of the magic. As he had reservations about whether his attempt would actually work, he thought much harder than he needed to create a geyser-like explosion of dirt, rather than a wall. Furthermore, he thought that his race¡¯s affinity with earth might have overcharged the magic much more than was usual. Over the next few weeks, Rajac began to interweave Earth Elemental Magic into the Cadence of Jin. Every step he took, he threw up a wall of dirt to cover his back. Then, just as he took his next step, he sunk the wall back into the ground and threw up another wall just behind him. By the fourth month of interweaving elemental magic, he had mastered the Cadence of Jin. It was an ultimate defense. Truly. While the Cadence of Jin, without the use of elemental magic, was a one-on-one defensive form. The Cadence, with elemental magic, was a one-versus-many form. While Rajac concentrated on a singular opponent, the wall of earth protected him against all the others. If Rajac defeated one opponent, he could alter his next step to face the next opponent while throwing up a wall to defend against the rest. This tactic could be used to face multiple opponents, all at the same time. At 14, he began to learn the second form of the Ventros Sword Style, Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, and his mother became pregnant. It was, once again, a time of joy for the Rashak household. Rajac spent a little more time in the house, helping his mother, and a little less time training. Martyr¡¯s Fallacy was quite different from the Cadence of Jin. While the Cadence was defensive in nature, Martyr¡¯s Fallacy was offensive. He had attempted to practice Martyr¡¯s Fallacy at the same time as the Cadence; however, he found he had even more trouble completing the steps for this form than the Cadence so he gave it up until a later date. Now though, Rajac found he was able to understand the form much more clearly than before. He was not lacking only in footwork but the fact that each form interwove elemental magic into it. Martyr¡¯s Fallacy used fire elemental magic to augment each thrust. While each step in the Cadence was in response to an opponent, the Fallacy attempted to make an opponent respond to you. Therefore, just as the Cadence had a million variations so too did Martyr¡¯s Fallacy. As Rajac attempted to master Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, he interwove Fire Elemental Magic into the form. Perhaps due to this, he was able to master the Fallacy faster than he mastered the Cadence. When he mastered up to the seventeenth step out of the thirty-five within the form, his little sister Nisa was born. It was one of the happiest times in Rajac¡¯s new life. While Dadras¡¯ birth was marked by the same feeling, it was marred by Grandfather Yorin¡¯s illness. This time, there was no calamitous event that intentionally spread ill will. As the months and later years passed, Rajac trained his body and mastered Martyr¡¯s Fallacy. Rajac worked himself well past exhaustion every day. Now that Nisa had been born, his mother had to spend a lot more of her time with Nisa than with her own daily chores. Though Rajac¡¯s father helped, Rajac took on most of the burden. On average, his daily chores took him from early in the morning to mid-evening without break, yet, he remained vigilant in his training. His family and his race were the two most important things within his life. By helping one, he helped the other. So, Rajac welcomed the exhaustion and he was rewarded for his hard work. By the time he turned 16, he had mastered Martyr¡¯s Fallacy and he had increased his stamina, strength, and dexterity greatly from when he was a child. While his strength could be considered to be that of a fit human, Rajac was able to run 8 miles each morning while his dexterity proved to be monstrously quick in relation to the speed and skill he demonstrated when performing the two forms he had mastered. Rajac decided years ago, when he mastered Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, he would not attempt to learn the other two forms yet. As he studied his book, a daily ritual, he had realized the forms were not only a grouping of four, but had sub-groups as well. The first two forms, the Cadence of Jin and Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, were to be used in concert with each other. The Cadence and Fallacy could be used to attack and defend at the same time, driving an opponent into a corner while defending against a mass of opponents at the same time. And when Rajac mastered the ability to use all four forms in concert, he would be a true master of the Ventros Sword Style. But as Rajac melded the first two forms together, he found that he was tiring of life in the valley. He had no complaints about life at home nor the chores he was given but an ache had begun to grow behind his breast. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. He wanted to see the world of Thantos. So far, he¡¯d seen no more than a couple dozen miles of it¡¯s landscape. Furthermore, he needed to search for the rest of the Ventros to protect his future. Even though he yearned to leave the valley, his heart ached when he thought of abandoning his family here. He loved both his mother and father even though they could truly be stubborn in their ways and he was even fonder of his little sister, Nisa, whom had begun to watch his training over the last few years with avid fascination. For the next two years, he trained with a heavy heart as he melded the two forms together, interweaving both elements and steps of each form. Just after Rajac reached the age of 18, he had come to the conclusion that his mastery of the first sub-grouping of the Ventros Sword Style was complete. With a solemn look out into the clearing that had become his training ground, he turned back towards the farm to tell his family his intentions. It was only a short walk back to the main house and with his heart as cold as ice he opened the weather-worn wooden door to his family¡¯s modest home. As he entered the living area, he saw his father sitting in an iron-clawed chair carving while his mother sat with Nisa in her lap sewing one of Rajac¡¯s old training shirts. He could tell by the numerous holes in the front and back of the shirt. ¡°Father, mother.¡± Rajac addressed them as he entered. ¡°Rajac?¡± Aiken said surprised, looking up from his carving. A small pile of wood shavings lay littered near his feet. ¡°You finished your training early today.¡± After a second when Rajac said nothing, his father looked alarmed. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Is something wrong?¡± ¡°Rajac¡­Rajac¡± Nisa called from his mother¡¯s lap. She was half-asleep and was holding her arms out as if wanting for him to carry her. Almost five, Nisa was still young enough where she would know something was wrong but not yet unable to understand it. So, Rajac ignored her calls, letting her remain asleep, and said to his father, ¡°I¡¯ve decided it¡¯s time I look for the rest of our race father.¡± Aiken flicked his eyes towards where Rajac¡¯s mother and Nisa sat. ¡°Tai, is this the first you¡¯ve heard of this.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Tai Rashak said. She was a quiet woman; though, when she spoke, others could not help but listen. There was a gravity to her voice that could quiet crowds, entice lovers, and even enflame soldiers. ¡°But I think this has been on his mind for some time. You¡¯ve seen the way he has been acting. Usually he has that silly grin on his face when he goes off to train, but recently, he¡¯s been quiet solemn as he leaves every day.¡± Rajac was surprised his mother saw so much. Even Rajac had not known that he¡¯d changed that much. ¡°Rajac,¡± his father sighed, placing his carving knife on the wooden floor gently, ¡°You aren¡¯t ready. It¡¯s dangerous outside the valley. You¡¯re what? Only 18. You¡¯re still too young. Wait a few more years and then go search. If there are any of our race out there in the world, they will still be there in a couple years.¡± ¡°Father,¡± Rajac said softly. He knew his father would attempt this course of action upon him; however, Rajac had made up his mind. ¡°I¡¯ve already mastered the first two forms of the Ventros Sword Style. They are both strong. I¡¯ve seen the travelers who have entered the valley from time to time and by judging their strength I believe I am equals with most of them.¡± ¡°But you said that the Ventros Sword Style requires magic which you cannot use.¡± There was a question in his father¡¯s statement but Rajac had no wish to answer it. He had told his parents about Thron and the gift of the sword but not about the magic qualities of the Sadat imbedded in it¡¯s pommel. Like his Client status, his attempts at practicing magic had become a topic that was rarely discussed in the Rashak household. Rajac, not wanting to invoke his father¡¯s wrath, neglected to tell both of his parents that he had successful interwoven elemental magic into his forms. Therefore, Rajac remained silent as his father continued to look at him questioningly. ¡°But since you can¡¯t,¡± Aiken continued, ¡°you¡¯ll be much weaker than many who live outside this valley.¡± ¡°Father,¡± Rajac said firmly, ¡°I already told you I am their equal.¡± While it was the truth, without his magic, he was their lesser. But he had magic, thus, Rajac was their equal. While Rajac had lied by omitting all the relevant facts, he believed it was necessary; therefore, he felt only a small portion of guilt for deceiving his father. If he wasn¡¯t so stubborn, Rajac thought. But no, Aiken Rashak would always be the same man and if he knew Rajac had been using magic behind his back, there would be no way he would ever let Rajac leave. ¡°Rajac, when you leave, you must remember to return soon. Otherwise, Nisa will grow up without her big brother.¡± Tai Rashak said a warm smile on her lips. ¡°Mother?¡± Rajac said surprised just as Rajac¡¯s father hissed ¡°Tai!¡± in a hoarse whisper. Both were shocked that she came down on Rajac¡¯s side. Usually, she agreed with his father on most everything. ¡°Of course. We all knew this day would come.¡± She said in a matter-of-fact manner, all the while, a small smile played on her lips. ¡°Your father just wanted to postpone it as long as possible; however, I am more pragmatic than he.¡± Tai shot Aiken a playful look which he returned with a flabbergasted one. ¡°But what about his strength? Without magic he is weaker than many of the races in the world!¡± Aiken said exasperated. ¡°If Rajac says he is strong enough, I believe him. Now, I expect a proper goodbye before you leave.¡± Tai said as she turned to Rajac, ignoring slackjawed Aiken. ¡°We will all have to prepare for your departure, so don¡¯t plan to run off too soon.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± Rajac said, nodding his head in acquiesce. ¡°Thank you, mother, father.¡± Rajac said softly; however, his heart was already beating a thousand times a minute as he turned from the room, already preparing to pack his things.
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1.1.7: Descent from Creva Mountain Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 7 AUTHOR''S NOTE This will probably be the last chapter for a few days.
20 R.E. Rajac spent most of the next week finishing up many of the long-term chores that he had put off during the spring. He bundled the wheat for winter storage, neutered the more aggressive cattle, and sheared the sheep. Intermittently, Rajac had heartfelt goodbyes with every member of his family. His father had finally come to terms that he was leaving and gave him an old leather vest that looked as if it had been sitting in storage for decades. But Rajac was grateful all the same. In their little valley, leather was a precious commodity. To hand a large quantity to him so casually, it was a fabulous gift. His mother did not gift him anything, instead, she sat and talked with him for a long time. It reminded him somewhat of the times he spoke with Grandfather Yorin. Nisa, on the other hand, she refused to even speak to him. He had tried, multiple times, to speak to her about his impending departure. But, throughout the week, every time Nisa saw him, she left the room, either stone-faced or tear-streaked, saying nothing. On the day of his departure, Rajac tried one final time to say goodbye to her. ¡°Nisa,¡± Rajac said as he knocked on her door. There was no response. He knocked louder. ¡°Nisa, don¡¯t do this.¡± Rajac said softly, a twinge of sadness in his voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know when I¡¯ll be back. Please.¡± A note of desperation entered his voice and there was still no answer. After waiting a long moment and hearing only silence, Rajac reluctantly backed away from the door, hefting his small pack and walked out into the yard where his mother and father were waiting with mixtures of apprehension and sadness on their faces. ¡°She won¡¯t speak to you, will she?¡± Tai said solemnly. ¡°No.¡± Rajac said softly. ¡°I think she received her stubbornness from you father.¡± Aiken laughed, a bitter note in his voice. ¡°She will regret this later, have no doubt about that.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t father. I¡¯ll try to visit as soon as possible but¡­¡± Rajac shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°I do not know how far I will travel.¡± ¡°Send letters then if you are gone more than a year. Just so we know you are alive?¡± His mother said. Rajac nodded mutely, emotion clogging his throat. Tai hugged her son, her arms only wrapping around to the small of his back. Fiercely, he returned the hug, moisture welling in his eyes. ¡°What about the chores? The farm? Who will take my share?¡± It was ludicrous that he had not thought of this problem before but in the final days before he left, all of his thoughts were directed towards his family and not any of the problems his leaving would cause them. ¡°We¡¯ve already worked it out.¡± Aiken said calmly. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry.¡± Rajac removed himself gently from his mother¡¯s hug and walked over to grip his father¡¯s hand firmly. ¡°We¡¯ll miss you.¡± ¡°And I, you.¡± Rajac briefly hugged his father with one-arm before walking, his back straight, out of the valley. His only regret was not being able to say goodbye to Nisa. ~ Nisa Rashak spent the week before her brother left, cloistered in her small room. When her brother had come in early that day from training, she thought it a treat. He would have time to play with her! Rajac rarely did, he was always out in the fields working or training. But, that day had been different. Rajac said he was leaving. By the way mommy and daddy spoke of it, he would not be back for a long time, if ever. They seemed to think it was done deal. But Nisa refused to accept it. However, as the days passed and nothing changed, her heart began to break into splinters. Every time she saw her big brother, she felt either a boiling rage or an incredible sadness. How dare he abandon the family! How dare he abandon her! When he tried, that final day, to say goodbye, she almost went outside to say goodbye to him, yet, her pride would not allow her. As her brother listened at the door for her response to his knocking, she stuffed her sheets in her mouth and cried silently, laughing at the fool she was. For the rest of the day she stayed in her room, abjectly hating what she had done. It was a very long time before she could even begin to try to forgive herself. ~ As Rajac stepped outside of the valley, he felt a loosening of his muscles. The shackles that had chained him to this valley for eighteen years had finally been loosened. While he would always return, he was no longer restricted the bright-green landscape. For the next few hours, Rajac slowly made his way down Creva Mountain. There was no path, so he had to pick his way between clusters of trees and piles of brush littering the expanse below. All that day, Rajac saw no living creature larger than a deer. With the reputation of the Western Territories as a dangerous place, he was surprised he had seen none of the dangers many spoke of. That night, he camped on the mountainside, taking out a variety of food-stuffs from his pack that included salted meats, fruits, and vegetables. By his estimation, he should have enough food to last until he reached Gerosh. Rajac had considered traveling to Azor first, as his aunt and uncle had; however, Azor was in the middle of a war with it¡¯s southern neighbor, the kingdom of Mushan, and while he feared for his aunt and uncle¡¯s safety, Rajac did not want to become embroiled in any war at the moment. His primary goal was to find the rest of the Ventros race and a war was not the place to begin. Over the next few days, Rajac slowly made his way down the mountain, always remaining on guard for the evident dangers that lurked within this region. A hand always rested upon his sword but he never had to draw it. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. It was two weeks before he finally felt the ground leveling out. Long ago, the towering oaks that had interrupted his vision of the bright, blue sky had turned into medium-sized ferns. As the ground leveled out, Rajac had finally left Creva Mountain. A sound of rushing water met his ears as he continued to walk through the trees. As his water skins were near empty, Rajac decided it would be the perfect time to refill them. Ducking under a few trees, Rajac stumbled slightly as he slipped in the muddy bank next to a small creek dividing the flat landscape as far as the eye could see. Setting his pack on the ground on a small outcropping of rock nestled into the side of the bank, Rajac took out several of his water skins and began to fill them with copious amounts of the clear liquid. Just as he was fastening his pack, Rajac heard a rustling from within the trees. Wary, but not paranoid, Rajac did not immediately jump back into the Cadence. Though, he did rest a hand on his short-sword. As he waited for whatever made the noises to appear, he began to breathe slowly through his nose, exhaling out of his mouth. Would this be his introduction to the Western Territories? A manling walked out of the trees, a water-skin in hand, and a pack on his shoulder. Rajac stared at him in confusion for a moment as he looked like a man but clearly was not. His eyes were set into the sides of his head where a man¡¯s temples should be while his face was more egg-shaped like than ovular. ¡°Greetings.¡± Rajac said, a note of confusion still in his voice. The manling jumped back, clearly ready to attack anything the made a sound. ¡°Who are you?¡± He snarled. ¡°Why?¡± Rajac said curiously. This was the Western Territories after all. There was little chance he would give away any hints as to who he was or his race here. It was different with the adventurers who traversed to their valley, however. One would have to be exceptionally lucky or strong to make it that far. His family was so far beneath their concerns that they felt mostly safe when conversing with those men. Some even traded with Rajac and his family, procuring bundles of food in exchange for a small amount of coins, a portion of which, Rajac had stuffed in his travel pack. However, near the edge of the Western Territories, it was a different story. Bandits, criminals, and hordes of monsters stalked the forests battling for territory and searching for easy prey. ¡°This is my creek!¡± The manling snarled. ¡°I claimed it. It¡¯s mine! Don¡¯t touch it!¡± The manling rasped out every word. When the manling saw Rajac¡¯s water skin, he cursed loudly. ¡°You maggot-infested sack of shit! Pour that water out now!¡± Rajac raised an eyebrow. This manling was certainly an interesting creature. He didn¡¯t seem all that dangerous. Though, to make sure, he willed his Sadat to scan the manling for magical energy. None whatsoever. Rajac smiled. This manling posed no threat to him at all without magic. ¡°I need this water.¡± Rajac said, trying not to chuckle, ¡°But you can take the rest.¡± Expanding his arms, he shouted, ¡°Look at all this water.¡± The manling growled, clearly unhappy with the terms Rajac proposed. ¡°Drop the water or I¡¯ll make you drop it.¡± Rajac declined. He had wanted to try his forms out on a living person. Practicing on trees was fun and all, but when they did not strike back, it became tedious to have them as opponents. ¡°Come at me then,¡± Rajac said, drawing his short-sword, the Sadat glinting in the sunlight. The manling growled and jumped down into the bank, surprisingly keeping his footing. He drew a long saber with a bright-blue tip. ¡°Ahhrgh.¡± The manling growled as he slashed at Rajac¡¯s still form. As he took the first step of the Cadence, Rajac decided not use his elemental magic versus this manling. Even the manling¡¯s sword technique was abysmal, with magic, it would not even make it a fight. Annoyed, Rajac took the second step of the Cadence, circumventing a wild blow from the manling. This was no fun at all. His mood souring fast, Rajac took the first step in Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, flicking his blade up through the sword arm of the manling. With a spurt of blood, the manling¡¯s arm flew into the creek with a splash. Howling in pain, the manling fell to his knees clutching his bloody stump. Rajac kicked the manling over onto his back, leveling his sword just an inch from the manling¡¯s face. ¡°Be lucky I left you alive today, my friend.¡± Rajac growled. This was no fight. It was a master-in-training versus an amateur. How pathetic. Hefting his pack onto his shoulder, Rajac sheathed his short sword, walked over to the creek, and picked up the manling¡¯s saber. He rather liked the look of it. The blue metal on the end of the sword was rather fascinating to look at. Furthermore, it was always useful to have a spare sword. Slapping the flat of the blade against his shoulder, Rajac turned back to the manling, still huddled on the ground, ¡°I¡¯ll take this as the price for my victory. For whatever that¡¯s worth.¡± Rajac ended with a sigh. Truly, Rajac¡¯s introduction to the Western Territories left a lot to be desired. Was this truly the wild and barbarous region on the Vashin Continent? Rajac shook his head, disbelievingly at the weakness of the mangling and, once again, began to trek through the forest.
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1.1.8: Thrensford Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 8 AUTHOR''S NOTE IF YOU WANT TO SKIP UNNECESSARY INFORMATION SKIP THIS PART Next chapter will reveal a lot of information. After that, I expect the Arc of Searching for the Ventros will commence. Expect it to last 10-15 chapters. Also, In case any of you were wondering, the reason the AI stated that there were 5 Ventros and their location was unknown was due to this. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Network_virtualization Mrs. Edwards acted as the collector of the information and as she did not look in the right location, she received a faulty answer. This will not be written in the story for some time as our MC is a bit of an idiot who acts before he thinks. Also, I hope to have the next chapter out by tonight. Peace, everyone.
February 13 ¨C March 20, 20 R.E. A wide, flat landscape percolated by tufts of short grass, yellow as corn, met Rajac as he exited the forest two days later. Rajac laughed to himself, pure relief written across his face. He had made it through the Western Territories unscathed. Surprisingly. He must have been lucky. Extremely lucky to escape without having a single serious fight. The manling, in Rajac¡¯s opinion, did not count. The relative tranquility of his journey troubled him, causing his paranoia to rise, all the while, slowing down his pace as he looked for the numerous traps that could be hidden in the dense underbrush in the forest. Yet, no attack came. At the same time it was a relief and another stress-inducer piled on everything else. Where were the monstrous beasts of the Western Territories? Surely, they had not left. Otherwise, why would thousands of adventures brave the region searching for glory and fame if there was nothing to find. And if there were no dangers, then why would only tens of those thousands return unscathed. Without a backward glance, Rajac quickly strode from the forest, aware of the menacing aura that remained behind him. Quickly, the flat grassland beyond the Western Territories turned into rolling hills lush with crops. Farmers tended their wares off in the distance as Rajac walked between their fields. He saw many different races working together as he passed farm after farm. Humans, Elves, and Zolat, a type of humanoid ice-spirit, were the most common among them. This was Gerosh, after all, an Elvish kingdom. They always had close relationships to humans, and Zolat, well, they were pretty much welcome anywhere as they were one of the few races that proliferated many experts who had the ability to use Auxiliary Magic. As Rajac continued throughout the day, the farms became closer and closer together, until, as he crested a rise, Rajac no longer saw farms. Instead, there was a concentric ring of cobbled stone, three men high, surrounding intermittently spaced wooden buildings. With a wide grin on his face, Rajac walked down the hill and towards the village. He had been wondering what civilization would look like in Thantos. A village would do as a nice starting point. Maybe they will have an Identity Merchant as well, he mused softly. ¡°Halt!¡± A gravelly voice boomed, startling Rajac who had become lost in his thoughts, wondering about the wonders that lay within the village. Rajac halted, directing his attention to a man, dressed all in black, standing by the awning that portioned the wall surrounding the village. If the man had not spoken, Rajac might never have seen him. It had grown dark long since and the man, half-way hidden behind the stone fortification, was basically invisible to the naked eye. The man walked out from his post, hand on the pommel of his sword, and a scowl on his face. ¡°Where have you come from?¡± The man asked, in a low growl. As suspicion darkened his eyes the man brushed his eyebrows together, squinting through the dark. Rajac was fairly certain the man was as blind as he was in the pitch-black of night and only saw him approach because he had actually been looking for travelers while Rajac had been caught unawares. ¡°To the west.¡± Rajac said simply. This man was most likely a local guard of some sort. So close to the Western Territories, the village must have decided to build a wall and establish a guard, if only for their own peace of mind. Although, Rajac thought it would do little to stop the monstrous beings that lived within the territories. Rajac himself believed he could hold up against one or two, but the hordes some said they roamed around in, Rajac shivered internally, only a true monster could combat that by himself. ¡°The west?¡± The guard said slowly. ¡°You came from the Western Territories?¡± ¡°Yes, is that a problem?¡± The guard halted halfway between the wall and where Rajac stood. ¡°You actually made it out of that horrid place alive?¡± The guard said, a note of disbelief in his voice. ¡°I was lucky. During my journey, I only met a member of a manling-type race.¡± Rajac said shrugging. He felt, as if, the animosity of the guard was lessening but not completely gone. ¡°Truly then. Kasor be praised, you were indeed lucky. You must have passed through during one of the ''Dukes'' seasonal wars. Else, you would have not survived." The guard said eyeing Rajac¡¯s thin, yet tall frame. His well sculpted muscles lay hidden beneath the layers of cotton he wore creating the appearance of a thin, but not necessarily weak, man to those who saw him. Rajac conceded the point to the guard, nodding succinctly. It would have been very unlikely that he would have been able to leave the Western Territories with his head on his shoulders if he met one of these ''duke''s'' armies. ¡°I thought you had come from Azor. We¡¯ve been having some trouble with some of the refugees that have arrived in the past few weeks.¡± The guard spat, a look of disgust on his face. ¡°I have family in Azor. Has the war gotten that bad?¡± Rajac asked. He was concerned that something might have happened to his aunt, uncle, and cousin. If they perished, it further increased the possibility his race would be destroyed before he even had a chance to save it. ¡°No.¡± The guard said, shaking his head. ¡°Some honest folk made their way here before the war even began but they aren¡¯t the problem. Deserters have infiltrated their numbers creating a whole number of incidents in the few days they stayed in our village before we gave them the boot. One of them even murdered our tavern owner ¡®cause Balor wouldn¡¯t let him leave without paying.¡± ¡°I am no deserter.¡± Rajac said harshly. He hated cowards who abandon their duties. In his past-life, he had gotten into a spot of trouble for literally dragging a private back to basecamp when he tried to desert right before deployment. The guard looked him straight in the eyes. ¡°No. I can see you¡¯re not.¡± Removing his hand from the pommel of his sword, the guard said, as he extended a hand, ¡°¡¯Names Harl. You¡¯re welcome in Thrensford, for now.¡± While Harl spoke calmly, Rajac could clearly tell the warning Harl inferred was not to be taken lightly. ¡°I¡¯m only passing though.¡± As he shook Harl¡¯s hand, Rajac asked, unable to keep an eager note out of his voice, ¡°Tell me, do you know if there is an Identity Merchant in Thrensford or one of the surrounding villages?¡± ¡°Aye. But we share her with many other villages in the region.¡± Harl said nodding. ¡°Gais [Gae¡¯ie¡¯es] won¡¯t be back in Thrensford until the end of the month.¡± Rajac felt his heart sink slightly. A whole month waiting for an Identity Merchant. He thought about just heading on to the nearest city but discarded that idea almost immediately. Identity Merchants were few and far between. From what he knew, they usually congregated in larger cities much like merchants of regular stock. So, it was a fair bet, Rajac would not find one until he reached the capitol, a six-month trek by foot from his current location. Sighing, Rajac came to the conclusion that staying here a month was his best option. An Identity Merchant could provide him with almost everything he needed. Maps, information, skill updates, and perhaps some clues as to where the Ventros might be. He could receive all that here in one-month¡¯s time. The only thing an Identity Merchant did not have was access to a Great Library. When Rajac had been researching the Renewal Eternal program what felt like millennia ago, he had read that each capital had a Great Library where millions-upon-millions of books were stored, most of them unique. I just hope I don¡¯t have to use a lot of money while stewing here. I don¡¯t have a lot to spend in the first place Rajac thought, grimacing to himself, as he jingled his coin-pouch. All his savings were in there. Six gold coins, three silver, and twenty-eight copper. ¡°Where can I find rooms to stay in while I¡¯m here?¡± Rajac said looking up at Harl. ¡°Just go to the tavern. You won¡¯t miss it at this time of night. Ask for Bella. Just don¡¯t mention her father.¡± Harl said gravely. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Her father? Rajac paused, trying to think of the reason. It came to him. The man who was murdered by the deserter from Azor. ¡°Right. I won¡¯t.¡± Rajac said nodding. ¡°Thanks for all your help.¡± Rajac, once again, shook hands with the guard and walked into the village, looking for the tavern. It was not hard to spot. As Rajac walked towards the center of the town, the wooden houses slowly diverged, widening the path every so often until the path became a square. One of the building in the square was lit with torches. There were so many, that the patrons inside were outlined as shadows on the outer-walls of the building. As he approached, he heard raucous laughter drifting away from the large tavern. Hefting his pack on one shoulder, Rajac silently pushed open the door. He did not want to make a scene in such a place if he was to stay here for a month. A few people stood by the door, tankards in their hands, chatting amiably. Rajac amiably excused himself and walked by them. Inside, the tavern was much as he would have pictured. It had a few shabbily crafted tables and the bar was more of a desk in the corner of the room, with a few barrels set on shelves behind it. The inhabitants, however, were not what Rajac expected. As he squeezed through them towards the bar, Rajac was sure he saw an Akiean in their midst. They usually didn¡¯t come this far west. There were also a few Fains; a bear-like race that had the ability to learn Cultivation Auxiliary Magic. Shaking his head in wonder, Rajac pulled a stool away from beneath the bar and sat down with a huff. A human woman stood on the other side of the bar, multitasking as she took orders while simultaneously preparing drinks. She had her blonde hair tied in a kerchief on top of her head and had a flush to her cheeks, making her green eyes stand out even more. Small freckles dusted her button nose suiting her young face perfectly. In short, she was breathtaking. ¡°What can I get you?¡± She said breathlessly, slamming into the bar with obvious exhaustion. A sheen of sweat dampened strands of hair as they began to cling to her pretty face. ¡°Beer. Your cheapest.¡± ¡°Three coppers.¡± She said without blinking an eye. Grumbling at the price, Rajac handed over the money and watched as she took a tankard from behind the bar and filled it from the barrel on the counter. As she clanged the tankard in front of him, a waft of the sweet scent of barely filled him with joy. It had been a long time since he had beer. Taking a swig of the stuff, he swirled the beer around in his mouth, attempting to taste all the beer at once. It was good. Really good. Bitter, with a hint of cinnamon. ¡°Who made this?¡± Rajac asked curiously once the woman came over his way again. The woman looked at Rajac then, a steely glint in her eyes, frowning. After a second, the look was gone. Turning from Rajac, her head bowed, she said, almost under her breath, ¡°My father.¡± A light suddenly popped on in Rajac¡¯s head. ¡°Are you Bella?¡± He blurted out without thinking. Immediately though, he regretted saying anything. ¡°Sorry¡­It was just Harl said come find you at the tavern and ahh¡­¡± He knew he shouldn¡¯t have said anything. Of course, he would be the idiot who announced to her that he recognized who she was because of the obvious grief she showed when talking about her father. ¡°It¡¯s no matter. The whole village has been talking about nothing else for months. Why did Harl send you here?¡± Bella said. There was still a hint of anger in her eyes but it was easily overwhelmed by curiosity. ¡°He said this was a good place to stay.¡± Rajac said. ¡°It is the only place to stay.¡± Bella laughed softly, a warmth coming to her eyes. ¡°How long do you plan to stay?¡± Rajac shrugged. ¡°A month or so.¡± ¡°Ok. Give me a minute.¡± Bella turned and walked through the doorway behind the bar. After a minute, she returned with a small piece of parchment in her hand. Without preamble, Bella said business-like, all hints of her earlier anger gone from her face, ¡°We have a room on the third-floor for five silver a night.¡± Rajac opened his mouth, too shocked to say anything. ¡°You want me to spend enough silver to buy a good bow each night?¡± Rajac finally said. He couldn¡¯t keep the anger from his voice as he spoke. This place was trying to rip him off and the little money he had, would not last throughout his journey if he had to spend it all here. Bella shrugged, indifferent. ¡°This is one of the few places to stop before entering the Western Territories. Many hopeful adventurers coming from Gerosh, the Forests of Lethania, and the Empire of Tavinor, stop through here on their journey. We are usually fully booked but you were lucky that one of our guests left this very night and a room opened up.¡± Rajac settled back down, his anger subsiding. At least there was a reason for the high prices. She wasn¡¯t just trying to rip him off. He was still annoyed though as he handed over five silver for the night which she wordlessly accepted. Even though he felt annoyed for the high price, he could not help but feel enamored with the girl behind the bar. In attempt to draw her into a conversation, Rajac pointed over to the few Fains happily downing their tankards, terrifying a serving girl when they let out a chorus of deep-rumbling laughter. ¡°Is that why they are here? To be adventurers?¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± Bella shrugged. ¡°They could be headed to Azor to fight in the war or they could just be wanderers. Their kind don¡¯t tend to lay down roots.¡± Tilting her head in speculation, she looked closely at Rajac, squinting her eyes as if to see him better. ¡°What kind of race are you? I¡¯ve never seen anything like you before?¡± Her eyes lingered on his horns for a long moment. Rajac shrugged, trying to appear uninterested in the question. He could not tell her the truth, of course. But, he had not, as of yet, come up with a good cover story when someone asked him that question. She took his shrug as an answer in itself though. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± There was a look of pity on her face now as she reached out, gripping her hand in his. ¡°You know,¡± Bella said leaning across the bar, ¡°We have an Identity Merchant who comes here often. She¡¯ll be here sometime in the next month. If you¡¯re still here, you could ask to see her. She could tell you you¡¯re race. If you¡¯re willing that is.¡± There was a hint of a blush crossing her face as she looked across the bar at him. Rajac smiled to himself. This played out rather nicely. ¡°I¡¯m actually in town for that very reason.¡± Rajac said as if admitting a great secret. Bella smiled gently. ¡°You¡¯ll love Gais, she¡­¡± A customer called her over asking for a refill. She turned back to Rajac, telling him she would be back in a moment and she bustled off taking the customer¡¯s order, a cheerful smile on her face. In the blink of an eye, a month passed. In the morning Rajac would train in his room alone. He ignored the last two forms for now. He had achieved a level of understanding to the point where he knew that his dexterity and footwork were nowhere near the level they needed to be to even try to complete those forms. So, instead, he refined the first sub-group of the Ventros Sword Style. He had come to call it the Unbroken Dance after both its attacking and defensive qualities. Every day he practiced this form, slightly altering a thrust here and there while working on centering his balance on every step. In the afternoons, however, Rajac spent most of his time with Bella. Over the weeks, he got to know her rather well and lamented the day when Gais would arrive in Thrensford. That day finally came, one afternoon, more than five weeks after Rajac had arrived in the village. He had become rather content with his life. Practice in the mornings and talking with Bella in the afternoons. But good things don¡¯t last forever. As Rajac was sitting at the bar, casually talking with Bella, Bella¡¯s eyes suddenly diverted from his as she looked over his shoulder, an air of excitement about her person. ¡°Gais your back!¡± She called excitedly. A mixture of eagerness and regret entered Rajac as he knew his time in Thrensford was over. Setting his tankard down, he turned to the thin woman who stood in the doorway, a satchel slung across her chest. Gravely, Rajac stated, making his intentions clear, ¡°Mistress Gais, I would like to use your services as an Identity Merchant.¡±
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1.1.9: The Identity Merchant Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 9 AUTHOR''S NOTE This is the second chapter of the day. I think I will have a standard schedule each week. One chapter each wednesday and friday night. All other chapters that I write will come at random times during the week when I am free. If I am busy, you guys will get the standard chapter wednesday and friday night. Thanks for reading.
March 20, 20 R.E. Gais adopted an annoyed expression on her face as she fielded Rajac¡¯s statement. ¡°Not in town five minutes and I¡¯m already hounded by the locals.¡± Bella moved from behind the bar and gathered the woman in her arms, squeezing tightly. ¡°I missed you.¡± Bella said warmly. ¡°And, I you.¡± Gais said, an expression of warmth on her face. She was not an old woman, yet she could not be considered to still hold her maiden-hood. A few grey strands here and there gave proof to her age while her unlined face defied it. Pushing back from Gais, Bella said, an exited tone in her voice. ¡°How have you been? It¡¯s been ages hasn¡¯t it? Where did you go? What was it like?¡± She fired all these questions off rapidly like she was an eager child. ¡°Numerous places. Too many to count.¡± Gais said, a small quirk to her lips. ¡°But that can wait another time. I hear that I have a customer waiting for my expertise.¡± Gais shot Rajac a dark look. ¡°Please don¡¯t be too hard on him Gais. He¡¯s been waiting a whole month for you.¡± Bella said, a note of sympathy in her voice. ¡°A month?¡± Gais raised an eyebrow. ¡°No one ever waits that long.¡± Rajac shrugged as if it wasn¡¯t a big deal. Though, a large part of the reason he remained had been Bella¡¯s company. He silently admitted to himself that he would have let his impatience win out and made the long-trek to the capital long ago if it wasn¡¯t for Bella. ¡°It¡¯s hard to find an Identity Merchant all the way out here.¡± Rajac said simply. ¡°Ha!¡± Gais let out a laugh. ¡°That it is my boy.¡± As she sized him up, she lingered on his horns only a second longer than she needed to. ¡°Those are curious appendages, my friend¡­¡± Gais said, her head tilted up. ¡°Rajac.¡± Bella interjected softly. ¡°Rajac¡­¡± Gais paused. ¡°Tell me, why have you sought my services?¡± ¡°I¡¯m looking for the rest of my race.¡± Rajac said. ¡°Indeed.¡± Gais put a finger on her lips as if thinking hard. ¡°Hmm. Wait here for a moment.¡± Turning to Bella, she asked, placing a hand on Bella¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Bella dear, can I use the back room with our friend here for a little while. I think we might need some privacy.¡± Bella flushed slightly at her words but nodded and said, ¡°Of course, Gais.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Rajac said confused. ¡°What about payment.¡± Gais waved her hand flippantly. ¡°It¡¯s no matter. Usually it¡¯s about one gold for what you want to know but I¡¯m too curious about the answer to rightfully charge you.¡± Nodding, Gais, walked out the door without another word. Rajac and Bella stood awkwardly in the tavern hall for a long moment as they waited anxiously for Gais¡¯ return. It took longer than expected, but when she returned, Gais was carrying a huge leather bag in her small arms. It was evident that it was extremely heavy. Every step she took was emphasized by an long exhalation of breath. Rajac hurriedly got up from his seat and took the bag from Gais. ¡°Careful! Careful!¡± She screeched. ¡°Don¡¯t drop it!¡± Rajac nearly did as he heaved it onto his shoulder and walked, stooped, into the backroom behind the bar. Carefully, he set the large leather bag on the ground and let out a sigh. Gais walked in, whipping a sheen of sweat from her brow. ¡°Remind me, next time, to not carry everything in one bag.¡± Rajac did not know what to say to that as he stared at the woman blankly. It was clear that Gais was more than just a little eccentric. It took a few minutes before they got settled in. Bella had to fetch a few chairs from the floor of the tavern and it took more than a little while before Gais was unable to organize her disheveled items on the table. After nearly half-an-hour, Gais had set up her makeshift shop in the back of the tavern. The door had been firmly shut against eavesdroppers, mostly Bella, whom, it was clear, wanted to listen to what Gais would tell Rajac. After Gais told Bella for the third time that it was a private matter and she had her job to do, Bella turned back to the bar and once again began to serve drinks, sulking quietly. ¡°Right,¡± Gais said, as she sat with a huff. ¡°This process is rather simple.¡± Nodding her head to the table in front of them, she said tonelessly, ¡°There are three parts to an Identification. Firstly, I scan your spirit and copy its contents here.¡± She pointed to a leather-bound book filled with countless pages.¡± ¡°What are all the pages for? Don¡¯t you just need one?¡± Rajac said, offhandedly. She gave him a strange look and said disdainfully, ¡°Fool. Do you think a person¡¯s life can fit to a single page?¡± As he was about to respond heatedly, she continued, ignoring the obvious apoplexy written on Rajac¡¯s face. ¡°Secondly, I copy your quest-related goals here.¡± She pointed to a smaller notebook. ¡°You know I¡¯m a Client?¡± Rajac said slowly, too shocked to say anything. He always kept his ouroboros hidden. Ever since his parents made their feelings clear about the matter, Rajac never revealed the tattoo. Gais blinked slowly. ¡°You¡¯re a Client. This makes things even more interesting.¡± There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes as she spoke. ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± Rajac felt like his world was spinning out of control. ¡°Everyone can get quests then¡­¡± He trailed off slowly. ¡°Of course!¡± Gais snapped. ¡°Clients aren¡¯t special no matter what the Order of the Circle would have you believe.¡± ¡°The who?¡± Rajac said confused. There was too many ideas being thrown at him and not everyone was sticking. ¡°Never mind¡±, Gais said waving her hand. ¡°They¡¯re not important.¡± Taking a deep-breath, she said slowly, a hint of danger in her eyes, ¡°Be wary of who you tell about your status. Few like Clients these days. Not many have met one in this part of the world, so you are lucky there. Bella seems to have taken a liking to you, I think it would be better if you didn¡¯t tell her. Blabbing to me was bad enough, but I don¡¯t think she could take it. You two live in different worlds.¡± Rajac could only agree with her. He was on the cusp of immortality while she had a scant few-dozen years to live. It could cause some tension with the locals. Greed, for the most part. The last vestiges of hope that he might, one day in the future, be able to return here were gone now. He nodded, a sad smile crossing his lips. ¡°Aye. I understand.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Gais said softly. ¡°Now that¡¯s settled, I¡¯ll tell you about the third part of the Identification. In your case, it involves a great deal of consultation with many different elements of our magic. While you¡¯re perusing the first two parts of the Identification process, I will work on the third part.¡± Rajac nodded, accepting the explanation. ¡°Then, shall we begin?¡± Gais asked, raising the sleeves of her tunic to her elbow. Without asking permission, she grabbed Rajac¡¯s hand and twisted it palm up. She snapped her fingers causing a blindingly hot flash of pain that traveled up Rajac¡¯s arm causing him to groan slightly with the discomfort. ¡°The first time is always the hardest.¡± Gais muttered as she twirled her fingers around, manipulating them as if she was stretching a rubber band. Opening the leather bound book with her passive hand, she placed her active hand on the first page, palm down. Black ink slowly flowed from her fingertips and into the book. At first, it looked as if the whole page had become black but, overtime, white spots began to appear in the page until all that remained were a few strains of the black-ink, forming plainly written words. Rajac opened his jaw utterly confused by what he saw. ¡°How¡­how did you do that?¡± He said, his eyebrows raised straight into his forehead. ¡°Tertiary Magic.¡± Gais grunted as she lifted the bound tome, handing it to Rajac. ¡°Not directly related to the elements, but a part of them nevertheless. This form was made by our Goddess, Thalia, and passed down through our Order.¡± Interesting, Rajac thought. Is it possible for people other than Gods to make such magic? He would have to investigate this later; however, he did not think it would be appropriate to Gais. He had already stuck his foot in his mouth enough for one day. As Gais began to work on the second tome, Rajac opened the first one. The first page read
Rajac Rashak
Ventros Male
Height6¡¯3¡±Average Weight170 lbs.
Strength60Wisdom30
Stamina80Luck-15
Diplomacy15Dexterity200
Sub-Skills:
Technology5GrowthExp.
Faith15
Special Characteristics:
Dexterity Grows at 6 times Normal Rate
Strength Grows at .25 times Normal Rate
Wisdom Grows at 2 times Normal Rate
Earth Elemental Affinity +50%
Fire Elemental Affinity +50%
Luck <= 0
Technology <= 5 unless the requirements below are met
If a Client reaches level 100, he has the ability to create a a new Auxilliary Element. The Client will have +50% Affinity with the Auxiliary Elment. The skill will not be removed or reduced when the Client dies. The Client can share the Auxiliary Element with other races. If the Client chooses this path, Diplomacy growth * 5 and Technology growth * 3 until death.
Ventros are one of the many minor races within Thantos. At present, they number 8 on Thantos. In the past, they produced many champions of the sword; however, that was long ago. It is doubtful if any in their rank remember the old ways. Their present location is currently known only by their race.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. This was the same information he had seen long ago before he had even chosen the Ventros Race. A few things were different however. Foremost, he noticed the last line changed slightly. There were now eight Ventros on Thantos. Did that mean the Ventros were somewhere else? It also looked as if all his core stats rose except his luck. He stumped his brain, trying to figure out how that happened. When nothing came to him, he flipped to the next page.
Skills Gained:
Born An Idiot: The Client has chosen a race with a very limited population. He is a true idiot. Effect: Wisdom growth is halved, New Skill Creation: Perseverance, New Skill Creation: Maturation
Maturation: It takes time for the Client to act like an adult. Effect: Wisdom is <=5 before the age of 14
Perseverance: The Client has chosen to fight for the underdog. Effect: New Skill Creation: Honor
Honor: A double-edged sword in the best of times, the Client defends the weak and fights evil wherever he sees it. Effect: +5 to Faith
Merciful: The Client has shown mercy to an enemy in the midst of battle. Effect: 2% discount on all products and services
Ventros Sword Style: [Information Hidden] 35% Mastery. Effect: New Skill Creation: Footwork, New Skill Creation: Sword Mastery, New Skill Creation: Defence, New Skill Creation: Muscle Memory
Footwork: The Client had strived to maintain strong and quick legs. 30% Mastery. Effect: Mastery * dexterity growth + dexterity growth
Sword Mastery: The Client had felt the grip of steel in his hand. Whether he decides to protect his friends or smite his enemies, the choice is up to him. 40% Mastery. Effect: No Extra Effect
Defence: The Client has learned to shield his back. 40% Mastery. Effect: Health Increased by [Information Hidden].
Muscle Memory: The Client has repeated movements countless times. Effect: The skills Ventros Sword Sytle, Sword Mastery, Defence, and Footwork will not be forgotten or reduced after death.
Rajac looked down at the second page with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. Born an Idiot. He snorted. The program was laughing at him for choosing such a diminished race. It even created the Maturation skill. Was that why he was such a child growing up? God above, this thing was even messing with his mind now. He would have to punch the creator in his face once of these days. Annoyed, he looked down at the rest of the skills on the page. Muscle Memory. At least, there was one good skill. His knowledge and the ability to the Ventros Sword Style would never go away. Chuckling to himself, he realized that if that had not been the case, he would have been ceaselessly training the same skills for millennia, never getting anywhere. He absently flipped through the rest of the tome. There were some interesting skills likeIgnorant: The Client has lived in seclusion too long. He does not know the basic facts a child in Thantos knows. Effect: He will get slapped more often.And,Ambitious: The Client knows no bounds. He will strive for greatness. Effect: Royalty will not like him unless they are of his Race.But generally, there were just the myopic skills anyone could pick up during an eighteen-year span. After a time, he grew bored of reading the trivialities of his life repeated to him and he turned to the second tome, which Gais had long since finished with. It appeared she had, for a long time, been working on the third part of the Identification process. She was up and bustling around, rummaging through her bag and muttering to herself every so often. Surrounding her, were piles and piles of books, scattered here and there as she threw one every so often out of her bag, a peeved expression on her face. Rajac thought it best not to bother her at the moment and reached over the table to open the second tome. He was surprised at how light it was compared to the first tome. Curious, Rajac flipped through the tome, expecting it to be filled with black ink; however, what met him was blank pages. The only page that had any ink at all was the first page and it was only half-full. It seems I have received very few quests in my life, Rajac thought dryly. As acid thoughts began to toss around in his mind, he looked down at the single page.
Quests:
Completed:
Complete Daily Chores while living on Cera Mountain. Effect: The love of your family
In Progress:
Write Home Once A Year. Result if Successful: The continued love of your family. Result if Unsuccesful: Anger of your family.
Find the remaining members of the Ventros Race: Result if Successful: [Information Hidden]. Result if Unsuccessful: [Information Hidden]
Master the Ventros Sword Style. Result if Successful: The Client will be one of the best swordsman on the Continent and [Information Hidden]. Result if Unsuccessful: The skill Muscle Memory will be lost in the next life.
Well, that certainly is interesting. Apparently, there was a lot of information the program wanted to keep hidden. Rajac closed the tome with a snap. There was little information he could gleam from it as most of the result were hidden from him. Though, the quest about writing home irked him slightly. It was a little too personal to summarize on a sheet of paper. ¡°Gais,¡± Rajac said, leaning back in his chair, ¡°Are you nearly done?¡± She had been standing over the table, a book in either hand, her eyes moving up and down each page feverishly. She looked up distractedly. ¡°Yes, Yes. Almost there.¡± She said, annoyed, and buried her head back down in her book. He sat there another hour as she poured over books and muttered to herself. ¡°Gahhh!¡± She screamed out loud. Rajac jumped in his seat. He had been dozing quietly for the past few minutes and her sudden shout woke him abruptly. ¡°It¡¯s not here! That¡¯s impossible!¡± Gais screamed almost incoherent in her rage. With a groan, she slumped down in her seat, burying her head in her hands. ¡°Gais?¡± Rajac said, looking at her concerned. Slowly, she raised her head. There was a manic look in her eyes as she said, troubled, ¡°It¡¯s not here. The Ventros¡­wherever they are¡­are not in my books. I¡­I have never failed before. It¡¯s clear they are still alive¡­but some ¡­ force is blocking me.¡± ¡°Force? What kind of force?¡± His concern with her well-being flew out the window at the mention of the Ventros¡¯ state. There were still some out there! ¡°I don¡¯t know¡±, she said shaking her head. ¡°I am sorry. Truly, I am. I wanted to know the answer to your question as badly as you. A race hidden from the world¡­¡± She sighed, shaking her head. ¡°But, it appears, I was not good enough.¡± ¡°But here,¡± She tore off a scrap piece of paper from a loose peace of parchment and wrote hurriedly. ¡°Go to Alberon. He¡¯s in the capital of Gerosh. He will be of better help than I. Tell him I sent you.¡± Rajac groaned inwardly. Even though he tried to avoid it, it looked as if he would be heading to the capital anyways. Such was his luck.
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1.2.1: The Road Goes Ever On Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 1 AUTHOR''S NOTE This is the start of the first real arc as the last few chapters have mostly been about training and information. Arc 1: Searching For the Ventros First Chapter
March 20 ¨C August 12 R.E Rajac sat, legs clenched tightly together, as he rode his donkey down the dusty road. His departure from Thrensford was all but peaceful as Gais practically pushed him out of town, giving him her donkey in the process. It was Rajac¡¯s opinion, that Gais was more scared about the ¡®force¡¯ that impeded here ability to find his race than she had let on. It also might be why she actually gave him the tomes instead of destroying them as Identity Merchants are required to do by their Order after each Identification. There was a simple reason for the destruction of their own efforts. Skills, Quests, and Levels updated frequently within the tomes displaying new information constantly to the owner, thus, making the purpose of an Identity Merchant moot; however, that was up until level 100. Gais didn¡¯t say what happened then as at that time though. A shame really. As he cantered along, Rajac opened his first tome from the pack tied to the donkey¡¯s saddle. Balancing the book against the back of the donkey, he skimmed through it until he found the page he was looking for.
Rajac Rashak
Ventros Male
Level42Experience26%
Health[Information Hidden]Magic[Information Hidden}
Sensitivity[Information Hidden]Heart Rate[Information Hidden]
Eye Sight[Information Hidden]Hearing[Information Hidden]
Potential[Information Hidden]Limitations[Information Hidden]
This was one of the strangest pages in the tome. It hardly had any available information and the information it did have, measured bizarre criteria that it, for some odd reason, kept hidden. The only useful bit of information was his level which was 42. Although, Rajac had no idea what that meant other than it was 58 levels to level 100 when he could choose an Auxiliary Magic and something would happen according to Gais. Still though, he had no idea how he gained his levels and no idea how to gain more. Frankly, all he could come up with that gave him levels was the intense training he went through each day. But did that give him levels? He knew it increased his skills but his level? He wasn¡¯t so sure. Shrugging off the discomforting feeling, Rajac stored the tome away in his pack and rode on. As he read, the dusty road had turned into a muddy expanse littered on either side by tall grass doused in a spring rain. Dragonflies swarmed around him, buzzing in their indistinct and oddly comforting language. For a time, he listened to their mellowing harmony as he rode straight through the day and into the night. The first night, he camped under a willow tree, its awning branches giving him a covering against the light drizzle that had begun to fall form the clouds above. He slept soundlessly. Not even the howling of the hyenas in the surrounding hills could wake his slumber. Rajac continued to read his tomes as he traveled. It was only due to an effort to stave-off boredom that he even cracked them again. There was nothing new to gleam from them and by the third month of the journey he felt disgusted every time he looked at one of them. Instead, he brought out the Four Forms of the Ventros Sword Style and began to study that once again. It was practically impossible to improve his dexterity and footwork on this journey without inexorably slowing his pace to a crawl. Therefore, he forewent his training for the expediency, if one could call it that, of traveling on his donkey for the entire journey. The first tome claimed he had mastered 35% of the Ventros Sword Style. The program ascertained that he had mastered both the Cadence of Jin and Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, combining them into the Unbroken Dance. Yet, why was mastery at only 35%? The last two forms, the Delight of the Unknown and Truth of the Many, were a part of the second sub-group. Each should count just as much as the first two forms. And if he mastered the sub-group, then he would have 70% mastery of the form. Did combining the two sub-groups account for 30% of the style¡¯s mastery? Rajac¡¯s heart sank at that. How impossible would combining the two sub-groupings be? He shook his head while reading the book. That was far into the future. He still needed to greatly improve his footwork and dexterity if he even had a chance to master the whole style. Over the next few weeks, he continued to peruse his book as the fields began to turn into sloping hills of short grass. The muddy plains dried and the sun began to shine high overhead each day. Rajac had taken to wearing only a single, thin tunic that still made him sweat copiously. Nearly four-months into his six-month journey, Rajac was bent over his donkey, head hiding from the heat of the day. His mouth was parched dry. Every so often, he smacked his lips trying to form a small morsel of saliva he could quench his thirst with. Two days. Two days, he had been without water. All of his water-skins had long since dried out and the last source of clean water he passed was more than a week¡¯s ride back the other way. Groaning, he clenched the donkey¡¯s coarse fur, hugging himself to the creature even tighter. ¡°Oy!¡± What was that? Rajac was too tired to even raise his head. He had seen no one for weeks. The middle of Gerosh was like a wasteland. No one was allowed to live here as it was the king¡¯s own land. However, he allowed travelers to pass through it. Rajac thought he heard once that it was for some religious reason or something idiotic like that. The fact mattered to him little, even when he began his journey; however, he was now regretting not paying more attention to little details such as that one. Without people, there was no easy source of food or water. His journey had slowed in the last month as he had to forage for both in the wilderness, a time-consuming and sometimes hopeless task. His current predicament was a prime example of the latter. ¡°Oy!¡± Rajac jerked his head up wearily. ¡°Somat call me?¡± He said, his mouth too dry to work properly. A jarring sensation caused Rajac to keel over sideways, falling directly off his mount and into the grass below. Above him, he could hear the donkey screaming with pain. Shaking his head in confusion, Rajac stood, swaying slightly in the breeze, his shoulder aching from where he fell on it. Before him, stood two-dozen men and elves in armor plating situated on either side of the road. Each carried both a short sword and a small, ovular shield. Rajac was confused as he stared at the men. Most had grins on their faces and their swords were already drawn. ¡°Why are you impeding my journey?¡± Rajac said, placing a hand on the pommel of his short sword. An elf, in fine, chain linked armor, walked into the road, a smirk on his face. He was clean-shaven with a purple tint to his irises. ¡°There¡¯s a toll, my fair traveler.¡± The elf said condescendingly. ¡°1 gold.¡± The elf said beckoning with one hand. Rajac put a hand over his eyes rubbing them against his weariness. ¡°This is the king¡¯s land.¡± Rajac snorted. Highway robbers. Who would have thought he would meet them in the middle of nowhere. Usually, they stalked the entrances to villages and smaller cities. What would the point be to thieve from people all the way out here? ¡°Aye. He¡¯s got the truth of it.¡± The elf turned back to the other men. ¡°You here that? He knows his facts. This lad, here, is ¡®somat special. I tell you that.¡± The waiting men gave a chorus of mocking laughter, jeering at Rajac. It felt as if they were telling a joke they only knew, leaving Rajac deliberately out of the loop. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Rajac felt his blood grow hot as he flicked his eyes between the nearly two-dozen men and elves. There was little chance he would willingly hand over his money over to a handful of thieves. It would be no easy fight to face them all at once but it was possible. He hoped. His stomach fluttering, he drew his short sword. The elf in front of him narrowed his eyes and said, a disbelieving note in his voice, ¡°I don¡¯t believe this. Someone is actually going to fight us.¡± Rajac did not wait for him to say anything more and advanced with a quickstep into Martyr¡¯s Fallacy. In case and point, Rajac needed his money desperately. He only had five gold remaining after his stay in Thrensford and it was hardly likely he would come into a large sum of money to fund his inexorable journey across the continent. Losing one gold to these thieves was just too much to bear. He willed Fire Elemental Magic to travel across his sword and impale the elf in front of him. A streak of light soared from Rajac¡¯s sword and into the elf, a surprised grunt forming on his face, but it did not kill him. Rajac fell off-balance at the last moment due to his weariness. Damn, Rajac thought acidly, as he jumped over the downed elf and engaged the dozen highwaymen on the right side of the road. If I wasn¡¯t so weary, this wouldn¡¯t be so hard. Rajac turned into the Unbroken Dance, using both the Cadence of Jin and Martyr¡¯s Fallacy concurrently. Throwing up a wall of earth, Rajac instantly heard half-a-dozen sword pummel the solid wall, creating a loud, echoing bang. Turning to the other dozen highwaymen, Rajac lit his sword with the element of fire and attacked the stunned men with the vigor and animalistic rage of a wild beast. Men and elves both died under his sword. Rajac cut throats, severed arms, and generally butchered the highwaymen. Screams of agony greeted him as he tore through flesh and bone. Yet, he had no regret for their deaths. Robbers are robbers. Death awaits all someday. They just deserved it more than others. If he was the one to deliver it, so be it. After only a few minutes, the dozen on the right side of the road were dead. The men and elves on the left side never even got close to him as he kept throwing up walls of earth, impeding their movement at every step. When the last of the men on the right were dead, Rajac turned to the highwaymen on the other side of the road. His head was pounding now from his exertion. He really needed water at this point. It felt like if he moved another inch, he would keel over. Looking at the blood slowly dripping from his sword, Rajac idly wondered what it would taste like. Instantly, after the thought came, he shivered internally. That was just too wrong. As he stood there, the men and elves were talking to themselves animatedly. ¡°Did you see that, he can use magic!¡± ¡°I saw, he took leader down with it.¡± ¡°He must be a rich one. I saw the size of the Sadat he had. I¡¯ve never seen one that big!¡± ¡°He¡¯s a fucking monster. No matter what our orders, I¡¯m leaving this shithole.¡± In less than a minute, all retreated in a haphazard jumble, cresting a rise and disappearing from sight, not sparing a single glance for the man covered in their comrades¡¯ blood that stood at their backs. Their armor still shining brightly in the sunlight, not a drop of blood marring the polish. Rajac watched them go and fell to his knees, exhausted. Frankly, he did not think he would have been able to take all of them in his condition. Their supreme cowardice was his savior this day and their folly. But, they were nothing more than robbers. No honor among them. With a supreme amount of effort, Rajac stood, using his sword as a cane, and walked wearily over to the fallen bodies. Frisking them with rough hands, Rajac found what he was looking for. A full water-skin. Hurriedly, he uncorked the skin and downed the contents. Warm water passed down his throat. While it tasted utterly bland, Rajac greedily drank the substance. Finally satiated, he felt strength began to return to his limbs. With that reprieve, Rajac began to search the rest of the bodies. He had no compunction about robbing criminals. It was his opinion that all they owned, had once belonged to someone who rightfully owned it. Thus, when it ¡®fell¡¯ into Rajac¡¯s hands, rightful ownership passed to him. As he searched the men, he found a few books to his liking, a good quantity of dried meat, and two more gold. In a much better mood, Rajac approached the leader of the highway robbers, who still had, remarkably not died. Over the hour or so Rajac had been searching his men¡¯s bodies, the leader had stayed on his back, unable to move, taking shallow breaths while he groaned, intermittently, in excruciating pain. Rajac walked over to the elf, avoiding the grass patches slickened with the blood of the fallen. The elf was in bad shape. He shone with sweat, tiny bubbles of blood dribbled from the inside of his mouth, and his eyes were half-lidded. The gash Rajac made in him had struck his neck and collarbone, tearing chunks out of his flesh. He should be dead with that kind of strike but the element of fire instantly cauterized the wound allowing the elf to live on, although, not for long judging from his condition. Rajac lifted his sword into the elf¡¯s face. ¡°You there. Leader.¡± The elf said nothing. He just wheezed out a breath. Somewhat annoyed, Rajac looked down at the tip of his sword and almost laughed out loud at the sheer brazenness of it. Lifting his sword to the elf¡¯s open mouth, he let it hover over the gaping hole until a few splatters of blood began to dribble down the edge and into the elf¡¯s mouth. Almost immediately, a gagging, retching sound filled the air as the elf opened his eyes in obvious discomfort. A small smile touched Rajac¡¯s lips as he said, ¡°That woke you, didn¡¯t it?¡± The elf blinked at him and said, his voice hoarse with pain, ¡°You¡¯re still alive?¡± ¡°Naturally.¡± ¡°Ha.¡± The elf wheezed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. You¡¯ll be dead soon enough. These are the king¡¯s lands after all.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Rajac said confused. The elf just stared at him blankly like he was some kind of idiot. ¡°You have murdered us. The men who were collecting the king¡¯s toll. ¡± Rajac laughed out loud. It was an uncontrolled and somewhat bitter laugh as he realized his luck was truly terrible this day. Shaking his head, he walked away from the fallen leader towards where his donkey had run off to. He thought he could see it far in the distance chewing on some grass uncaring that its master had just been in a fight for his life. The leader let out a piteous groan behind Rajac. Rajac turned his head, half-expecting the elf to be dead. Instead, the elf had turned onto his side, looking at Rajac with undisguised hatred. In a voice wrapped in determination, the elf shouted at him, ¡°You laugh now but when the time comes for your head to be on the block, I will look down from the heavens and shout with joy as the headsman collects his bounty.¡± Rajac turned back around not giving any hint to what he thought of the elf¡¯s pronouncement. But inside, he felt as if someone had just plunged their hand into his chest and ripped his heart out with their bare hands. With growing trepidation, Rajac walked towards his donkey and prayed to whoever would listen to remove this curse from his very soul.
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1.2.2: Two Melons Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 2 AUTHOR''S NOTE I had some fun with this chapter as you may have guessed from the title. Anyways, I might get you another chapter tonight if you''re lucky. If not, I''ll see you guys next wednesday. Peace
August 12 - November 30, 20 R.E. The last two months of Rajac¡¯s journey had been a living hell. Bandits, he supposed, under the king¡¯s command had trailed him all the way to the capital. At first, he thought they had been chasing him since he murdered a few of their friends. But they chased him too doggedly, too loyally. It was as if they had clear instructions to hunt him to the ends of the continent. Once, they got close enough to the point where Rajac could feel a strong resonance from their location through his Sadat. It was likely they had a raven mage with them transporting orders from the capital. The king, it appeared, wanted his head. Or, at least, was very interested in speaking to the man who murdered a dozen of his men single handedly. Either or, Rajac was sure that the resulting encounter would not involve him staying alive very long. Although the bandits were persistent in their pursuit, as a lone rider, he was fleeter of foot. Inexorably, Rajac was able to reach the city just before they did. However, he knew he could not be too careful. If the bandits were looking for him here, it was a strong possibility the soldiers in the capital would be on the lookout as well. Rajac was able to sneak into the city using a long robe and two very large melons he bought from a passing merchant as he walked up to the city gates. A cheap but clever disguise he had once seen in a movie long ago. Inside the capital, Rajac felt a weight lift off of him. But, he knew the danger was not past. It was more like he was in the eye of the hurricane and had received a brief respite before the storm came crashing down once again. He knew the bandits could not look for him openly in the capital if only for the questions it would ask. Rajac doubted the king wanted those questions to find answers any time soon. Soldiers, on the other hand, had no compunction roughing up foreigners in the capital. As he walked quickly through the city streets, he generally avoided soldiers if he could. It was hard though as they seemed to be everywhere, mixed in with the crowd. Small, finely crafted venire buildings lined the cobbled streets in parallel rows, backed by high, stone parapets that blanketed out the fine, blue sky in a shade of grey. Although Rajac could not be certain, he was sure countless soldiers roamed those parapets, looking down at the crowd with eagle-eye vision. The back of his neck crawled as he hunched his shoulders, one arm snatching his melons before they fell to the ground. His face flushed with what might have happened. No doubt, if the melons fell, it would cause soldiers to head towards the boobless woman and cause him no end of embarrassment. And of course, his life as well. Mustn¡¯t forget that. It did not take him long to find the Identifier Merchant building. It was a long, jutting expanse, overhanging the street with multiple balconies. Literally, it was the most obsolescently crafted building in the city that Rajac had seen. Skirting the edge of the street, Rajac walked, his head lowered, into the building. A few shelves lined the walls with examples of their work. But mostly, there were a few rows of small tables where Identity Merchants sat with clients conducting their usual business. Rajac quietly walked up to the desk. It was a strange design. Sanded to a semi-circle, it had a rounded edge with a counter that overlooked the wooden floor below. ¡°Excuse me,¡± Rajac said in a high-pitched voice, drawing the hood of his cloak low over his face. The man on the other side of the desk looked up distracted not appearing to see through Rajac¡¯s disguise. In annoyed tone, he said, ¡°You have to make an appointment with the Magistrar¡¯s Guild before meeting with an Identity Merchant. All of our clients have arrived for the day so you clearly are not one of them. Please come back when you¡¯ve made the proper arrangements.¡± As the desk manager snapped at him, a few people began to look at Rajac in interest. Not wanting to make an even larger scene, Rajac quietly pulled out the parchment Gais had given him in Thrensford. Passing it over to the desk manager, he said in the same voice, ¡°Gais, in Thrensford, has given me a recommendation to meet with Alberon.¡± As the man accepted the parchment, he read it over once, clucked his tongue to himself. ¡°Rajac, that¡¯s a strange name for a woman.¡± The man looked up attempting to see under Rajac¡¯s hood. Rajac, once again, ducked his head, mumbling under his breath. ¡°My mother was a strange woman.¡± Chuckling to himself, the desk manager rose from his seat. ¡°One moment. I¡¯ll see if he will meet with you.¡± Then, without another word, he disappeared behind an opening in the wall. Rajac waited impatiently for the man to return. When he did, there was a sour expression on his face as he said, ¡°He will meet with you. Go through the opening and up the stairs. His office is the last one on the left.¡± Nodding, Rajac walked through the opening and up the stairs. The hallway was rather short with a sloping ceiling causing Rajac to have to bend his head slightly as he walked along its length. As he reached the last door on the left, he saw it was cracked slightly and a glimmer of light was shining from the inside. With a quick knock, he opened the door. It squeaked in protest as he stepped through into a small room with a floor-length window overlooking the street below. A small man with wiry hair and a rounded face sat behind a desk cramped against the wall. He was smoking a pipe with one hand while playing with a yo-yo with his other hand as he leaned back in a leather backed chair, his feet up on his desk. ¡°You must be Rajac.¡± Alberon said, his eyes glinting with humor. ¡°Gais told me a lot about you before you even arrived.¡± Placing his yo-yo flat against the desk with a clunk, he said, a smirk on his face, ¡°She tells me you¡¯re a Client as well. You must recognize the riches I have collected from the other world.¡± Alberon waved his hands expansively at the odd bits-and-ends in his office which included the face of a watch sitting on a shelf, a deflated football, and a t-shirt with Gandhi smoking a bong. ¡°Where did you get all this stuff?¡± Rajac looked around amazed. Alberon chuckled. ¡°The perks of being an Identity Merchant. You meet all sorts of interesting people who sell interesting things. By the way,¡± he said, flicking the tip of his pipe before lifting his tip to his mouth again. ¡°Why are you dressed as a woman? Don¡¯t get me wrong, the look suits you but I didn¡¯t know you turned that way.¡± Rajac flushed, half with anger and half with embarrassment. With an annoyed grunt, he threw off the cloak causing the melons to bounce on the ground before settling to a rolling stop at the foot of the desk. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°The king¡¯s men have been stalking me for the past two months. It was all I could do to sneak into the city?¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Alberon said with his eyebrows raised. ¡°Whatever did you do?¡± Alberon didn¡¯t look too alarmed at the prospect of talking to a fugitive from the king. Rajac stored that information for a later date. ¡°I killed some bandits who were taxing people on the way from Thrensford to the capital while in the king¡¯s land.¡± ¡°Mmm.¡± Alberon nodded his head. ¡°Yes, that would do it.¡± Alberon paused, considering his next words, before saying, ¡°The Kingdom of Gerosh is getting ready to involve itself in the Azor war. On whose side, I do not know. However, the rumors have been flying the last year-or-so that King Esain wants to secure his legacy much like his father did before him.¡± Alberon sighed, puffing on his pipe. ¡°The bandits you speak of are out there collecting taxes. The king has already raised taxes twice in the capital. Already, the people are talking of rioting if the king raises the taxes again. So, it¡¯s my belief that the king has used bandits to filch citizens from the outer-provinces of their hard earned gold. Bandits, as outlaws, could never be connected back to the king giving him a stable source of income while professing innocence in the matter to his citizens.¡± ¡°That is a lot of speculation.¡± Rajac said, crossing his arms. Alberon smiled around his pipe. ¡°Analysis is what I do for a living dear boy. In my care, speculation becomes fact and fact becomes gold.¡± Rajac grunted. Alberon¡¯s theory did make sense in a way. The king, wanting war, used bandits to raise gold without raising his citizens¡¯ ire even higher than it already was. There was just one loose end. ¡°Then why chase me? Why spend all that effort?¡± ¡°Perhaps the king does not want you to speak the truth?¡± Alberon shrugged. ¡°I can only speculate?¡± Rajac snorted. ¡°I thought your speculation became fact.¡± Alberon quirked his lips up. ¡°So it might, lad. So it might. It¡¯s only a mental exercise at the moment though. You weren¡¯t spotted coming into the city? Right?¡± ¡°Ahh¡­my disguise¡­I think¡­held up.¡± Rajac stuttered uncomfortably. ¡°Good.¡± Alberon nodded. ¡°Then the king won¡¯t be able to search for you openly, at the very least. Too much suspicion you understand. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be here long enough for him to find you.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t?¡± Rajac asked puzzled. ¡°But Gais told me the research into the third Identification might take weeks.¡± ¡°Aye. It has.¡± Alberon said nodding as he shuffled around a couple of papers. ¡°Gais transported a copy of your tomes to me quite a while ago. It gave me enough information to find a general location to the race you seek.¡± ¡°You have!¡± Rajac leaned close to the man, almost touching his nose in his eagerness to know the answer. ¡°Yes.¡± Alberon squawked, his eyes widening as Rajac leaned over the desk hungrily. ¡°The ¡®force¡¯ Gais could not break through I was able to circumvent. I found the edges of the blank area. I don¡¯t know exactly where it is but I can guide you there.¡± Alberon said. ¡°How will you do that?¡± Rajac said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. ¡°It¡¯s a form of our Orders magic. Transportation Tertiary Magic. Same principle as copying your data to a tome. I can transport you to the required destination.¡± Rajac had never heard of a magic like that. A magic that could transport across distances? Why did Identity Merchants not publish the fact? They would replace the race of Ravens as the primary messengers to every nation. It would make life safer for many who had to travel across wide distances. Bandits, like the ones Rajac faced, would fall by the wayside as instantaneous travel would become the norm. Rajac narrowed his eyes as he looked upon the Identity Merchant but did not voice his opinions. If the Identity Merchants wanted to keep this supremely useful skill to themselves, Rajac would let them. For the moment. He needed their aid too much to insult them in such a way right now. Alberon shrugged uncomfortably as a look of trepidation crossed his eyes. ¡°Though, I think you may fail when you arrive. Whoever has blocked this area from our vision is much more powerful than any who reside on this continent. His power might be on the level of a Demi-God.¡± Rajac widened his eyes in shock. Demi-Gods, unlike Gods, were not restricted from interfering in the lives of mortals on Thantos. They basically had free reign in any territory not under a Gods protection. Humans and Elves on Vashin Continent were under the protection of Kasor. So, many of the kingdoms including Gerosh and Azor to the southern tip of the continent were under his protection just due to their population base. The Akiean kingdom in the east is under the protection of their God, Nikoman, and the Empire of Tavinor has a whole pantheon that watches over it. Even the Western Territories had a Goddess watching over it. Malia, the Goddess of Chaos watched over the barbarous races within the region. Due to this, it was still more peaceful than the regions occupied by the Demi-Gods. In the few pockets where Demi-Gods battled for territory, wholesale destruction of the region was common practice. If the Ventros race where in one of those regions, Rajac went pale at the thought. Gais had confirmed some still lived so they weren¡¯t all dead yet. But Rajac knew, he would be hard pressed to get them out alive. ¡°Demi-God?¡± Rajac said hoarsely. He could hardly catch his breath. ¡°Aye.¡± Alberon said solemnly. ¡°Stay out of his or her way and you should be fine. If you stay on the edges of the territory, you should be able, with a little luck, to find your race and take them to a safer region. Rajac sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± Why did he have to choose a race with only five people? He doubted any of the other Clients had to do something this hard, or would ever have to do something this hard in their entire renewal cycle. ¡°Very well.¡± Alberon said, rising from his chair. He gripped Rajac¡¯s arm with a single hand and, once again, Rajac felt a sharp pain before he blacked out.
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1.2.3: A Greater Race Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 3 AUTHOR''S NOTE A surprise chapter! I had time to do one and here it is. This is truly the turning point of the first arc and perhaps the rest of the story. From here on in, it gets a lot darker. So buckle up and get ready. See you next wednesday. Also, there will be a small note at the bottom. DO NOT READ IT UNTIL YOU HAVE FINISHED THE CHAPTER! Unless you want spoilers, then by all means, go ahead.
November 30, 20 R.E. Rajac felt something salty in his mouth as he woke. Still half-dreaming, he absently chewed the food. Hmm. Crunch. Swallow. Crunch. A dull throb beat on his head constantly. He just wanted to sleep. Rolling over, a sharp pain bit him in the side. With a hiss, he jumped to his knees. There was a bitter taste in his mouth and he spit absently, trying to rid himself of the source. A few bits of leaf flew out of his mouth. Weighed down by his saliva, they dropped like rocks, falling straight down to the forest floor. Forest floor? Rajac shook his head as he attempted to make the pounding go away. Staggering to his feet, he looked around. He was on the slope of a hill, leaves scattered on the ground, and high cedars towered into the sky; their limbs as bare as winter approached. So Alberon had actually sent him to the Demi-God¡¯s territory where the remaining Ventros lived. Amazing. A grin split his face as he began to hike through the forest knowing this was the last leg of his journey. As he walked, Rajac was sure this was another part of the continent. The trees, cedar, was different than the ones he knew in the north. So too, were the plants and animals. A few multi-colored birds sang to one another as he hiked, emphasizing the differences between this region and his home. As night approached, Rajac spotted his first civilization. Well, something like in any case. As he crested a rise littered with tree stumps, Rajac saw below a trail of smoke snaking lazily above a small collection of cedars. Eagerly, Rajac scaled down the hill, running to the small gathering. Reservations about who inhabitated the fire or their intentions quickly flew out the window in his eagerness to find his race. In hindsight, Rajac would have beaten himself sensless right then and there. But, he was young then. Young and foolish. Age makes wise men of us all, some say. And this day, above all others, was the day Rajac was the epitome of the fool. As he approached, he heard quiet laughter which only made him increase his pace. ¡°Greetings, my friends!¡± Rajac called out to the hazy forms in front of him. The laughter suddenly stopped. Three distinct forms stood in clear defensive postures. Rajac slowed his pace but his eagerness at finally reaching his goal bade him not stop. ¡°I am no enemy,¡± he called, raising a hand over his head. One of the three stepped closer to the fast approaching Rajac. In the darkness, Rajac could see little of the person; however, just by the outline, Rajac could see the ¡®man¡¯ was not human. At least six appendages could be seen outlined by the dim shadows they cast from the crescent of the moon. This made Rajac slow finally. They weren¡¯t Ventros. He needed to calm himself before he made a mistake he would regret. Walking with some caution now, Rajac approached the ¡®men¡¯. ¡°Who are you?¡± The¡¯man¡¯ said in a deep, rumbling voice filled with suspicion. ¡°Lord Gaya has not given any permission to travel this far out.¡± It was not hard for Rajac to reply ignorantly, as he truly was, ¡°Who is this Lord Gaya? I¡¯ve recently arrived in this region, lost, and am looking for a place to shelter for the night.¡± Though, as he spoke, Rajac came to the conclusion Gaya must be the Demi-God or one of his subordinates to command such a title within this region. ¡°Ha. You jest.¡± One of the ¡®men¡¯ in the back said. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡± Rajac said, still slowly approaching. He thought he could see a blue tint to the ¡®men¡¯s¡¯ skin only highlighted when they shifted in the night. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what region I am in right now.¡± There was disbelief in the ¡®man¡¯s¡¯ voice as he said, ¡°None enter or leave her without Lord Gaya¡¯s permission.¡± Walking forward now, the ¡®man¡¯ could be clearly seen. Four massive arms swung ape-like were attached to where a man¡¯s ribcage would be. His skin was a light blue, almost florescent in the night, as his head was, well, there was no other word for it, skinless. A thick membrane covered his brain from the night air; however, Rajac could clearly see the pink organ pulsating with the flow of blood with every breath the man took. Rajac stopped in his tracks. This was just too odd. He had never seen a creature like this in either his past life or this life. The ¡®man¡¯ stopped as well and let out a great guffaw. ¡°Ha. Look at this. Gesha, Muhal. Another one has attempted to escape.¡± Gesha and Muhal walked into the range of Rajac¡¯s vision and he saw, with some discomfort, that both looked exactly like the ¡®man¡¯. One of the two let out another laugh. ¡°Ha. They never learn. Though, this is the first time I¡¯ve seen one willingly come to us.¡± The ¡®man¡¯ paused. ¡° This one is mine Gesha. You had the last one.¡± Gesha rolled his eyes, or whatever passed for them in these blue creatures. They were slightly large concaved, slate grey, structures in the ¡®men¡¯s¡¯ faces. ¡°Whatever. Give me that dagger you¡¯ve been hording and he¡¯s all yours.¡± ¡°Grhh.¡± Muhal growled, annoyed. ¡°Fine.¡± He finally said, digging into his pants and bringing out a short dagger with a finely polished hilt, handing it over to Gesha. Are they seriously trading a dagger to fight me? Rajac thought stunned. This was just too bizarre. Shaking his head, he pulled out his short sword; the Sadat glinted slightly in the moonlight. Muhal turned, a wicked grin on his strange face. He drew his sword from its sheath and walked casually up to Rajac. ¡°Ventros are always so fun to fight.¡± He chuckled softly. ¡°They are always so sure of their abilities. It¡¯s always so fun to dissuade them.¡± Rajac only blinked at him. If the ¡®man¡¯ was trying to frighten him, it would not work. The Ventros here were, in all probability, like his own family. Forgetful of their way, they reverted to a baser existence, fodder for creatures like this one. The ¡®man¡¯ who first spoke to Rajac called to Muhal, ¡°Don¡¯t kill him Muhal. The Greater-Races who disobey are to go to the circle. The Lord¡¯s orders.¡± ¡°Yes commander.¡± Muhal called back without looking over his shoulder. ¡°You already had your warning Muhal. You won¡¯t get another.¡± With those words, the commander left Muhal and Gesha in the forest clearing. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. A pained looked crossed Muhal¡¯s face at those words followed quickly by anger. ¡°Ventros man,¡± Muhal spat, ¡°Let us finish this farce quickly. My sheets grow cold without me.¡± Rajac nodded imperceptibly. He was looking at where Gesha was looking on, uninterested. He could take out Muhal with a single blow and the follow it up with a strike to Gesha¡¯s sternum. An easy victory. Then, he could continue his search. The Ventros were here. Rajac just had to avoid any more obstacles before collecting his people and leaving. Rajac moved. The first step of the Unbroken Dance, a step of Martyr¡¯s Fallacy. He urged fire to course down his sword and impale Muhal. A huge stream of fire immediately flew from his Sadat, trailing down his sword, before extending from the point to strike at Muhal. And nothing. Muhal stood silently, a hand raised in front of his body, as smoke trailed lazily into the air from the path his fire magic made. Rajac hesitated as he registered he had not made impacted Muhal¡¯s flesh. He reverted to the Cadence of Jin, growing so far as the third step. Muhal grinned. ¡°I love this part.¡± Muhal dashed close, almost faster than the eye could see, and struck at Rajac. Rajac was barely able to bring his sword up in time to defend. A sharp clang on clang thundered through the forest as the two men clashed swords. Though, they were not equal. A great reverberation of sound boomed from the epicenter of the clash throwing Rajac ten paces back. He crashed into the ground with a hard thump. Overcoming the pain of the crash, Rajac rolled to his feet, his hand numbed from the exchange. Shock was the only expression he could feel at the moment. Panic, though, was a rising emotion in his heart as it attempted to throttle him with its greedy embrace. ¡°Muhal.¡± Gesha cautioned, as she leaned against a tree some thirty paces in the distance. ¡°That was too much force. You may have killed him.¡± ¡°I doubt it.¡± Muhal chuckled as he approached Rajac slowly. ¡°This kid is the first of the Greater-Races to block my blow head on in about a century. He could withstand twice as much I wager.¡± ¡°It¡¯s on your head.¡± Gesha shrugged indifferently. He was holding back? Rajac thought dumbly. There was no way he could face a monster twice his strength. How were they this strong? Rajac had thought, falsely it appeared, that these ¡®men¡¯ were not that strong because he could not sense magic from them. But if their strength was this monstrous, what was the need? Rajac growled. He could not meet his end here. His race needed to be freed from this place to secure his future. If not, his immortality would be as good as a moot point. Flinging himself into Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, he attacked the surprised Muhal. First step, thrust, second step, slash, third step, pivot, fourth step, lunge, explosion of fire. Boom! ~ Muhal raised his sword in defense to each blow, astonished by the ferocity of the onslaught Rajac was bringing. He was being pushed back. Never, in all the centuries he had lived, had he thought this would happen. In fact, it had never happened before. He was the strongest. He had always prided himself on the fact. Neither the Commander or Gesha could match him in strength. They were better in almost everything else, to be fair, but Muhal did not count other things. Strength was all that mattered and to be beaten back by a Greater-Race pup, it was unthinkable. The pup had a look of climatic joy on his face as he struck out with his sword, slicing a sliver of flesh away from Muhal¡¯s stomach. As a flicker of pain registered in Muhal, it broke whatever reserves he had been holding. Whatever the punishment, he would take it; this farce had gone on long enough. With a great roar of frustration, Muhal unleashed his full strength even though he knew it would, in all probability, kill the pup. ~ Rajac felt victory close at hand as he went through the steps of Martyr¡¯s Fallacy. Farther and farther, he drove Muhal back until they were, once again, at the center of the clearing. Eager for his victory, Rajac struck hard, cutting the air with his sword faster than the eye could see. He felt a snagging, a tearing, a ripping of the flesh and a small chunk of the blue-tinted skin of Muhal came away with his sword much like a fish caught on a hook. Pain and anger overwhelmed all other emotions on Muhal¡¯s face and he roared his rage for the entire world to hear. Rajac¡¯s eyes went wide at the sound. It was an unearthly scream of bestial proportions; however, he was far too-well experienced to hesitate from such a sound. He lunged forward once again, intending to make a fatal blow; however, Muhal was quicker. A snarl covered the ¡®man¡¯s¡¯ face, as he swung his sword like a club, smashing it down on Rajac who, at the last instant, brought his sword up to block. A thundering explosion, like a clap of thunder, met the air as the two swords met once again. For a single second, Rajac withstood the monstrous strength before he felt a crumpling from his sword. It shattered into a million pieces, his Sadat, one of his few prized possessions broke in three, the magic sealed inside, lost forever to Rajac¡¯s grasp. He only felt a moment of sadness as a split-second later, Muhal¡¯s sword came crashing down on him and he fell into blackness.
AUTHOR''S NOTE To clear a few things up. This chapter introduces the hierarchy of races. It will become very important in later arcs. Ventros are a Greater Race. Base Race: Any race who cannot speak. They possess no magic abilities whatsoever. Lesser Race: Have the ability to speak. They possess no magic abilities whatsoever. Common Race: Have the ability to learn magic. Greater Race: Have inherent magic that can be accessed through means specific to each race. Epic Race: Born with Magic Godly Race: Born into the Pantheons. Have there own set of race hierarchies.
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1.2.4: The Circle Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 4 AUTHOR''S NOTE I was going to post a new thread right after this just for this note but I''ll put it up here instead. This is the 14th chapter already! Ok, so I''ve noticed that there has been a few complaints about the MC and as I stated in the comments he will get ''smarter.'' I promise. The start of that change actually begins in this chapter. Furthermore, I have noticed that only the same three or four people are posting responses to the chapters. While I don''t begrudge their enthusiasm, I would appreciate more responses from the community at large. Before I post this chapter, we have on average, 580 views per chapter. I am writing this because I think I have a story to tell and I think you guys would like that story. So, I want some interaction so I know what you guys like and don''t like about the story. Already, I have had a few responses about the MC. So, please comment in the threads so I know what you guys want to remain constant in the story and what you guys want to change. Thanks!
Unknown Date, 20 R.E. Rajac woke cold and shivering in the winter air. He knew he had been in a semi-conscious state from Muhal¡¯s blow for at least several days by the amount of times they had spoon fed his prone corpse. Well, at least, they don¡¯t want me dead, Rajac thought with some conviction. Patting himself down, he felt a gauzy substance underneath his tunic. Raising the thin cotton, Rajac craned his neck and saw a long padded strip of cotton draped over his chest where the wound lay. He let the shirt fall with a shrug as he rose. Better to leave the bandage where it was. Even though he felt no pain. He had no idea what would happen if he ripped it off. It was possible the wound could open and he could bleed out. Looking around, he saw he was in a stone room with no amenities. The only exit, an iron-bar door drilled into the stone below showed an expanse of dirt, shadowed by rising rows of benches in a circular fashion. With his mouth gaping, Rajac walked over to the iron door, a cold chill sweeping across his bare flesh and stuck his head up to the opening to get the best look possible at what lay outside. Thousands upon thousands of benches lined the sky like heavens all around. It was an incredible sight. With a sudden recollection, Rajac understood that this must have been the Circle the Commander had spoken of. Frankly, it looked like a coliseum to Rajac and he shivered at the possibilities. A depression began to rise within him at what might be to come. Rajac headed to a corner of the room and sat down against the wall. Whoever was taking care of him would come soon and they would answer his questions about this place. He hoped. It took longer than he thought but a human man in a simple tunic and breaches walked up to the iron door with a trey of food. Setting the trey of food down, the man noticed Rajac was awake. With mild surprise, the man stated as simply, ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ll schedule you for tonight.¡± Rajac rose hurriedly, racing to the bars. ¡°Wait!¡± He called to the man who had already been retreating. But the man either ignored him or was already out of earshot. Night came quickly, and with it, the crowds. Creatures of many races, most of which, Rajac had never even heard of, filled the thousands upon thousands of benches. A raucous crescendo slowly built as the Circle filled awaiting what Rajac had begun to dread. It was not that he feared to fight. It was that he feared to fight without his Sadat. His Sadat was what made him strong and Muhal had destroyed it with a single blow. Without it, Rajac felt he was only an above-average swordsman. Thus, his confidence was lagging as the same man, with the same abundantly plain garb, dressed his wound and placed a short sword in his hand. As Rajac tried to speak to the man, ask him any questions at all, the man pointedly ignored him. So, Rajac glumly listened to the announcer who had stepped into the center of the Circle. ¡°Welcome one, Welcome all!¡± The elf said. At least, Rajac thought he was an elf. Though, he had the wrong skin color for one and his build was much larger than ones he had seen previously. Probably and elf variant, Rajac mused, as he attempted to distract himself from fighting without his Sadat. ¡°As his gift to you, Lord Gaya, in his benevolence, had given into your bloody demands and another night of the Circle is being held each week!¡± Raucous laughter could be heard from the crowd, drowning out the announcer¡¯s next words. ¡°¡­have many fights this night. Many criminals have taken it upon themselves to try and leave the comfort of Lord Gaya¡¯s protection.¡± Jeers met the announcer¡¯s words. The elf paused, a small smile on his face. ¡°I know, I know. Repugnant. But that is why they are here. To repent for their crimes and of course,¡± the elf chuckled, ¡°To provide us entertainment.¡± Loud cheers rumbled through the audience and Rajac felt his nerves twist inside him. ¡°As you know, we only allow the very best to walk within the Circle. Greater Races of many kinds have shed blood on this very surface. But tonight, we have something special for you. A Ventros has been caught trying to leave.¡± Hushed whispers circled through the crowd at that. ¡°Yes, it is true. Very rare for one of them to show themselves. They are renowned as the very best swordsman; though,¡± the announcer said with a sorrowful expression, ¡°I will admit, he is a rather young swordsman who has only mastered half of their Style.¡± Surprised, Rajac looked up, his nerves forgotten. How does he know that? It came to him almost instantly. My pack. It had my skill tomes in them. What a fool I¡¯ve been. To the right people, those are worth millions. Annoyed, Rajac gripped his sword tightly in his hand. ¡°On the other side, we have another newcomer this day. He is a Kraisian. Strong of body. Fit as a lion. It will be an interesting battle between both of them. Neither has the ability to use magic, of course. How much fun would that be?¡± A few shouts of ¡®None at all¡¯ and ¡®Just kill the fuckers!¡¯ reigned down from above. The announcer smiled politely at the hecklers and said with an exited air, ¡°Are you ready?¡± He raised his hands into the air and the crowd went wild. They stamped their feet and cheered until Rajac could no longer hear. Just as he lowered his hands, Rajac¡¯s door clanged open and he raced through it. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. He had no idea where his opponent¡¯s cell was but if he could head him off, it would be a great advantage to him. As he thundered towards the center of the arena, the announcer, a panicked look in his eyes, quickly disappeared into the stands. As he ran, Rajac¡¯s eyes scanned for his opponent. Glancing back behind him, Rajac noticed a cell door, a few doors over from his, open to the Circle. A four-legged creature was slowly stalking out of the cage that held it sniffing the ground in contempt. He had a long, sleek body with matted brown fur. Two black, beady eyes glinted out in the darkness and his two, spiked tails swung menacingly with every step. This was a Kraisian? Rajac had very little interaction with the beast races. The only ones he knew who lived near human and elf-like habitations were Ravens and that was only because they were paid well. Rajac turned to face the beast, his sword raised. The Kraisian looked up at him then, a look of contempt on its face. Uncertainty clouded Rajac¡¯s thoughts as he looked at the powerful creature. Could he defeat him without his Sadat? Rajac thought he could take Muhal but that proved false. Laughably so. Instinctively, Rajac stepped into the first step of the Cadence of Jin. Even though he feared the power he felt emanating from the beast, he felt a conviction rising in him. He had to survive. He needed to rescue his race. He wanted to see his family again. This life, granted to him, was such a treasure. He did not want to throw it away so easily. He knew that he had done some egregiously stupid things in the past. No longer. No longer was he free from responsibility. His people, the Ventros, were apart of him now. He had chosen them. And thus, he had to protect them. It started right here with this beast. Anger began to course through Rajac then as he settled into his stance. The Kraisian pounced, growling with undeniable bloodlust. ¡°Kill!¡± It shouted at him as it dove. Rajac ignored it at moved quickly into the fourth step of the Cadence, avoiding the creature¡¯s swipe only barely. He felt a gust of wind pass over him as he moved. The Kraisian landed dramatically, skidding to a stop with a screech of its long claws. Rajac moved quickly then performing the first step of Fallacy as he thrust with his sword. He felt a tearing of flesh as he plunged the sword into the Kraisian¡¯s side. With a roar, the beast backed away, hissing. Feeling somewhat triumphant, Rajac grinned then, but he knew it was too early to celebrate victory. He remembered too vividly what happened when he thought victory in hand against Muhal. Remembering that bitter loss, only days previously, Rajac¡¯s mood soured and he, once again, moved back into the Cadence, waiting for the beast to approach. Growling, the beast dove at him once again and Rajac stepped back; however, this time, Rajac was less lucky. The beast¡¯s claws tore through the flesh of his left arm causing him to howl in pain. Though it felt like he was burning alive, Rajac grit his teeth and attacked the Kraisian where it landed. Again, he stabbed the beast, tearing a chunk of flesh from its hindquarters. ¡°Ha! Blow for blow everyone!¡± The announcer called from the stands. ¡°Will you look at that!¡± Rajac tuned out the voice as he advanced on the creature. It was hobbling on its three good legs, pain evident in its eyes. Quickly, Rajac struck at the creature again, but it was able to avoid it by jumping to his left. ¡°I won¡¯t go down that easily Ventros!¡± It screeched. Rajac said nothing as he struck again. This time, he swung at an arching angle, aiming towards the wounded leg. Pain lanced up his left arm as he clenched his whole body through the swing. As he felt a tearing, warmth along with the knowledge of his victory flew into his heart. The Kraisian¡¯s leg thunked to the ground as a jet of blood began to gush out of the howling creature¡¯s body. It slumped to the ground, too much in pain to stand any longer. Its leg lay forgotten at its foot, a cleanly hoven chunk of bloody bone visible in the darkness. Cheers welled up from the audience as Rajac stood, breathing heavily. ¡°Kill! Kill! Kill!¡± Rang the crowd. What was he supposed to do? Rajac looked at the announcer who waited silently for Rajac to perform some action. With some reluctance, Rajac bent over the injured Kraisian who looked pitiful as it moaned in pain, curled in a ball. ¡°I am sorry. If it was me, I would have liked you to make it quick.¡± With a flick of his sword, Rajac impaled the Kraisian¡¯s throat, cutting off the beast¡¯s screams. At that moment, a strange notion came over Rajac as he remembered a movie he had seen in his past life. A line from it seemed perfect right now. Turning to the crowd, he yelled as loudly as he could, ¡°Are you not entertained!¡± Sudden silence met his remarks as he stalked back to his cage, dropping the sword in the dirt. He had no idea how long he would be kept here but he would be no slave to these people. He would fight for his survival. His very race depended on it. But he would not grovel for his existence. A small twinge of sadness rose in him as he reached his stone room. He knew it would be a long time before he would be able to see his family again. What would they think when he sent no letter? He sighed as he closed his iron door behind him only to raise his head in surprise as the cheers rose louder than ever behind him. Some began to even shout ¡®Ventros!¡¯ ¡®Ventros!¡¯ ¡®Ventros!¡¯. As Rajac lay back against the stone floor, the crowd still cheering for him, he knew he would have to become much stronger to escape this place, let alone survive.
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1.2.5: Indefinite Training Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 5 AUTHOR''S NOTE Thank you for your responses! I reconsidered putting a stable thread for Q/A/ Comments but I think it would be helpful. So, a few hours after I upload this, I''ll put that thread up and will continuously update the thread with whatever you guys ask or what improvements or things you like about the story. Also, please look below after you finish the chapter. There will be a small comment at the bottom.
Unknown Date, 20 R.E. ¨C Unknown Date Rajac spent many of his first days improving his strength and stamina in his cell. Much like he had when he was a child, he did pushups, crunches, and curls all within his cell. He also ran, though, it was in a small circle around his cell. Further, he practiced the Delight of the Unknown and the Truth of the Many religiously. Unlike the Cadence of Jin and Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, they were not intended to be used in unison. Rather, they were like stepping stones. The Delight of the Unknown was an array of a dizzying 128 steps creating billions of possibilities. The purpose of the form, as Rajac had surmised long ago, was to avoid the opponent rather than block him. It could be used, much like the Cadence, in one-on-one and one-versus-many situations; however, just like the Cadence, it required magic to perform the latter. The Element of Wind. The Truth of the Many only had 8 steps; yet, those 8 steps were used after completing a series of 16 steps in the Delight of the Unknown. For example, Rajac could complete the first 16 steps of the Delight before deciding to move into the Truth or he could continue with the Delight until he reached the 32nd step. This requirement made learning both forms much more difficult. The purpose of the Truth of the Many was to deliver a withering attack to an opponent much like Martyr¡¯s Fallacy; however, while Martyr¡¯s was more based on frontal assaults, the Truth was based upon maneuvering around an opponent or opponents. Rajac believed that each had a slightly different purpose. Fallacy was used to quickly finish an opponent while the Truth, using the Element of Water, was used to fight multiple opponents at once in conjunction to the Delight. Rajac had been using Martyr¡¯s Fallacy in this way; however, that was never its intended purpose. As he studied the forms in his mind, he began to realize, over the following months, the Unbroken Dance was to defend against many opponents while fighting a single opponent while Stepping Stones was to attack multiple opponents all at once. Rajac was determined to master the final two forms. No matter the cost, no matter the effort. Months past. Winter turned to summer and Rajac was now considered a veteran of the Circle. A double-edged sword. He had been in countless fights against countless races. He lost count of the number of races he encountered and the number of men he killed. His name was known well within the Circle and the crowd cheered his name every time he entered; however, it also meant that he was only brought out now to fight the most dangerous of men. Most of them could use magic; however, Rajac had become better than he was when he first entered the Circle. He was able to use the forms to adapt to any style of fighting-including magic. Once he thought about it, it was not so difficult to defend against. Inherent magic, unlike the use of a Sadat, was based upon an individual¡¯s inner-strength. Thus, it had to be honed, trained, and strengthened all on its own. Therefore, those who used magic spent all their time training their skill in that area thus they were weak in areas such as close-combat and hand-to-hand fighting. Both of which were skills Rajac excelled at and the Circle gave him the advantage. As time passed, Rajac was able perfect both forms and meld them into Stepping Stones using both in unison to perfection. By this time, he thought three years had passed but he was unsure. The only thing he had to measure the passage of time was the changing seasons and he had little clue as to what part of the continent he was on. He had heard it was called the region of Abria but he had no idea where that was. Rajac¡¯s weekly fights continued and, by the time he had mastered Stepping Stone, no one in the Circle posed a threat to him. The announcer only brought him out for truly special events now and he was left alone to train in peace. There were two things Rajac knew he had to master before he had the ability to escape this place. He needed to be prepared to face anything once he left, even Lord Gaya if necessary. In all probability, he had the ability to escape the Circle with the skill he held just at that moment. His heart yearned to do so. It had been so long since he had seen or heard from his family. In all likelihood, they thought him dead by this point and, all he could do was blame himself for getting in this mess in the first place. So, he promised himself, he would be as prepared as possible before he attempted to rescue his people and return to his family. Therefore, he needed to master the Ventros Style completely, melding both the Unbroken Dance and Stepping Stone together into one form. Furthermore, he needed to find out how to use his inherent magic. He knew his race was capable of it as a Greater Race. Over the years here, he had heard much talk about how all the Greater Races had the ability to access it but required a ¡®catalyst¡¯ for it to happen. He had no idea what the catalyst for the Ventros was and attempted many things over the years; however, when nothing was forthcoming, he put it to the side as he attempted to master his forms. Even as he mastered Stepping Stone, Rajac had little clue how to meld the two sub-groups of the Ventros Sword Style. For weeks, he thought on the issue as he sat on the stone floor of his cell, recreating the forms in his mind¡¯s eye as his fourth year in the Circle passed. His name was called only once during those months and, irritated at the announcer for distracting him, killed his opponent in a single blow, before he returned to his cell once more to return to his studies. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. It was not until his fifth year that he made a breakthrough. For years, he thought that the forms had to go in order. Unbroken Dance and Stepping Stones had to stay in their original forms. Each¡¯s attack with each¡¯s defense; however, that was not the case at all. In fact, it was much the opposite. Both sub-groups complemented each other in ways Rajac had not seen until he absent-mindedly watched a hydra fight a man in the Circle. While the man died, Rajac pictured himself fighting the hydra and noticed that the hydra¡¯s heads attacked in unison. That was when he finally understood. Both of the defensive forms were to be used in unison just as the attacking forms were to be used in unison. This was very different from his earlier assumption that the Unbroken Dance and Stepping Stones were to be used in unison. The Cadence of Jin could be used to block opponents who got too close as he was performing the Dance of the Unknown and Martyr¡¯s Fallacy was the finishing blow after he boxed his opponent in with the Truth of the Many. With his reverie in his hands, Rajac doubled his training as he interwove all four forms into the Ventros Style. For months, he trained. He knew not how long. Years maybe. At least twice, winter came. Rajac did not notice, so focused was he upon his training. Time passed quickly, and with it, Rajac was able to master the Ventros Sword Style. As he reached his goal, he thought elation would come with his success. While there was some joy, he was dissatisfied with his progress. Without magic, the Ventros Sword Style was not complete. And without it, he would not leave the Circle. For years, he had been the fool. Acting before he thought, he landed in this ¡®prison¡¯. He would not make that mistake again. So, even though he had spent years here, he was willing to spend even more if his training required it. And so, he once again, sat in the corner of his stone cell thinking of what the catalyst could be for the Ventros. From what he knew of the Ventros, they were unlike any race he knew of on Thantos. They were neither beast, elf, nor human in variation. Most of the races were one of the three as they were the most populous; therefore, they had the most variant races. Ventros were renowned for their sword work. Did the catalyst have anything to do with that? Rajac had thought so, at first, and attempted many times to evoke magic while performing his sword work. To no avail. He tried many things over the next year. Winter came once again and passed with a flurry of snow. Still, Rajac had made no progress. Yet, he was not willing to give up. He had attempted thousands of ideas, many of which, he had tried previously. Nothing worked. For the next few months, he thought on the matter. No idea came to him. Frustration mounted in Rajac every day that he failed. For hours, he sat in his corner attempting to will his magic to coalesce. And nothing happened¡­until something did. As the second year of his training approached, Rajac felt a small nudge within his heart as he willed fire elemental magic to trail up his arm. At first, he thought it was another phantom feeling but as he sat, with his eyes closed, his arm grew warmer and warmer. As he opened his eyes in surprise, he could see small flames begin to form on his tunic. Surprised, he beat them out with his hand hurriedly. A grin spread on his face as he knew he had finally found the way to use magic. Admittedly, it was not that hard to grasp. It was much like using a Sadat; however, as he knew, inherent magic had to be strengthened before use. With him trying so many styles of using magic, it was no surprise it took him this long to figure out how to use his magic. Furthermore, the ¡®catalyst¡¯ that all spoke of had never appeared so even as Rajac delightedly began to train his magic, he could not help but be curious about the answer to that particular conundrum. Rajac began to strengthen his magic by slowly using more and more of each of his elements until he felt that they were stronger than they had been when he had his Sadat. Finally, he felt his training was finished. After so many years, after many enemies defeated in the Circle, and after so long from his family, he felt it was finally time to complete his mission and return to his family. A grim smile on his lips, Rajac opened the door to his stone cage, knowing he would never again step foot in the place that had been his home for almost a decade.
AUTHOR''S NOTE As some of you may have guessed, the catalyst for Rajac was completing the Ventros Sword Style. Once he completed it without the use of magic, the seal on his magic was broken. I won''t tell you why the Ventros catalyst is on their Sword Style because I may make an arc about the reason later or I may just throw it in at some point. Further, as mastering the style is extremely difficult and time-consuming, even during the Ventros'' height, it was rare to meet a master of the style. At their height, only a handful of masters of the style existed during each generation. So, when Rajac mastered the style, he was able to use his inherent magic. Since he had no idea what inherent magic was supposed to feel like, he was unable to train it properly. Though, by attempting to will it out of his body on the many occasions he attempted to use it, he was unconsciously training it.
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FAQ As I said, I would be creating a stable thread just for this. I will field all questions and concerns here, updating it regularly. I will also try to use this page to update background information and close holes in the plot. I am writing this at a rather quick pace as you have seen so some stuff gets by me. If any of you know how to put a ''spoiler'' box, please put it in the comments. Chapter Progress This is a progress bar for the chapters. When you see the chapters that have been promised to be released either 1/2 the arc which would be the first 4 or 5 chapters, the chapters will be released. If the chapter says Final Draft 100% complete, you know it is done.
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Information on Donations Most of the Donations will be used in the future for editing purposes. Editing is very expensive and if I want to put the book on Amazon and get it published, I need an editor to look it over first.You do not need to donate for me to release chapters but it may help to increase my pace as it would give me more time to write. If you donate, I will thank you in the chapter after you donate. Questions/Answers 1. Why is Rajac an idiot? The most common complaint so far has been Rajac''s stupidity. I have already explained this in the comments but I will do so again for this thread. I wanted to create a character that was ''foolish'' and could not get out of all the situations he got himself into. Frankly, I was growing tired of the ''fool hero'' stories that populate entertainment today and wanted a different take on a MC who was a fool who could not handle the problems thrown at him. Therefore, I created Rajac. But, as there have been complaints, I altered the story slightly around chapter 13 to allow for Rajac to experience some character growth. 2. Why are the chapters short? Another common concern about the story so far is that the chapters are short. Now, each chapter will be roughly 2000 words. I think this is a good length for a light novel chapter. If I was writing an epic fantasy or other highly detailed story, the chapters would be around 5000 words. But, light novels move at a rather quick pace and details can be lost in the mix as it is generally accepted that the story triumphs over the details. Also, I just don''t have the time to write 5000 words each week. Lol. 3. Why have we not met any other Clients? There a few items that no one has talked about yet, but I wish to address anyway as I feel it is on some of your minds. We have not met any Clients, as yet, since I wanted Rajac to experience the new world alone. He would need to make his own way to grow strong. I felt that if there were Clients he would naturally have to make friends and enemies. Further, his quest to find his people is a personal quest for his own people which I felt was a strong enough story on its own without having to involve Clients. 4. Will there be other main characters or prevalent characters throughout the story? Maybe. Frankly, I think that Rajac is more of a solitary figure. I feel that...certain events...at the end of...yeah...I can''t really tell you but you get the idea. This is a tragedy folks. But if you guys want more central characters, I''ll certainly consider it. 5. What is the average lifespan of a Ventros? On average, a Ventros will live to 120 at the current technology. Humans 65, Elves 250, Beasts: Range from 50-1000 but most tend to hover around 70. 6. What will the role of technology be in the future of the story? No one asked this but I want to add this as I think it is important. Technology, as you may have noticed, is a stat in every race. At a certain point, if a race''s technology stat rises, they have the ability to advance. I won''t go into specifics but it will be interesting writing it into the story later. 7. Is this like Coiling Dragon or other IEATTOMATOES work? Yes and No. While I am a fan of his work, he was not the largest influence on this story. I set out to create a wuxia story that meshed with virtual reality while adding more down-to-earth elements to it. Wuxia is a great genre but I felt it was too light-hearted to portray the story in the way I wanted it told. Therefore, I dampened down the talk of the more mystical elements of wuxia. Rather, I tried to give logical explanations for things such as mystical beasts are no longer mystical but are races of beasts. The stereotypical leveling that is found in wuxia is now based upon a leveling system and I won''t go into that because the MC, at the moment, is nearing or at (not telling) level 100 which could be considered to be Houtain or something like it. Though, I won''t. I don''t feel there are enough similarities between the two leveling systems. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. 8. Why add in Identity Merchants? What is their purpose? I wanted to keep the story as grounded as possible. Their addition allowed me to have the story in a virtual world without having to constantly deal with the virtual elements. Constantly looking at your stats just is not that fun for me. So, I added the Identity Merchants as a way to distance Rajac from his stats. He could grow on his own without relying too much upon the skill tomes. Also, I want to make this very clear. 9. How do you gain levels and what is the purpose? Let me answer the second part first. Skills and leveling do not have the ability to affect people within Thantos. Both only tell the user what ''level'' they are at. Though, traits can put limitations and maximize growth potential. For example, Rajac gained his skills in his sword style himself. The program did not gift him great skills through the tomes. Same with leveling. All leveling does, is give a benchmark to each 100 levels when something ''special'' happens. But traits, like Born an Idiot can detrimentally affect a Client by limiting growth potential making it harder for him to overcome limitations. Levels are gained through many ways. But mostly, it is arbitrarily through the program. 10. How does the program AI work? This is somewhat complicated but it works through a process called Network Virtualization. It is hierarchical in nature and there are many AI''s within the system. Renewal Eternal used discarded tests subjects brains and modified them to work with AI. I know, it sounds mad-sciency. So, each individual in Thantos has an AI system. Further, when a child is born, the AI system is combined with the other AI system of the mother/father...do I really need to tell you how children are born. Yeah, ok, so it''s the same. When a Client is born, his data overrides the child AI''s data. Even as each person has an AI system, the Gods whom watch over the people have AI systems as well that directly report to the Renewal Internal staff. Thus, when Ms. Edwards asked how many Ventros were left on Thantos, she asked the ''gods.'' They gave her five as they could not see the rest of them that were hidden by the Demi-God, who can be considered to possess enough power to shroud his region from them. 11. What is the level limit in the program? Sorry, can''t tell you that. What I can tell you, is that every 100 levels is a benchmark of sorts and something occurs. But, there are no tribulations as found often in wuxia. As it is already hard to get to level 100 and beyond, just surpassing it requires a large amount of time and effort. Thus, no tribulation. 12. Does the technology stat affect the lifespan and if it does, is it possible to gain immortality? The technology stat can affect lifespan. It is most prevalent in human and human variant races. As you might remember, Humans technology stat grows 6 times faster than normal. When they reach a benchmark, new technology opens up to them providing better health care, housing, etc., which improves their lifespan. But immortality can not be gained in that particular way. I will say though that the ''Gods'', not Godly Races, but Gods are immortal...mostly. 13. Can one of the normal races, after obtaining a certain level, evolve into a demigod or god? No. And here''s why. Base Race: Any race who cannot speak. They possess no magic abilities whatsoever. Lesser Race: Have the ability to speak. They possess no magic abilities whatsoever. Common Race: Have the ability to learn magic. Greater Race: Have inherent magic that can be accessed through means specific to each race. Epic Race: Born with Magic Godly Race: Born into the Pantheons. Have there own set of race hierarchies. Only those born into the Pantheons can be Godly Races. The hierarchical system of races only classifies the inherent abilities of each race. Godly Races are slightly different as their Base Race is equal to that of a Greater Race within the hierarchical system. Godly Base Race = Greater Race Godly Lesser Race = Epic Race Godly Common Race = ??? Godly Greater Race = ??? Godly Epic Race = ??? Godly ??? Race = ??? 1.2.6: Return to Civilization Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 6 AUTHOR''S NOTE I''ve already set up the thread for Questions and Comments and have already started to update it based on people''s comments. It can be found here. http://www.royalroadl.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=14626 Also, Arc 1 only had 3-5 more chapters left. I should have one or two more done by this weekend and I''ll post them when I''m done. P.S. I apologize if this chapter is somewhat boring. It''s a transition chapter and I couldn''t very well skip over a lot of the information imparted in this chapter. But it is important to set up the next few chapters. I may have the next, and far more interesting, chapter out tonight.
Unknown Date Rajac breathed deeply as he walked out of his stone cage. The guard on duty outside looked surprised as Rajac ripped the door open. He opened his mouth, about to shout a cry, just as Rajac whipped his hand up, slapping against the guard¡¯s neck, cracking the vertebrae within. What the Circle taught him above all else was that any hesitation could spell his death. He would not make such a simple mistake in the first moments after his escape. Lowering the guard to the ground, Rajac pulled the short-sword from the guard¡¯s belt with a quick flourish. It was a fine blade, a few nicks here-and-there, but in good shape nevertheless. Stepping over the guard¡¯s slumped body, Rajac began to make his way up through the coliseum. There was no one there to meet him. It was the middle of the day in winter. Few, if any, would brave the winds to stand outside at this time of year. Rajac felt nothing, though. Years of acclamation to the elements had tempered his response to the freezing weather of Abria. As his long, dark hair tumbled in the wind, Rajac made his way to the top of the coliseum, looking over the edge. A small village lay a few miles distant. He thought it was called Kanrock, but he had little contact with others in the many years he had spent in the Circle. After all, he was the entertainment. No one wished him to speak; they only wanted him to kill or to die. Jumping down from a height that must have been thirty paces high, Rajac landed lightly on his toes, the ground caving in slightly at the impact. A calmness overtook him as he walked. The eagerness he had felt so long ago about finding his people was gone. It had been obliterated by the many years he had spent killing and training. Eagerness egged on the foolishness of his past. Logic was key in all situations. He had learned this at great expense. Muhal was the test that he failed entirely. But it was a test that hardened him. Refined who he was and made him better for it. He thought that if he met Muhal this very day, it was likely he would come out victorious. But, then again, he would not so recklessly fight him in the first place without knowing Muhal¡¯s limits. As he made his way to the village, Rajac passed a few closely knit farms that had a few Adras working them, huddled in their cloaks as they braved the cold. Adras were common in these parts. Rajac had seen them often in the Circle. They were a human variant race. Smaller than humans, they had a reddish-hue and thin, almost waspish faces. Rajac watched the Adras closely as he walked closer to the village. They held no fear or tension of any kind in their posture as they worked. Rajac would have thought differently. Abria was called a prison by many within the region. It was well known, once a person entered Abria, he never left. Then why are they so calm, Rajac mused as he walked. While there were weary expressions among the Adras, it was only from the hard work of plowing the fields; not due to fear over their imperious overlord. Rajac entered the village quietly. There wasn¡¯t even a guard at the entrance to the gate. He needed to find any information about the Ventros he could. But, he could not alert anyone to his presence. Looking down at himself, he saw the knotted scars that crisscrossed his body from years in the Circle and the thin rags that covered him. He looked no better than a beggar. That would have to change. Something with a hood would be preferable. He need something to hide his appearance. This close to the Circle, someone could put two-and-two together and recognize him, thus ending his rescue attempt before it began. The main street of the village was quite busy. Market stalls set up on either side of the small road were selling their wares as Adras, Elves, Humans, and numerous types of variant races roamed the street, though Adras were the most populous. Rajac skirted the road, attempting to not be noticed. It was hard. He looked remarkably different than the rest of the customers with his horns and rags. As he neared a small alleyway, he saw a rather large human wearing a fur cloak with a hood. A small smile touched his lips even as he felt disdain at what he was about to do. The man was ambling along, stopping here and there, buying a few bobbles of this and that but not really shopping for anything in particular it seemed. Rajac walked up next to the man, feigning ignorance, as he bumped into him. As the man turned towards him, an indignant look on his face, Rajac threw him bodily into the alleyway, hiding his action with his back. The man hit the side of the alleyway with a thump, collapsing instantly. Carefully, Rajac walked over to the man, removing the cloak and a small money pouch attached to his belt. The cloak was a brown fur, with a thick cotton interior. As Rajac draped it over himself, and threw the hood up, it felt very comfortable. The money pouch that was just an added bonus. As Rajac looked inside, he was surprised to see four gold inside. Chuckling to himself, Rajac walked back out onto the street, none the wiser. No longer having to hide his presence so completely, Rajac walked in the middle of the street, looking for a good place to find information. As he came to a small square, he saw a request board nailed into the ground. People were milling around it, casual reading requests and announcements made in the village. Rajac walked up to it, curious. There were notices of gatherings in the village, announcements of when the Circle held fights, requests to find lost pets, and wanted posters. Rajac began to thumb through wanted posters. If he was right, the Ventros surely would be on here. They were in the territory but rarely seen. And when they were, it was usually when they raided a village for supplies or a caravan for gold. Thus, they were not well liked. He had been on the receiving end of many crude remarks during his years in the Circle. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Ah, here it is. Rajac pulled on a faded and torn piece of parchment nailed to the wall of the board, ripping it free. Rajac read it carefully, not wanting to miss any of the details.
Request To Capture Dead Or Alive Ventros Vagabonds
The Village of Nahail requests an individual or individuals to capture dead or alive the Ventros Vagabonds. Their last known destination was to the north of our village. Approximate Number: 50 Warriors. Unknown Number of Civilians.
Reward
2 gold for every warrior captured. 1 silver for every civilian captured.
Rajac folded the request into his cloak, his heart thumping hard. They were out there and he knew an approximate location. Though, this request appeared to be from long ago and not fulfilled as it remained on the board. Were the Ventros in this region strong or were they just good at hiding? He hoped it was the former as he walked away from the board and towards a tavern on the other side of the square. He needed to find some current information on this request and the Ventros¡¯ location. Careful to make sure his hood hid his face, he walked into the tavern. It was a flat, unassuming building with a small front entrance that creaked slightly as Rajac entered. This early in the morning, only a few patrons occupied the tables. Most were eating with friends or relatives but none were drinking. The tavern owner, a wide-set Adras, with a thin mustache, looked on sullenly as his customers refused to order the source of his profits. Rajac walked up to him, his head lowered, and sat down at the bar, with a small sigh of relief. He had been walking all morning after all. Instantly, the tavern owner brightened. In a chipper voice, he said, ¡°What can I get you? Ale? Beer? Brandy?¡± ¡°Ale.¡± Rajac rasped in a low voice. Another precaution, even though he doubted it, it could be possible for some to recognize him just by his voice. The tavern owner raised his eyebrows in surprise at the deep voice but said nothing as he filled tankard. After a moment, he handed the tankard over to Rajac, whom began to drink greedily from it. It had been a long time since he had ale. Ever since he had been kept in the Circle. Time to find out some basic information. ¡°Tell me,¡± Rajac said slowly to the tavern owner, ¡°What is the year, the name of the province, and of this village. Also, what area of Vashin are we in? I¡¯m recovering from some nasty mind magic and my memories have been swirling for the past few days.¡± Rajac had no idea if there was such a thing as mind magic but it was plausible. The tavern owner thought so as he nodded speculatively. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re an adventurer.¡± ¡°Of sorts.¡± ¡°Ha.¡± The tavern owner chuckled. ¡°We get all sorts in here. Very well,¡± He said as Rajac passed over a silver coin for the drink and his trouble. Winking, the tavern owner pocketed the coin and said, ¡°The year is 29 R.E. Just turned into February in fact. We are in Kanrock Village in the province of Abria, ruled by the benevolent Lord Gaya. It is in the North-East, just beyond the Akiean Kingdom.¡± Rajac nodded. The tavern owner confirmed most of what he already knew. Though, it was a surprise to be so close to the Akiean Kingdom. His heart also sunk slightly with the confirmation that it had been nine years since he had seen his family. Little Nisa would be fourteen this year. He hid his laminations though. They could wait until he had time to further examine them. ¡°Thank you, my friend.¡± Rajac said gruffly. ¡°Though, I am curious, why do you call your lord benevolent?¡± The tavern owner blinked. ¡°Because he is. There is only one law and most aren¡¯t fool enough to break it. Compared to Abria, the other regions controlled by the God Races are nightmares to reside in.¡± The tavern owner eyed Rajac then. ¡°Though, as an adventurer, you must¡¯ve broken his law countless times. You¡¯re either strong enough to get past the guard or lucky enough to circumvent then.¡± Rajac shrugged uncomfortably. His fight with Muhal was not something he wanted to bring up. ¡°Suppose.¡± Rajac said. Attempting to change the subject, he pulled out the request and handed it over to the tavern owner. ¡°I came here because of this. I¡¯ve been searching for the Ventros in the surrounding regions for years now and this is the first I¡¯ve heard of them in quite some time.¡± Rajac lied smoothly. ¡°Oh hoho.¡± The tavern owner chuckled heartily. ¡°I¡¯ve met your ilk before, adventurer. Many come searching for them but I¡¯ve never heard of one actually being caught. Well,¡± he shrugged, ¡°Except that bloke over at the Circle.¡± Rajac ducked his head even lower. ¡°I¡¯ve come for information. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve heard of them last. This request is the most recent location I know even though it appears years old.¡± The tavern owner looked down at the request. ¡°Yes. Yes.¡± He murmured. ¡°Nahail is a few days north of here. I¡¯ve heard that they actually found out where the Ventros have been hiding. Though, that was years ago. I¡¯ve sent others in that direction but they never return.¡± Rajac hid his excitement as he said gruffly. ¡°And where is that?¡± ¡°There is a forest to the north west of Nahail. From here, you should be able to reach it within a week.¡± The tavern owner said as he handed back the request. ¡°Thank you.¡± Rajac said as he rose, clanging down his empty tankard. ¡°I wish you luck, my friend.¡± The tavern owner murmured as Rajac opened the door to leave the tavern. ¡°You¡¯re going to need it.¡± [/b][/b]
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1.2.7: The Forest Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 7 AUTHOR''S NOTE This might have to count for my friday chapter. I''ll try to get another chapter out tomorrow. Hopefully, I''ll have one. I think you will like this chapter though.
February 5, 29 R.E. Rajac left Kanrock Village as quietly as he had come. The organizers of the Circle had not even begun to look for him by the time he began to set a quick pace to the forest north of Nahail village. He bought a relatively detailed map of the region before he left which gave him a basic overview of how to find the forest. It was a rather small, but dense expanse. Too small to be named, yet large enough to be pictured on the map. It took only six days for Rajac to reach the edge of the forest. With the speed he had gained during his training, he could have made it in four-or-five days but thought that he would be spotted by one of the many guards who worked for Lord Gaya if he began to move at such speeds. Thus, he contented himself with his quick pace. He knew that whatever lay inside the forest was dangerous. Be it the Ventros or something else entirely, those the tavern owner had directed here never returned. And if they were adventurers like he professed to be, they were all at least moderately strong. So, as he arrived at the edge of the forest, caution won over eagerness and he drew his sword while keeping his magic only half-a-thought away. With a thought, he could call up a wall of earth and use the wind to move faster than humanly possible away from any assailants. Trees stood forbidding in front of him, half their leaves still crumpled on the ground from the winter freeze. A chill began to crawl up his back as he began to walk between the trees, kicking up the brush, and crunching the leaves into tiny pieces with each step. For hours, he walked in the forest. There was no path. Too few people walked in this expanse. The tall oaks of the forest began to look as if they were curving. Twisted in some evil design, the farther he walked in the forest, the trees began to hold an ominous portents. Every so often, Rajac thought he heard someone following him. The whisper of the wind breathed an odd sound, a hissing breath, a shuffle of footfalls, a grunt of pain; But when he turned, searching for the source, there was nothing. His caution began to turn into paranoia as day turned to night. Owls came out then. He never liked the creatures. Too many movies he saw as a kid, in his previous life, used them as foreshadowing in horror movies. After a while, his instincts became overwhelmed with the sense of danger and he decided to make camp for the night under a small oak. He pulled off his pack and began to eat some of the dried meat he had packed earlier. After he finished eating, he sat, unsure of what to do. It had been a very long time since he had thought of anything but training. His entire day revolved around increasing his skill. Without that construct in his daily life, it felt off somehow. When he was traveling, it was not truly apparent as he had a goal in mind. But now, sitting under this oak, listening to the myriad of owls, he felt somewhat empty. What would he do after he found his race? With his people rescued, though, he wasn¡¯t willing to make that a certainty just yet, he still had to bring them out of this prison-What would he do? Wander Thantos like some aimless adventurer? No, he did not think so. His purpose had become his people long ago. With them in a safe place, he would need to strengthen their position so nothing like this every happened again. The other peoples could sway his curiosity, once-in-a-while, but never hold his interest like the Ventros could. They had a story that spanned centuries. Once, a mighty race, renowned throughout the lands, they had become so much less due to their enemies. Perhaps, I¡¯ll go after those who caused my race¡¯s downfall, Rajac mused as he turned to a more comfortable position, pulling his hood over his head for padding, as sleep began to overtake him. His dreams were anything but peaceful as he slept in the eerie forest. When he woke, he felt haggard, drained even, but he continued. As it approached midday, he began to feel better but no less wary as he approached the center of the forest. His instinct that someone was following him grew stronger with every step; however, he never saw anyone. The forest grew thicker as he walked and darkness soon over took light. Branches began to spread out from greater oaks thickening until there was no longer any space to walk between the trees. Unable to find a path, Rajac began to hack away at the branches, forming his own path. He continued this for quite some time until he stumbled through an opening he had inadvertently created when beating at a particularly thick set of branches. He never got a good look at what lay beyond the opening as just as he began to rise, an arrow whizzed by his ear. Rajac fell flat to the ground, rolling over on his side. He felt, rather than saw, the second arrow hit the dirt where he had once lain. Jumping to his feet, he willed his magic to form a high and solid patch of dirt between himself and the direction the arrows were being shot from. Raising his sword in defense, Rajac called out defiantly, ¡°Come out you coward! Fight me!¡± Though, he really felt like whoever was attacking him had planned this rather well. He knew where to hide for the best strategic positioning and had known, beforehand, that Rajac would stumble through the thick branches, not knowing there was an opening on the other side. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Grinding his teeth in frustration, Rajac moved into The Delight of the Unknown, infusing it with wind, as he moved quickly to the edge of the clearing. As he reached the tree cover, he turned, stepping right into the Cadence of Jin. For a single moment, nothing happened .The air turned stale, the birds forgot to sing, the archer stayed silent, and Rajac remained ready. But, that was only for a moment. Five people, covered completely in grays and browns appeared as if they had popped straight up from the ground. Rajac blinked his eyes in surprise at the sight but readied himself all the same. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want,¡± Rajac told them calmly, ¡°But I am not here for a fight.¡± One of the fighters, a tall man by his shape, walked to the center of the clearing, his sword drawn at his side. ¡°Tell me foreigner,¡± the man said in a confident drawl, ¡°why come to this forest? I have never met a man, elf, or beast come to this forest for any peaceful reason.¡± The man bent slightly as he attempted to look under Rajac¡¯s hood. ¡°I am looking for the Ventros.¡± Rajac said, not elaborating. He had no idea what this man thought of his race. Though, it was probable he felt disdainful of them much like many others who lived in these parts. Thus, he kept his intentions hidden from these men. If they hated the Ventros, he could claim to be a bounty hunter searching for them and if they were friends of the Ventros, an unlikely possibility, but they were in the forest the Ventros supposedly called home, so it could be possible, Rajac would reveal his true intentions. However, Rajac never got that far. As soon as he uttered his race¡¯s name, all five of the figures took an involuntary step back as if wounded. ¡°You¡¯re the same as all the rest, I see.¡± The clad man said. ¡°You¡¯re here to capture and kill innocents.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m not,¡± Rajac interjected. ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± The clad man didn¡¯t let him finish. ¡°Yaka, Mahor, take him.¡± Two of the clad figures instantly darted forward, swords raised against him. Rajac stepped back into the Cadence of Jin, already ready for this possibility. Both attacked at the same time and they met in a clash of swords. As they pushed against him, his sword raised in defense, he felt only a little pressure to step back. But, he did not. Instead, he exerted in strength with a grunt, throwing them back a few paces. Rajac did not wait for them to settle themselves, he took a single step forward in Martyr¡¯s Fallacy and struck at them with a stream of fire. But, a wall of earth met his fire almost instantaneously, smothering it completely. The clad man walked up to Rajac slowly and said, ¡°Yaka, Mahor, step back, I will handle this.¡± Lowering his voice, the clad man said, ¡°You¡¯re better than I thought. Most who come, can¡¯t deal with my men. Only a few foreigners have had the opportunity to challenge me. You should be honored.¡± Rajac almost snorted at this archaic formality. He was so used to a kill or get killed mentality that an honorable challenge was laughable. The clad man attacked, striking at Rajac with the tip of his sword, but Rajac blocked it as he moved into the Delight of the Unknown. He moved the required 16 steps, circling around the clad man, before he began the Truth of the Many, attempting to box the clad man in. But, the clad man was having none of it. He ducked under one of Rajac¡¯s blows as he threw up a wall of earth, physically pushing Rajac back at step. The clad man charged once again, lancing fire on the tip of his sword as he thrust as Rajac, screaming a war cry. Rajac dodged, but not before being scratched by the tip of the man¡¯s sword. He let out a hiss of pain as the fire magic passed over him and he quickly summoned water elemental magic to sooth his pain. Straightening, Rajac quickly threw up a wall of earth as he moved back into the Cadence of Jin. The clad man had begun to attack once again. He ducked and dodged everything Rajac threw at him including all four of his elemental magics. Until, Rajac surprised him by raising a small wall of earth behind a large wall of earth. The clad man vaulted the larger wall but tripped on the smaller wall. Rolling back to his feet, he raised his sword defensively. ¡°You,¡± the clad man was gasping hard, ¡°Where did you learn those moves?¡± ¡°A book,¡± Rajac shrugged. ¡°But that ¡­¡± the clad man spluttered. ¡°That was the Ventros Sword Style.¡± ¡°Master!¡± One of the other men came up to the clad man. ¡°That is impossible.¡± The clad man nodded. ¡°Yes it is. Only our race¡­.¡±The clad man turned to Rajac then and for a long moment he studied Rajac, saying nothing. ¡°It¡­can¡¯t¡­be.¡± The clad man said slowly. Raising a hand to his face, the clad man began to untie the strips of cloth that covered his face. He hesitated every so often as if unsure if he should continue. But, he never stopped. Rajac felt his eyes almost pop out of his head as he saw what was underneath all the wrappings. Refined cheekbones, a high forehead, long black, almost purplish hair, with two long horns that reached towards the heavens. They were Ventros features.
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1.2.8: Reunion and Balance Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 8 AUTHOR''S NOTE I was able to get this chapter out today. It''s somewhat short but I''m really tired right now so this was the longest I could go. I should note that Demi-God is not a Race but rather a grouping of God Races. Specifically, Demi-Gods can be classified as Base, Lesser, or Common God Races There is a poll directly above this. Next week is busy for me and I will only be able to do a Wednesday and Friday chapter. But, if you are willing, I will hold all chapters until the week following and release the rest of Arc 1 (3 or 4 chapters) as one long chapter between Monday 4/13 and Wednesday 4/15. I am leaning towards the latter but you guys are the audience so I feel as if it should be your decision. PLEASE NOTE THE POLL
February 14, 29 R.E. Rajac could only stare at the man in perplexed bewilderment. A swirl of emotions began to tumble around inside of his head as he attempted to process this new information. Not knowing what else to do, Rajac yanked off his own hood, revealing the prominent horns affixed to his own head. The clad man only smiled, a triumphant gleam in his eyes; though, the rest of the Ventros, Rajac assumed they were at this point, took a step back in alarm. Ever since the clad man had revealed his own face, the other Ventros warriors had taken more aggressive stances, unsure of their ¡®master¡¯s¡¯ objectives. Now, though, with Rajac¡¯s face revealed, their aggressiveness sharpened dramatically. ¡°Master!¡± One of the men called dramatically. ¡°This man is an impersonator working for Lord Gaya. No Ventros exist outside of the sanctuary.¡± Another said, scornfully, ¡°At best he¡¯s a half-breed. Look at how tan his skin is.¡± It was true; Rajac¡¯s skin had deepened into the color of a light leather-hide during his time in the Circle. ¡°He does look different.¡± The clad man mused as he looked Rajac over. ¡°But, the centuries here changed us so it is only natural those who remained outside were changed as well.¡± The clad man paused. ¡°What happened to the rest of the clans? We have heard little of the outside world since we were brought here.¡± Rajac shrugged, still amazed by the turn of events. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I am of the Rashak clan and we number few. The rest of the clans were lost to us over a century ago.¡± ¡°A sad state, truly.¡± The clad man said shaking his head. ¡°Tell me, stranger, why have you come to our forest? It must have been difficult to travel this far from your homeland.¡± Rajac nodded his head and briefly told the gathered Ventros about his journey, revealing only the base details. His training, he left out. Though they were his people, trust was earned by actions, not blood. ¡°Remarkable.¡± The clad man said. ¡°You¡¯ve been mere days away for years and we never knew.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t like you could have known. You¡¯ve been in hiding for decades, at the very least.¡± The clad man¡¯s face turned ugly as his eyes flashed. ¡°Centuries, more like. Ever since we arrived here, Lord Gaya¡¯s men have attempted to round us up, like dogs. You¡¯ve seen how he treats the Greater and Epic Races; Contempt breeds in this place for ancient heritages. He attempts to tarnish ours while glorifying his own.¡± One of the other Ventros spit. ¡°He¡¯s only a Godly Lesser Race. I¡¯ve heard he¡¯s not even passed level 200 yet.¡± ¡°You say that if it is not a large accomplishment.¡± Rajac said. ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡± The clad man said. ¡°At least, for the Godly Races. They are born having already surpassed level 100 and, immortal, they have eons to gain strength. Gaya is young and brazen. He plays in the human world while his elders turn a blind eye to his antics.¡± Rajac just shrugged. Gods meant nothing to him and he doubts they ever would. In his past life, and this one, he had yet to see a being or beings that rightfully could hold the title. Many attempted to sway his belief their way; yet, all he could see was the faults in their creeds, the hypocrisy of their holy men, and the crassness of the professed deities towards all mortal men. ¡°Gods will play their games.¡± ¡°Ha. You better hope they didn¡¯t hear that.¡± The clad man laughed. Rajac shrugged once again. He wasn¡¯t worried any of the gods could hear or even see him. Due to Gaya¡¯s presence, the gods¡¯ omniscience was severely limited here. Changing the subject, Rajac said, ¡°Why do you still stay here? With your strength, you could easily forge a path out of this prison Gaya has constructed for you.¡± The clad man grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple, I¡¯m afraid. We warriors only number twenty.¡± Twenty? Rajac was sure the request had named the warriors fifty? Was it perhaps that the Ventros¡¯ extraordinary strength made Nahail over-exaggerate the numbers of the Ventros warriors? The clad man continued, ¡°But our three clans, Ishan, Teras, and Manos, number eight-thousand.¡± Rajac¡¯s eyes bugged out at the number. Eight-thousand Ventros still lived. An extraordinary amount of his people still lived. His heart began to well with an emotion he rarely felt-Relief. The clad man saw Rajac¡¯s expression and grinned, although there was a somewhat pained expression behind his eyes. ¡°Aye. There are eight-thousand of us left. Of course, for you, it¡¯s a large number, but for us, it¡¯s a small percentage of what we used to be. It¡¯s one of the reasons we guard our forest so fiercely against anyone who enters it.¡± Ruffling his hair uncomfortably, the clad man said, ¡°I think an apology is in order for that.¡± The clad man stuck out his hand, ¡°Temos.¡± Rajac readily accepted it, ¡°Rajac.¡± The day past joyfully as both shared stories and tales of their lives and of their people under the watchful eyes of Temos¡¯ five students. During the entire afternoon as Rajac and Temos ate by the fireside, the five never lost their steely gazes or hostile tones. Nothing Temos or Rajac said could dissuade their temperaments. As day fell to night, their light-hearted conversation began to turn to a more serious discussion on the state of the Ventros. ¡°Rajac,¡± Temos said for the dozenth time, ¡°I can¡¯t allow you into the sanctuary. No matter if you are a Ventros. Perhaps, because of that. The Council will not allow it.¡± ¡°But you have a seat on the Council.¡± Rajac protested. ¡°You said so yourself.¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Only one seat of five. Though,¡± Temos said, bowing his head slightly as he thought, ¡°I believe I can convey your purpose to them. The state of the Ventros has reached a point where any opportunity to increase our standing holds water. I believe I can convince the reset of the Council to leave the province. They fear Gaya. If your contact comes through, then I believe I can convince them it is a legitimate opportunity to get out from under his oppressive thumb.¡± Rajac felt contentment rise up inside him at Temos¡¯ words. It was finally happening. However, a lot had to be done before his people were truly safe. ¡°I believe he will.¡± Rajac said nodding. ¡°Alberon is an honorable man.¡± Frankly, Rajac had no idea if he was. Not that it mattered. By their very nature, Identity Merchants were inquisitive creatures. If Rajac messaged him, after all this time, of course he would come. ¡°Good.¡± Temos said, a splitting-grin on his face. Soon after, he and his five students left Rajac in the clearing for the night as they went to speak to the Council. They did not return until late the next day. But, the delay in their return was worth it. The Council had agreed to follow Rajac from the province and to his homeland on Cera Mountain. ~ Asur stirred. Something had occurred in the Mortal Realm. Something strange. He shook his head, bewildered. How did an event in the Mortal Realm reach him here? He was not even searching. Gods were rarely surprised and for Asur, this was a first. For millennia, he had kept his peace. Residing far away from the others who kept their Courts, he had secluded himself in mediation as he tried to overcome the barriers put on the Gods by the Overlord. He was near; he could feel a lessening of the barrier as he pushed through it like a knife cutting a slippery stick of butter. For a long moment, Asur pondered the reason the Mortal Realm could call to him now. Was it due to his training? Even he did not understand Thantos to its full extent. As he delved into a higher realm of understanding, could it be that his Omniscience became attuned to the human realm as a side-effect? Asur felt this development was troubling enough to the point where he ceased his training completely. Something he had not done since the Demi-Gods began their war to subjugate the human realm. He had left his sanctuary, built in an Ethereal Realm, high above the Mortal Realm, Immortal Realm, and Regas Realm, to deal with the miscreants that began to upset the balance in the Mortal Realm. It was the first and last time blood flowed from his hands as he decimated many of the elder Demi-Gods. His name had only been known to those in the Regas Realm where only the most ancient Greater and Epic Godly Races lived. They held unfathomable levels, yet, Asur far surpassed them. While the Gods had their king, Asur would have been their Emperor if he demanded such a title. But, he never did. Ruling never suited him and he only used the power that was there for his taking once. When the Demi-Gods reeked their havoc and Asur had to stop them before they destroyed the world itself, he forced the Gods to restrict their lessers to small pockets between the mortal kingdoms for all eternity. And his name, Asur, became synonymous was ¡®Tyrant¡¯, ¡®Red Eye¡¯, and ¡®The Highest.¡¯ Asur cared nothing for the titles the Gods threw at his feet and soon grew tired of their fascination with him. As soon as all within the Regas Realm signed his accords restricting the Demi-Gods, Asur returned to his realm to train in peace. Until now, that was. Whatever was happening in the Mortal Realm was so disruptive to the balance that he was alerted instantly to its occurrence. As Asur looked for the threat, he found a group of mortal men huddled around a campfire. Surprised, once again, Asur looked closer. Their fates were intertwined into a convoluted web that spoke of many things. But what was most prevalent was the symbol of an Ouroboros in all of their auras. It was not just one of them that would provoke the balance to shift but the entire race. Intrigued, Asur looked for the other members of this mortal race. They were only a few miles distant, huddled in those structures mortals like to build to keep warm. A vast array of movement met his eyes as he watched. Men, women, and children began to leave their hovels in droves until they formed a long, ant-like like away from their homes and towards the campfire. They are leaving their homes, Asur thought. This was what had caused the balance to shift so drastically. Why? What could a single mortal race do to so utterly change Thantos? Asur decided he would need to watch them further to better his understanding. He had time to decide their fate. His understanding told him the effect of this day would not be felt for a very long time. Perhaps, Asur would have already broken the limits of the Overlord by then. And then, the balance would matter not at all; he would no longer be limited by it. A smile touched his lips and he closed his eyes as he, once again, resumed his training.
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1.2.9: Leaving Abria Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 9 AUTHOR''S NOTE Here is the first chapter of the last of Arc 1. I decided that Arc 1 will end in two more chapters as I finally was able to get the story to go in a direction I wanted it to. Truthfully, the last three chapters are basically one long chapter. But, as you guys wanted the chapter earlier, this chapter ends in a cliff-hanger. Sorry guys! Also, Ark 2 will get super dark so it will be a lot of fun to read. If you guys could review my story, that would be great! http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666 Thanks!
February 17, 29 R.E. In a modest show of haste, the Ventros Race began their exodus from the place they had called home for well over five-centuries. With a long-lost brother at their head, they marched, solemn and spite-filled away from everything they knew. It was all due to the Ventros from the west. He was to blame. Rajac, he was called. Many muttered vile curses in his direction as he walked past speaking only with Temos; the only member of the Sanctuary who was civil towards him. His ways were not their own. He was a barbarian among the civilized. ¡®Look at that¡¯ one Ventros would call to another. ¡®The foreigner shakes with his hand! Is he trying to give us his diseases?¡¯ Many threw disgusted looks at Rajac as he passed after that but he paid them no mind. In his view, the Ventros were no better than lost puppies; those who were beaten enough would strike at anything and everything. He sighed as he walked beside Temos as they moved, in-mass, to the location Rajac and Alberon had set up almost a week prior. Alberon, of course, had been incorrigibly entertained by the idea of transporting eight-thousand Ventros out from under the nose of a Demi-God. However¡­Rajac ground his teeth in frustration. There was a problem. A gigantic cluster-fuck of one. Alberon only had enough strength to transport one-hundred people at a time. In Alberon¡¯s own estimation, it would take one-to-two hours to transport everyone. Lord Gaya, the benevolent ass-clown that he is, stationed all his soldiers on the borders of his province rather than police it like the ¡®benevolent¡¯ ruler he claims to be. The Council, another bunch of ass-clowns in Rajac¡¯s opinion, besides Temos that was, claimed it was because Gaya had no wish to allow any of the Greater or Epic Races to leave the province as they were his only source of entertainment. Apparently, because Gaya was rather weak in the terms of Gods, he did not have the strength to step outside of his territory. Thus, to pass the time, he used the mortal races as a source of entertainment. And who would want their toys to suddenly get up and leave? Rajac thought this way of thinking ridiculous but it was all he had to go on. Gaya was a mystery to him and the Council, for all their faults, had spent centuries living in his presence. But for a Demi-God to act so¡­childish? It was a bizarre idea. But all the facts led to that single conclusion. Why else would the Commander have ordered Rajac¡¯s capture, why had he seen no soldiers anywhere within the province, and how did the Ventros stay hidden all these years if not for the absence of soldiers. It would have been rather easy for Gaya to order a hundred men to scour the forest where they were rumored to be hidden and destroy the whole race in one fell swoop. But, it appeared Gaya was more interested in keeping his ¡®toys¡¯ within the province than actually governing it. And while it helped the Ventros avoid detection, it had now become a huge obstacle the Ventros migrants would have to overcome. Truthfully, Rajac and Temos, who had been discussing the subject endlessly, had few ideas how to deal with the soldiers. The problem, as they saw it, was that the Ventros civilians would be left in the open as Alberon transported them. There was little doubt soldiers would find them as outposts were littered throughout the countryside; however, there would be no more than twenty to a unit though the Squad Leader was usually a Godly Base Race which was on par with a Greater Race but with a few added perks. The soldiers would no doubt attack the Ventros civilians as soon as they saw them, messaging for backup as they did so. Gaya¡¯s soldiers weren¡¯t too bright as Gaya valued loyalty over intelligence. Thus, it was likely the soldiers, numbering only twenty, would attack the eight-thousand Ventros before backup arrived. This would, undoubtedly, inflict high-casualties among the populace as Alberon attempted to transport all of them. Something, Rajac and Temos had been attempting to avoid all day but they saw no way to do so. If Rajac, Temos, and his men, attempted to intervene, then it was likely a few of them would die in the process. This would be disastrous as the next unit of soldiers was only half-an-hour¡¯s run away. Going by Alberon¡¯s time, the Ventros would have to face two to four units of soldiers before the end of the day. If the ¡®warriors¡¯ fought against the first group, it was likely the warriors losses would increase exponentially until none were left by the end of the day. This would be disastrous for the Ventros¡¯ long-term chances as a race without warriors was no better than fresh meat for any who wanted to conquer them. And so, Rajac, Temos, and his men became more depressed as they day wore on as they approached their destination. They lamented the decision they had to make even as the people cursed their names. Rajac was insulted the worst as many saw this as his idea. The rest of the Council included. Many knew they would die this day and blamed it all on him. Rajac, himself, thought they had some merit to their claims as he walked silently next to Temos. If he had not come to their forest, they would still be living there. True, it would be in hiding but they would all still be alive. After today, well, it would be likely his name would be tarnished with these people forever. But, if that is what it took to save them and his future, he was willing to pay the price. The front of the line bowed outwards as the destination came into sight. Like much of the land within Abria, their destination was percolated with hills and surrounded by a large, dense forest on either side. Rajac and Temos hurried to the front of the migrants as they looked for Alberon in their midst. He was just in the center of the clearing talking to the other members of the Council. Craggy Halworn Ishan, his cousin Benedict Ishan who carried a similar disposition, Geria Talworn, and Kalfor Manos. As Rajac and Temos approached, all four faded into the masses with incredible skill. Alberon walked up to Rajac. With a grin on his face, he said, ¡°It appears you are not well like here.¡± Rajac gave a small, controlled smile back. ¡°It is as it seems. It has been a long time Alberon.¡± ¡°Ha. Indeed, it has. You¡¯ve been busy while you were away.¡± ¡°True.¡± Raising a hand to Temos, Rajac said, ¡°This here is Temos Manos. Leader of the Ventros warriors and the fifth member of the Council.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Alberon said in recognition. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of you. The other members of the Council have been griping about your decision to slaughter your people like cattle.¡± Temos grimaced, his usually gregarious nature, turning sour. ¡°They never learn when to be silent.¡± He muttered. Speaking louder, he said, ¡°I thought of the future while they care too much about the present. If all of our warriors die here, who would protect their cowards¡¯ hide in the future?¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°That is indeed the best possible course. The Western Territories are no picnic to live in though Cera Mountain is as safe as you can get.¡± Alberon said, contemplative. Just then, one of Temos¡¯ students ran up to him, out of breath. ¡°Master!¡± He called out. ¡°Yaka has seen the patrol unit approaching!¡± ¡°Alberon!¡± Rajac barked. His voice was as taught as a bow-string. ¡°Begin the transportation. Start with the children. Leave the elderly for last.¡± Alberon hesitated at that last order before nodding and heading off to gather the children. ¡°You will leave the elderly to their deaths?¡± Temos growled as they ran through the panicked masses who were reading weapons made out of whatever they had carried with them. ¡°They will be of great use in the last stages of this battle.¡± Rajac had already thought on this greatly; however, he had not shared his views with Temos until now. He was sure Temos would have rejected the idea out of hand, disregarding its logical application. If the warriors only aided the civilians during the last stages of the battle as planned, then the warriors would be the last group to leave; this would almost certainly spell the deaths of the whole group. Transportation requires an individual or group to stay completely still as they are transported as to not disrupt data streams. If the warriors had to fight the fourth group of soldiers while being transported, they would undoubtedly die either through a sword through the gut or the corruption of the data stream. The elderly were the perfect obstacle. Well, not perfect but suitable to the purpose Rajac would require of them. They would, of course, have to agree to what Rajac planned. If they did not, who would protect the Ventros in the future after they had long passed into the afterlife? With no warriors and their knowledge lost forever, the elderly would all but be condemning the Ventros to an early extinction. Temos ground his teeth, his jaw working but he said nothing. There was nothing to say. In a battle, decisions had to be made. If they lived through this, then, and only then, could blame be tossed around like a well-used matron? Rajac saw the soldiers now. They were running full pelt at the curved and unsteady line of Ventros civilians who had raised weapons above their shaking knees. At this distance, Rajac could not definitively see who led the soldiers that were now plowing into the civilians like they were made of butter but he thought he saw the Squad Leader in their midst. He had refined humanoid features with long, flowing black hair. But, it did not matter in the end what he looked like. His twenty men crashed into the eight-thousand civilians with all the gusto of the foolhardy. Men and women flew through the air with bent and broken bodies at their charge; however, even as their massacre began, it ended. Their charge which was so ferocious that it cleaved a pathway straight into the civilians center, ground to an immediate halt as they met Temos¡¯ students who were the last line of defense. The four of them impeded the progress of the soldiers just enough for the civilians to regain their footing and begin to bludgeon the soldiers to their deaths. It was a nasty business. Even as Temos and Rajac arrived on the scene, a few citizens were continuing to beat at the crushed skull of the Squad Leader. His long, black hair was matted with a fine misting of brain as blood squirted into the air, every so often, as one of the more maniacal civilians thrust as make-shift weapon into the dead man¡¯s, for he was a man, skull. Over the next half-an-hour, Alberon was able to send through a little less than three-thousand of the civilians including the Council. Five-thousand defenders met the second wave of soldiers who were a little more cautions than their predecessors. This time, the soldiers broke off in two waves as they attempted to box in the civilians while they waited for the third grouping of soldiers. However, with Temos commanding, the civilians attacked the soldiers head on. The civilians¡¯ losses were staggering. For every soldier they brought down, the civilians lost twenty men. But, the civilians were desperate. An undulating cry rose from them every time they killed a soldier. Their losses meant nothing as long as they could leave their centuries forced imprisonment. Rajac continued to wait patiently, separated from the citizens. By Alberon¡¯s pace, the third grouping would be the last. He watched Temos lead the citizens in decapitating the second grouping¡¯s Squad Leader. With an ear-splitting grin, Temos raised the head into the air as the civilians gave him a hero¡¯s ovation. Rajac chuckled to himself as he watched Temos. The man could not help himself. Even as he commanded Rajac and his own men to stay put, he went out to lead the civilians in their charge. Well, it wasn¡¯t like he had much choice, Rajac thought. With the Council deciding to be transported early, he was the only leader left the Ventros had to look to. Another half-an-hour passed quickly. Just as the third grouping of soldiers broke through the trees, Alberon had been able to transport all but two-thousand of the Ventros. Nine-hundred of those were warriors and elderly. Overall, the Ventros had lost five-hundred civilians already in the days fighting. One warrior perished in the second charge when he defied Temos¡¯ orders and attempted to fight a soldier one-on-one and lost. Rajac walked up to Temos who was sweating from his day¡¯s exertion. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that.¡± Temos said gruffly as Rajac frowned, disapproving of Temos¡¯ disregard of the entire plan. ¡°If you just followed the plan¡­¡± Rajac said anyways. He was never allowed to finish as a great bellow rose from the forest¡¯s edge. ¡°MORTAL RACE, I HAVE A SIGNED EDICT FROM THE LORD ADVISING YOU OF YOUR CRIMES AND PRE-DETERMINED DEATH! COME AND MEET MY AXE!¡± Fear ran through the remaining civilians. ¡®Did he say mortal race?¡¯ ¡®Is he a God¡¯ ¡®Is he Lord Gaya¡¯ ¡®We¡¯re all going to die!¡¯ There was a mass stampede towards where Alberon was transporting the civilians. Rajac, Temos, and the warriors ignored them for now. Alberon could handle the civilians. Though, Rajac thought he might have some trouble ignoring the elderly all-together. Shaking his head, Rajac put it out of his mind. He needed to focus on the fight at hand. ¡°Do we go forward or wait here for him?¡± Rajac asked Temos. After a moment, Temos said, ¡°Go forward.¡± Temos looked back at the civilians who were being shouted at by a red-faced Alberon. ¡°Having the fight so close will only allow chaos to fester behind our backs.¡± With a nod of agreement, Rajac followed Temos and his men forward to do battle with a Demi-God. A idle thought floated across his mind as he crossed the bloody field. His clean, brightly polished sword shone in the light. A swift breeze ruffled his long, dark hair, sweeping it across his body. If one attuned to the forces of the world looked hard enough, he could feel a shifting this day. A pebble in the oceans of fate created a small ripple that would, in time, form into a massive rip-tide obliterating everything in its wake.
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1.2.10: Kalos Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 10 AUTHOR''S NOTE 1 more chapter in Arc 1! Also, another cliff-hanger. Sorry! The final chapter to arc 1 may be out sunday. Please note the small note at the bottom of the chapter.
February 17, 29 R.E. ¡°Temos,¡± Rajac said as they walked, straight-backed, swords unsheathed as they readied for the fight, ¡°We must finish this quickly.¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± Temos nodded. ¡°Even though he is a Demi-God,¡± Temos grimaced at that and spit to one side, cursing their luck, ¡°We must finish this before too many casualties arise. Alberon will have finished transporting all but the elderly very soon and they will have to serve the clans one last time before they move onto the afterlife.¡± They had eighteen men at their backs and they numbered twenty in total. Counting the Demi-God, the unit of soldiers fanning out from the tree-line numbered eighteen. The Demi-God was a tall, strutting humanoid creature. His skin had an obsolescent sheen that contemplated his refined musculature to create a formidable figure. Truth be told, Rajac felt a twinge of fear as he gazed in the Demi-Gods shining, black eyes. ¡°HUAH!¡± The Demi-God cried, raising a gigantic war-axe into the sky. Rajac could have sworn the heavens themselves cowed before this behemoth. Birds of all shapes and sizes took flight in fright. They scoured the sky with their flapping wings and cawing beaks. ¡°Gods above.¡± Temos breathed. ¡°We have to fight that thing.¡± He thumbed his sword nervously as his men looked on anxiously, their pace moving to an obvious crawl. Rajac narrowed his eyes. He did not like the situation any more than Temos but the Demi-God and his men were an obstacle in his path. He had almost completely succeeded in transporting his race to a safer location. No one would stand in his way. Not even a Demi-God. ¡°Tell me,¡± Rajac said, as he gripped his sword tightly in one fist, ¡°This Demi-God, do you know him? Is he strong?¡± Temos flicked his tongue between his lips as he thought, some of the worry he had been showing dissipated, as he considered Rajac¡¯s question. ¡°No. I don¡¯t know him. But, he is not Lord Gaya. Gaya, even as weak as he is compared to other Gods, has an overwhelming presence. While this Demi-God has a fearsome presence, it is not on the level of Lord Gaya¡¯s. And his strength,¡± Temos said considering, ¡°I do not know if I have the ability to judge that. Gods¡¯ strength can be compared to mortals but it is rather difficult. If I had to judge, I would say this Demi-God is a Godly Base Race. Though, he has immortality and a few other racial attributes that have magnified his strength to a level no mortal Greater Race could ever achieve. ¡°Hmph.¡± Rajac said scowling. ¡°His strength means nothing if he does not know how to use it. Look at him,¡± Rajac called to Temos¡¯ men. ¡°He lumbers around like a great ox as he swings that might axe of his. There are no thoughts within his head other than where to shit, what to kill, and how to eat.¡± Temos and his men chuckled lightly at that and more than a few perked up. Rajac could see, in their eyes, their fear had begun to wane. Though, some still clutched their weapons too tight as their faces shone with sweat. ¡°Temos, you and I shall take the Demi-God together.¡± Rajac said as the Demi-God and his men began to charge towards the Ventros warriors with fervor in their eyes. Temos nodded solemnly as he readied himself in the Cadence of Jin. ¡°HAHA! MORTALS PREPARE, FOR I KALOS AM YOUR DEMISE!¡± Kalos, the Demi-God called out as his men, clad in heavy armor, ran after him, shouting triumphantly before the battle even began. ¡°Men!¡± Temos called out confidently. Rajac could see a hint of sweat around Temos¡¯ brows as he continued, showing no sign of his nervousness, ¡°Jintac Formation!¡± Jintac Formation? Rajac raised his eyebrows in surprise. Is this a modification of the Cadence of Jin for group battle? Rajac decided he would have to investigate the matter as he settled into the Cadence of Jin. ¡°Rajac,¡± Temos murmured as the Demi-God quickly approached, ¡°Your Sadat? Is it a Greater Artifact? If it is not, I have a spare.¡± Temos pulled a gigantic sized Sadat out of his pocket. It was much larger than the one Rajac had once been given by Thron. Smirking, Rajac shook his head. ¡°I have no need for a Sadat.¡± Rajac said as he stepped to the side avoiding a blow from the first of the Demi-God¡¯s soldiers to arrive. Kicking the elf in the back of his knee, Rajac used the leverage to push himself forward straight into the path of the Demi-God, cutting him off from the rest of the Ventros. Stepping directly into Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, Rajac shot a burst of Fire Elemental Magic at Kalos. Kalos, surprised, took the blow full on in the face. It did not faze him in the slightest this. ¡°OH!¡± He grinned maliciously. ¡°A MORTAL HAS DECIDED TO CHALLENGE ME EVEN BEFORE I BEFORE THE BATTLE HAS TRULY BEGUN!¡± That was not technically true. The Ventros warriors, even now, were beginning to engage the soldiers as Alberon was shooing the reluctant elderly to the forefront of the battle; armed as they were with sharpened sticks and other makeshift weapons, it was surprising to many of the professional soldiers and warriors that the elderly did not, en-mass, turn in the opposite direction of the blood already being shed. But, more was at risk than this small border skirmish. The very future of the Ventros race required the warriors to make it out this skirmish alive. And so, the elderly went into the fray, their frail forms striking the battle-hardened soldiers with as much strength as they could muster. Cries of alarm began to rise among the soldiers as the Ventros warriors and the nearly nine-hundred elderly began to swarm around the seventeen soldiers. Rajac, however, had little idea of the events occurring behind his back. Rajac and Temos, who had joined him, were fighting a deadly dance with an enraged Demi-God. Kalos charged, unbidden by the two Ventros facing him. Each had a sturdy wall of earth erected six-paces high directly in front of them as they attempted to impede Kalos¡¯ blow. However, he was too strong. His mighty axe, a silver-hune weapon that shone like starlight, cut straight through the walls both had erected, cleaving them in two. Rajac and Temos moved together into Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, shooting flames at the opening in Kalos¡¯ defense. Kalos roared as the flames neared his exposed body and he erected a spinning shield of diamond in mid-air that deflected the Fire Elemental Magic into the battle at their backs. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Neither Rajac nor Temos had the time to look at the epic scale of destruction their fire magic had caused both within the soldiers¡¯ and elderly¡¯s ranks. ¡°Shit!¡± Rajac growled. ¡°He has Auxiliary Magic.¡± Annoyed at this revelation, Rajac called over to Temos who had moved into the later-half of the Cadence of Jin as he avoided a blow from the Demi-God. ¡°Temos! Did you know he could use Auxiliary Magic?¡± For a few seconds, Temos did not answer as both he and Rajac attacked Kalos again-Temos with Martyr¡¯s Fallacy and Rajac with Stepping Stones. As Rajac slammed his blade into Kalos¡¯ war-axe, chipping the iron in numerous places, Temos struck Kalos in the gut causing the giant Demi-God to roar with pain. Instantly, Kalos slammed a diamond shield between them forcing both Rajac and Temos back. Both were breathing heavily from the skirmish as they once again, readied themselves in the Cadence of Jin. ¡°Its..because¡­¡± Temos huffed. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­know. Most¡­Demi-Gods¡­don¡¯t have the ability to create Auxiliary Magic.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­shitty¡­luck for¡­us.¡± Rajac said just as Kalos, who held a hand to his bleeding wound, twisted his face up into a snarl and said, ¡°YOU WOUNDED ME! I HAVE FOUGHT A HUNDRED-HUNDRED WARRIORS AND NEVER HAVE I BEEN EMBARRASSED SO. ALL OF YOU WILL DIE HERE THIS DAY.¡± And with that, Kalos charged forward, his axe to bear, completely bypassing Rajac and Temos who stood stunned with the speed Kalos thundered past. His objective was made plain only moments later as howls began to emanate from the battle at their backs. The battlefield was already littered with corpses. Many were from the struggle between the soldiers and Ventros warriors and elderly; however, there were two long scorched paths littered with the bodies of soldiers and elderly caused by the Fire Elemental Magic. Kalos was making a third path with that axe of his. Roaring his defiance, he chopped this way and that, cleaving any who stood in his path into mushy pieces, be they soldiers, warriors, or elderly. Even before Rajac or Temos could take a step, a cry rose from above the melee. ¡°Retreat! Retreat! To me! To me!¡± It was Alberon. He was standing just behind the scrum, his hands to his lips as he repeated his call. ¡°Retreat! To me! Ventros!¡± Rajac and Temos looked at each other. They both knew they had to answer his call. He was their only hope of making it out of this mess alive. Both of them raced towards Alberon just as Kalos turned, finally hearing Alberon. Snarling, the Demi-God screamed, ¡°NO ONE WILL BE LEAVING!¡± The Ventros warriors, only ten remained at this point, had already disengaged from the soldiers and were just reaching Alberon as Kalos began to run at the Identity Merchant. He was faster, much faster than either Rajac or Temos. Kalos quickly outpaced both of them as all three raced towards the Identity Merchant at full pelt who, by now, had a frantic expression on his face as he beckoned to the warriors, Rajac, and Temos to hurry. The Ventros warriors reached Alberon and relief washed over their faces. As all ten men touched Alberon, they vanished, leaving only clear sky and grass behind. Kalos howled in frustration as his prey was able to get away and Rajac and Temos stopped their strides, shocked beyond belief that Alberon would abandon them like that. ¡°What¡­what do we do now?¡± Temos asked, a haunted look in his eyes. ¡°All that we can do.¡± Rajac said, his mood dampened by the fact that there was no escape. ¡°Kalos will try to kill us all.¡± And so he tried. Kalos, in a fit of rage, turned on the Ventros elderly and his own soldiers butchering every last one of them. Even as Rajac and Temos tried to incapacitate him, Kalos shrugged off the injuries their swords caused as he attempted to eradicate each and every last one of the living mortals within the clearing. So it was, like it had been in the beginning, Rajac and Temos faced Kalos alone on the battlefield. All parties were beaten and bloody from the day of fighting; Kalos more than the others. ¡°HA, TO THINK IT HAS COME TO THIS.¡± Kalos lamented as he charged once again. He immediately raised his diamond shield to counter Rajac¡¯s thrust as he struck at Temos. Temos danced to the side avoiding most of the blow as the axe struck the ground with a massive impact. Temos was thrown fifteen paces in the air by the impact, his arm a mangled mess. He landed near the forest¡¯s edge and did not rise again. A groaning, creaking sound arose from beneath Rajac and Kalos¡¯ feet. Both had looks of surprise as the ground caved in completely, leaving them in the middle of space. Gravity took full effect a split-second later as both began to tumble down into the blackness below. I will not survive this without something to cushion my fall, Rajac thought as he tumbled in midair, a mere hand-span from Kalos. Rajac looked directly into the Demi-God¡¯s eyes and it appeared Kalos had the same revelation. Both reached out towards the other at the same time. Kalos took a hold of Rajac¡¯s neck with two meaty fists just as Rajac looped an arm under Kalos¡¯. Pulling himself forward with all his strength, he broke Kalos¡¯ hold and twisted himself so his chest was directly on Kalos¡¯ back. He clutched himself tightly to Kalos even as the Demi-God tried to wrench him away with scrabbling fingers. As Kalos was finally able to get a firm grip on one of Rajac¡¯s hands, Rajac felt a thundering pain, and the world went black.
AUTHOR''S NOTE I wanted to note Auxiliary Magic is very uncommon. Only a few Greater and Epic Races have the ability to create it below level 300 and Demi-Gods usually have a special Tertiary Magic that their race uses. It''s only the common and above gods who have the ability to create Auxiliary Magic at a greater frequency. So Kalos having access to Auxiliary Magic was quite a surprise as it made him much stronger than an ordinary Goldy Base race below level 200. Also, Auxiliary Magic was one of the primary reasons Ventros Sword Style masters were so renowned on the continent.
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1.2.11: A Dark Expanse Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 11 AUTHOR''S NOTE Arc 1 is finished! Though I might change it to ''Arc 2'' having the growing up arc, Arc 1. A few notes about this chapter. This chapter is really dark and I think a turning point in the story. Not a great one but more of a divergence. The next Arc will have much more action in it so be prepared. This chapter can also be considered the prologue for the next arc so don''t be worried that the first third is not from Rajac''s perspective. I will not do this often but it was necessary here. Also there are a few other things I need to note. I will not have a chapter until Friday as I have many organizational things I have to do for the story such as proofing/story line writing/information improving. One thing I will look into this week, as it had been brought up, is that my story summary is rather vague. I already have one suggestion about what it should be. If any of you want your ideas for the summary considered, please message me or put it in the comments. Also anything you want to know about the story that can be provided WITHOUT revealing plot details go to the Q/A page. Thanks!
February 17, 29 R.E. Muhal rode quickly to the reported site where a Greater Race was attempting to escape. His unit of twenty men, rode quickly behind him. In the nine years since he had fought Rajac, Muhal had made a name for himself in Lord Gaya¡¯s service. While he had once been a member of the lowly border guard, he had steadily risen through the ranks until he began to join the expeditionary forces in the border skirmishes against the other Demi-God armies within the area. Over time, he even rose to squad leader of one of those units. And now, Muhal spit disgusted, his squad had been utterly routed. The forty men who had numbered it that morning had been halved. Lord Gaya would not be merciful. Not this time. Muhal had lost to a squad of Edthar¡¯s, Gaya¡¯s rival. Muhal had heard many stories over the years about what happened to those who displeased Gaya greatly. None of them had pleasant endings. And when the story concerned Edthar, Muhal shivered internally, they were even worse. But, as his squad was riding back, already accepting their fate, they had intercepted a messenger sent by Kalos, Squad Leader of the Fourth Squad of the Third Commandant of the Third Army of the Border Guard. It reported that the Ventros had finally had come out of hiding and were making their escape en-mass. If true, it was possible, only barely, that Muhal could gain favor with Gaya who might suspend their fates. ¡°You three,¡± Muhal called as they reached the battlefield, ¡°search for survivors.¡± Three of his men rode off into the conflagration of carrion and broken bodies. Muhal jumped off his horse, excitement coursing through him. Had the Ventros truly made it? There were broken bodies all around. Many of them looked like old Ventros by their sagging faces and limbs. Had the Ventros decided to sacrifice their elderly? A small, cruel smile touched his lips. How cold. His heart began to warm towards this weaker race. They had nothing on his Epic Race however. The Rajin were well known in the right circles for their prowess on the battlefield while these Ventros, their day had come and past long ago. Though, that Ventros I sent to the Circle, he was a worthy opponent, Muhal mused as he walked the battlefield turning over bloody bodies as he checked for any living souls. He was disappointed that he had not arrived sooner. If he had, he would have been able to turn the tide of this disaster. But now, every man who failed to stop the Ventros here would have their families, friends, and, if they were ranking officers, their acquaintances executed publicly to make a point. After two decades of serving Lord Gaya, Muhal knew how the Demi-God thought well enough. And Gaya did not take failure well. As Muhal came to the center of the clearing he saw a cluster of his men talking animatedly looking down at their feet. Annoyed that they were not performing their duties, Muhal strode up to them angrily. ¡°What in the bloody hell do you think you are doing?¡± The soldiers jumped to attention. ¡°Sorry sir!¡± One of them called as Muhal walked up, ¡°But just look for yourself. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡± Muhal pushed passed his men to get a good look at what lay at their feet. His eyebrows rose in surprise, as he gazed down at the gigantic whole in the center of the clearing. It was massive; nearly twenty paces wide, the hole looked to go on forever. Muhal craned his neck down looking into the black expanse. Chills ran through him as he strained his eyes trying to glimpse the bottom of the pit. If I fell down there, I would not survive, Muhal thought perturbed. ¡°Sir!¡± One of his men called from near the forest that lay on the edge of the clearing. Muhal backed away from the pit while not eagerly, not reluctantly either. ¡°Yes?¡± Muhal said an edge to his voice. The man flinched as he approached with another one of the soldiers, dragging a body between them. Fear, Muhal thought, was the greatest compliment a commander could be given. If his subordinates feared him, then they would never disobey his commands. It made for a tight, regimented squad who would be willing to do whatever it took to complete his orders. In Muhal¡¯s opinion, fear was preferable to loyalty as loyalty could change with seasons while fear proved to be longer lasting. The soldiers, eyes downcast, walked closer, stumbling slightly as they lifter the body for Muhal to see. A Ventros, his horns long and jutting, a young face, covered by a bloody mask. ¡°Why bring me a dead man?¡± Muhal asked as he noticed the long, jagged cut that had nearly decapitated the Ventros. ¡°He¡¯s still alive. ¡®Says his name is Temos.¡± One of the soldiers said. Muhal felt a grin cross his face as hope rose within him. Perhaps Lord Gaya would indeed spare Muhal if he brought this Ventros to him. And if this man knew where the rest of the Ventros were headed, it might even be worthy of a promotion. ¡°Heal him.¡± Muhal commanded. ¡°Come!¡± He called turning to the rest of his men. ¡°We must bring this man to Lord Gaya. He will want word of the race that broke his law!¡± Clambering onto his horse, Muhal led his men away from the clearing, the despair in his heart long forgotten. ~ Rajac awoke and screamed, pain his only emotion. The sound was muffled as his mouth was impeded by a substance that was both wet and coarse. He tried to rise but his arms and legs screamed in pain as he tried to use them. He opened his eyes attempting to see his surrounding but all he saw was darkness, except¡­except¡­He felt something under him. Kalos. That was it. The Demi-God was under him. Was he dead? Was that why he remained still? Rajac waited, listening for the sound of breathing. He heard only silence. He had killed a Demi-God, an unheard of feat. It had happened before but only in the ancient stories more myth than fact. Gods were immortal, all-powerful being who, from the very start, were stronger than most mortals could ever become. Only the few who were considered geniuses of geniuses were able to complete this feat. But Rajac was not one of them. Even if any who saw the fight lived, they would have said Rajac and Temos lost this fight. Kalos won. It was only a lucky move and the impact of the earth that killed the Demi-God. Rajac had been lucky, if you could call it that. He tried to flex his limbs once again and only felt a searing pain. All of his limbs had been broken by impact. And so, he was stuck on Kalos¡¯ back, unable to move, in a cavern that had appeared like shrouded mist. It would be months before his limbs healed well enough for him to walk and search for a way out. Until then, Rajac would have to find a way to survive in this prone form. Rajac shivered at the prospect. He would have to survive the days, weeks, and months without food or water. An impossible task. Water, he would need within days and food, within weeks. But his limbs were so badly mangled by the fall; they had to remain stable if they were to heal. Though, he needed to make splints somehow. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Rajac coughed slightly as Kalos¡¯ hair coated with matted blood entered his mouth. The hair, slick with blood, unexpectedly eased his thirsty throat. Immediately, though, he wretched at what he had just done. After a few minutes, he felt like all the contents of his stomach had emptied onto Kalos¡¯ head. He felt most of the sick dribble down to the soil below, affected by the curvature of the Demi-God¡¯s head. Gods above, did he really have to resort to using Kalos as sustenance to survive? He let out a laugh. It was maniacal in nature as he felt utter disgustion at the necessity and gratefulness that he would not perish due to starvation or dehydration in this dark tomb. At least, I¡¯m not Temos, Rajac thought. He immediately sobered as he thought of his friend, struck dead by Kalos¡¯ blow. Temos had been a good man. One of the few Rajac had known either in this life or his last. With him, Rajac felt the Ventros could have gone far. But the Council, they were another matter. He felt they were more bureaucrats than leaders. And the way Alberon left Temos and Rajac to die, Rajac felt anger began to bubble in his heart. Though, it mattered little at the moment. If he could not survive in this cavern, then there would be no goals to reach, objectives to complete, or obstacles to overcome. Closing his eyes, Rajac readied himself for the pain he would have to feel in order for him to heal properly. There was only one way to do so in his condition. Gritting his teeth, he raised his arms, feeling the utter pain that coursed through him but overcoming it all the same. Survival was the only thing that mattered at the moment and temporary pain meant nothing if he could not obtain that baser desire. For a second, he held his arms above the earth, dreading what he would have to do; but that second passed quickly and when it did, Rajac pushed hard against the soil, flinging himself back with all his strength. Pain lanced through his arms and he tumbled down to Kalos¡¯ legs, barely able to keep himself awake, the pain was so great. But he had succeeded. He wormed himself closer to one of Kalos¡¯ legs until he rested his onto the massive appendage. Willing himself silently, Rajac tore the thin cotton that covered the leg exposing the skin beneath. Then, he opened his mouth wide and chomped down. Blood and meat squirted into his mouth congealing there. He had to chew slowly as he tried not to gag from the taste, smell, and overall implications of what he was doing. Time passed as he sustained himself on that leg. He had no idea how long it had been. Darkness consumed his waking world as he lay there waiting until he grew famished enough to consider eating any more flesh. His thoughts consumed his waking hours as he remained prone on the soil, unable to move. Had the Ventros arrived on Cera Mountain? How was his family? Did they know he was alive? Would Lord Gaya send men after his race? This pattern continued until one ¡®day¡¯ came when there was no flesh left on the leg or thigh bones. Rajac, clumsily, used his teeth to fashion splints for both of his arms using the remnants of the cotton pants Kalos had been wearing. Reluctantly, he had rolled himself over to the other leg and began to use it in the exact same way. More time passed as his arms slowly began to heal to a point where he could flex them without pain. He continued to sustain himself on the leg until there was no meat on this leg either. Again, he fashioned two splints from the leg and thigh bones. It was many more ¡®days¡¯ before he could haltingly stand without pain and many more after that before he felt his strength began to return to his limbs. Rajac began to wonder around the cavern searching for an exit; however, it was so dark that he could not go far; otherwise, he would lose his only source of food. The farthest he went was two-hundred paces in a single direction and he never once ran into a wall of any sort. It was as if the cavern was an endless plane that extended in all directions. Reluctantly, after days of searching for an exit, Rajac returned to Kalos¡¯ corpse and attempted another avenue of finding an exit. Using Wind Elemental Magic, Rajac threw out waves of air as he attempted to feel if any of his wind his any solid objects. But, they were too weak. If his wind hit anything at all, he felt no reverberations like he should have. Over time, Rajac made his gusts stronger and stronger but, in the end, Rajac never felt a single waft of air come back to him. It was as if they disappeared into nothingness. And so, giving up every other option, Rajac began to meditate, seeking an internal answer for his external problem. And he found one. Due to his training, he knew his body inside and out. Where the muscles overlaid the bones, where his organs were and their conditions, and how fast his heart was beating among other things. However, when he searched this time, there was something that had not been there before. Adjacent to the small organ that allowed him to perform magic, at least he thought it was that based upon his observations, there was a small pulsating ball of light. It was miniscule. No larger than a fingernail, it swam in his internal fluids as if it was both a natural and supernatural occurrence all at once neither limited to nor obstructing his body¡¯s internal functions. Rajac probed it with his mind and discovered something. He had no idea how to describe the feeling he felt from it. It was foreign but natural. He flexed it an almost imperceptible amount and he ¡®felt¡¯ it expand rapidly moving over the ground below as if it was following his unbidden commands to search for an exit. Surprised, Rajac flexed the ball of light even harder. A pulsating wave burst forth from his body, invisible to the naked eye, but Rajac, in his meditative pose, could see the vast expanse of the cavern before him as if it was shone in a bright light. Only a short time later, Rajac found the exit. It was many miles distant and across a rocky terrain filled with cliffs with sharp edges and craggy recesses that would be impossible to cross in his weakened state. Reluctantly, he knew the only choice left to him was to stay in the cavern¡¯s darkness eating the flesh of the fallen Demi-God. He shivered at how easily the decision had come to him. How practical am I that I thought about the morality of what I have to do with the same aplomb that I do when I have to scratch beneath one of my splints, Rajac thought in disgust. These types of thoughts plagued Rajac as he stayed within the cavern partaking of Kalos for his own survival. For the sake of his sanity, Rajac only consumed the flesh of the Demi-God when he was so hungry he would have gnawed on his own arms for sustenance. Even then, he reluctantly turned to the rotting corpse at his feet and chewed, savoring the flesh like it was a gourmet meal. During that time, he also began to strengthen the small ball of light that began to grow at a rapid pace until it was the size of a lemon. Rajac found that he was able extend the waves emanating from the ball of light up to fifteen miles but no further. If he tried, the light would dissipate and the pulsating waves would snap back at him like a rubber-band causing no small amount of pain. In this way, he spent his ¡®days¡¯. What felt like months later, Rajac had gnawed Kalos to the bone. Nothing remained of the Demi-God except a few remnants of fleshy rotten meat around his feet and ankles. Rajac had finally regained his strength to the point where he was able to remove the splints from his arms and legs. The months in the cavern had changed Rajac. Alone, in the darkness, Rajac had become haunted by his decisions no matter what he told himself. There was more than a hint of madness within Rajac as he began to walk the many miles to the exit of the cavern guided by his ball of light.
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1.3.1: The Stranger In A Bar Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 1 AUTHOR''S NOTE I got a chapter out early! This is the start of Arc 3. I chose to make the first three Arcs (just go with it) into one volume. During my proofing, I thought that I could tie the first volume together with this arc. The first chapter is a slightly different style than I usually do so I hope you enjoy it. Also my proofing is taking forever! I''m nowhere near done. If anyone wants to help, I would be grateful. Also, tell me what you think of the story summary now. I changed it.
December 11, 29 R.E The dimly lit bar was quieter than usual this night. Games of chance were put on hold and the loud, drunken laughter that filled the halls had dimmed to mere murmurs. It was all the cause of one man. Or something that looked like a man. He had the form of a man, two arms, two legs, a strong jaw and thick eyebrows; however, thick horns jutted from his head and he had a taller, thinner frame than the humanoid races. However, it was not his physical look that had so deformed the bar¡¯s atmosphere; it was the airs he carried. The ¡®man¡¯ sat at the bar, leaning over it slightly, speaking softly, to the barman on the other side who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. There was a tension about him; the emotion dense enough to be tangible, his dark eyes flicked between the densely packed tables, untrusting and hate-filled all at the same time. Rajac sat brooding, hunched over the bar, and tall flagon of beer in his hand. He was already drunk; his head lolled as he tried to forget and remember all at the same time. It had taken him a week to leave the cavern. Guided by his ball of light, he easily made it out of the cavern, finding himself on the edge of the Akiean Kingdom in the city of Baktush. His clothes, a complete mess from the months underground, Rajac entered the city in the guise of a beggar. Soon after he entered, he stole a tunic and pants from a laundry shop and made his way to the nearest bar, spending some of his little remaining coin on a constant flow of drinks and food. He tore into the food greedily and savored the taste just as he tried to forget how much the chicken leg he was gnawing on tasted like Kalos. It was all he could do not to spit out the meat; instead, Rajac took the tankard sitting near him and took a long gulp, washing the taste out of his mouth. This pattern continued for many hours. The other patrons, wary of the madman, began to leave, citing numerous excuses as they, all the while, eyed the strange creature devouring food and drink at the bar. ¡°Tell me,¡± Rajac said, well into his drunken revere, ¡°what news from the west?¡± The barman turned reluctantly from where he was sweeping the floor. He was an Akiean, more muscular than a human, but less apt to be venture into high-minded intellectual pursuits so common among the humanoid races. As a whole, the Akieans were less likely to philosophize, experiment, or self-aggrandize their accomplishments instead, they would spend their time on more practical pursuits such as farming, tending herds, and war; all the while, they would remain humble. Few would ever rise above their station. It was just not their way. But this time, most of the patrons had already left the bar making it well and truly quiet now. Darkness truly filled the establishment, the lanterns within the bar not strong enough to fully banish it. ¡°Well,¡± the barman said, setting his broom against the bar. ¡°Azor surrendered to Mushan and Gerosh last spring. King Theodon¡¯s forces lost momentum once King Esain joined on Mushan¡¯s side. Eastern Azor was split between King Esain and Mushan.¡± The barman moved behind the bar picking up a few tankards and dunking them into a barrel of water and soap. Taking a rag out, he began to polish the metal, taking the time to scuff out a few scraps along the edges. ¡°The Western Territories have little information that leaves their forested expanse. Although, it is known that ¡®dukes¡¯ have begun to rise within the last decade, setting laws and controlling their domains. Many of the hordes that roamed there have now fallen under the banner of one of these men.¡± So, nothing about the Ventros, Rajac thought as he attempted to think in his drunkenness. These Dukes, though, they might be trouble down the road. ¡°And the north?¡± Rajac asked. The barman shrugged half-heartedly. ¡°Nothing much to tell. The Demi-Gods rule there as they have done since time immemorial. They never leave and we never go there. I¡¯ve heard no recent news concerning those regions.¡± Having asked all his pertinent questions, Rajac stood, pushing himself away from his stool with a squeal. The barman reflex flinched at the sound. ¡°Where is the Identification Building? Surely, a city as grand as this has one?¡± Rajac said as he leaned over the bar, a spell of dizziness paralyzing him momentarily. ¡°¡¯Round the corner.¡± The barman said. As Rajac turned to leave, the barman called after him, ¡°You can¡¯t go at this hour, they¡¯ll throw you out on the street!¡± But Rajac was already gone. A few minutes later, Rajac stood in front of the Identification Building, swaying in the freezing wind. His drunkenness had abated somewhat as he walked, aided by the wind as his back. Shaking his head once, Rajac pushed on the door to enter the squat, unassuming building. It did not budge. Locked. Rajac had no wish to stay in this city overnight. With one strong shove, Rajac pushed into the door, splintering the wooden locking-mechanism. Due the force of the shove, Rajac stumbled into the alcove that was the darkened hallway of the building. Soft snoring could clearly be heard from over in the corner. Blinking once, Rajac righted himself and peered towards the edge of the hallway where a door, slightly ajar, held a feint glimmer of light. Maneuvering himself gingerly through the furnished hallway, Rajac reached the door. He still had no idea what he was going to do but he knew he had been too far long from his people. They would need him and the Identity Merchants¡¯ Transportation Tertiary Magic was the quickest way to reach Cera Mountain. He had heard, from various sources, that it could take, up to a year, to reach the Western Territories on foot from the Akiean Kingdom. His patience had evaporated in the cavern like the mists departure at midday. It took a while for it to happen, but when it did, there was nothing left. Injuries or no, Rajac had a duty to his people and for far too long he had neglected that duty. It was likely they all thought him dead or captured along with Temos and the elderly. At that moment, he wondered what Alberon had told them about the last moments of the battle. Did he tell of his cowardice or did he hide his shame behind half-truths and outright lies? Rajac could imagine what he would have told his family, who for so long, had hoped for Rajac¡¯s return. Perhaps, they even thought him dead before the Ventros¡¯ return. But, when they had, that hope must have been rekindled like an ember finding a patch of dry grass. Alberon would have snuffed that dream forevermore with his trickery. Setting his jaw, Rajac made up his mind in the exact instant he kicked open the door with all his strength splintering the frame into a thousand pieces. It crumpled like it had been made from sand, only the hinges remained as Rajac strode through the door, a scowl on his face. The snoring cut off abruptly as a figure inside the room gave a surprised gasp and sat up in his bed, looking slack jawed at Rajac. He was a youngish Akiean; there was not yet enough gray in his hair to call him middle-aged but his dark brows, contrasting his paled complexion, highlighted the lines that had begun to form at the creases in his forehead. ¡°Who are you?¡± The man asked. There was only a twinge of fear in his voice. Mostly, the man seemed to be in wonderment. ¡°Rajac.¡± He said sternly as he stepped farther into the room. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°I have a few things I need from you. First, your name?¡± ¡°Endal.¡± The man said shifting in his bed. He made another movement as if to rise and then looked back at Rajac questioningly. ¡°May I?¡± Rajac nodded. This man was no threat to him. The man rose, straightened his thin tunic, and ruffled out his pants before walking to a cupboard on the other side of the bed. He opened it and pulled out a long, dust-colored cloak before draping over himself like a blanket. ¡°Follow me.¡± Endal said in a bizarrely calm tone of voice as if this type of thing happened every day to him. Rajac followed Endal out of his small room to a room opposite it. He was perplexed by Endal¡¯s actions but perhaps due to his drunkenness, Rajac felt only a little paranoia as he followed the man. Endal opened the door and lit a lamp inside with a thin wisp of Fire Elemental Magic. Shelves lined the room stacked with books of all kinds. To Rajac¡¯s eye, there was not a single space devoid of leather-bound parchment within this room. With a sweeping motion, Endal pushed a stack of papers to the side of his desk and sat down behind it, curiosity the only emotion Rajac could read in the man¡¯s face. ¡°Now, what can I do for you tonight Rajac?¡± Endal said as he reached under his desk and pulled out a thin, leather-bound journal. It looked as if it held no more than twenty pieces of paper. ¡°I need to go to the Western Territories. You have the fates possible way to get me there.¡± Rajac said sternly. ¡°Oh.¡± Endal said, raising his eyebrows. ¡°Someone has been telling our secrets. Who was it Tenai, Kuthrapi, Maji¡­¡± He said the last name almost eagerly. ¡°No.¡± Rajac said shaking his head. Then he paused. This might be the perfect chance to get rid of that cowardly old man. ¡°It was Alberon.¡± Again Endal¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°Hmm. Well, he can blab all he wants. He¡¯s the head Identity Merchant in Gerosh. Who would stop him except for the Goddess? And if she has not done so already, he had her approval, or at least, her grudging acceptance.¡± Rajac shrugged. He would just have to find another way to deal with that old man. Kendal paused, noticing Rajac¡¯s shrug. ¡°You are a strange one Rajac. It is not every day you get woken by a stranger and live to tell the tale.¡± Endal laughed weakly. ¡°I have a use for you. Are you willing to fulfill it?¡± Rajac said, a bit of coldness entering his voice. Endal sighed, eyeing Rajac¡¯s sword, ¡°Yes. It seems I have no choice in the matter in any case.¡± Endal thumbed the edge of the leather journal in front of him before looking back up at Rajac. ¡°But when you came, I thought it was for a different purpose.¡± ¡°And that was?¡± Rajac said steadily. ¡°To collect the level 100 skill tome.¡± Endal said as he opened the journal in front of him. Rajac took an immediate step back, his drunkenness forgotten. How did he know? Rajac was even unsure that he had but, after mastering the Ventros Sword Style, he knew he had at least been close. ¡°Relax.¡± Endal said, putting up a placating hand. ¡°It is not hard to see once you have been trained in these matters.¡± Endal pointed to Rajac¡¯s chest and said, ¡°The manifestation of your soul is still detached from you in obvious ways. You can use it but it does nothing except help sense the presence of those around you.¡± ¡°What is it supposed to do?¡± Rajac said curious, touching the spot where the ball of light, now the manifestation of his soul, resided. ¡°That all depends on what you decide to do with it.¡± ¡°And that is?¡± Rajac said, and edge to his voice. He was already losing patience with this man. A small thought in the back of his mind urged him to kill the small-minded Identifier. Time was a precious commodity that this man seemed to be wasting. Would not the world be a better place without such a man? The world was a better place without Kalos. Hadn¡¯t Rajac disposed of him? Rajac ignored the thoughts that hovered at the edges of his mind. He needed Endal no matter his doubts. Information was currency just as time. He was willing to waste some of it in exchange. ¡°After a mortal reaches level 100, he has many paths he can follow or, like a lone hawk, he can create his own path. The manifestation of the soul is the first and usually the last step many take in their journey to true mastery of Thantos. The soul is an ever-growing creature. When an expert trains, they should naturally expand to compound the added strength one gains during his lifetime. As he crosses the threshold of level 100, the soul grows too much for the body to handle and expands outside the natural confines of the body to take form. The soul, however, is a fragile thing. One small misstep and the soul could be shattered into a thousand pieces, destroying the expert in an instant. Many millennia ago, experts discovered that they had the ability to converge their soul with something to protect it and help it grow. Some chose their swords. Their iron became as hard as diamond and when they struck, the earth groaned with the strength of their blows. Some chose their minds. They thought of insurmountable technological innovations. Many of which stand to this day. Others chose their magic. Tertiary Magic was founded in this way. A few chose their hearts. It is said, those who choose this path are both the strongest and weakest of the experts. For they choose immortality over all other advantages. While they are no stronger than one who has not reached this stage, they will laugh over the others corpses, withered by age.¡± Rajac rocked back on his heels taking all this in. ¡°How should I choose?¡± Rajac said, his eyes half-closed in thought. Endal shrugged, a sad smile on his lips. ¡°I do not know. I was never able to soar that high. I know of very few who have.¡± Rajac opened his eyes and looked directly at Endal who still wore that sad expression. ¡°Is that why you decided to help me so readily?¡± Endal nodded, grimacing slightly. ¡°Yes. There are too few experts of your level that exist in the world anymore. Even though your methods in entering my home were¡­unpleasant, you are important enough to where I can stomach that slight.¡± Rajac pursed his lips annoyed. The man made it seem like he was at fault. The voices in the back of his head increased their pressure as they tried to warp his thoughts. ¡®Kalos,¡¯ they said, ¡®was only the beginning. What you do now will define you for ages to come. Will you take insults on the chin or refuse to bow before any man. Who are you?¡¯. Rajac again ignored them. He was so so big a fool to listen to whispers in the night. ¡°Come, let me send you on your way.¡± Without asking permission, Endal touched Rajac¡¯s forearm causing the, now familiar, gasp of pain. Placing a hand on the journal, Endal closed his eyes concentrating as black ink began to spread out on its thin, velum pages. As Rajac rubbed his arm annoyed, Endal handed him the journal and said, ¡°Here, this should give you the answers you seek. It describes the process of binding your soul to an object. And if your race has a boon for those who cross the threshold of level 100, then you will find instructions for that as well.¡± Rajac nodded. And, once again, Endal touched his arm without asking, and Rajac, once again, felt that familiar pain followed quickly by nausea.
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1.3.2: Soul Binding Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 2 AUTHOR''S NOTE PLEASE READ THIS. At the end of the third arc (there are only 7-8 chapters) there is a descision I must make about the MC which will guide him hereafter. Right now, I can say the opinion about the MC is mixed. Some love him and some hate him for a variety of reasons. Above is a poll. There is an event at the end of the third arc which will change the MC for better or worse. Many things could happen due to the event he could become resolved/angered/smarter/more willing to trust. You get the idea, many things can happen as an effect of the event. Since there are a variety of opinions about the MC, I want the viewers as a whole to give me a general idea about what you want from the MC. Thanks!
December 12, 29 R.E Rajac whipped through the air as he barely held onto the contents of his stomach. His eyes blurred with the motion and dizziness overtook him as he was physically transported thousands of miles in mere seconds. With a jolt, Rajac coalesced in a snowy-patch of forest. Immediately, Rajac¡¯s feet buckled under him. He remained against the fresh snow for a long minute, cooling his head against the freezing substance. With his head mostly clear, Rajac rose, brushing the snow off his now, partially wet clothes and looked around. Tall oaks blocked his vision of everything else. Their branches, half-covered in dead leaves, created the impression that the forest was sick with a blight. But Rajac knew better. These oaks were much the same everywhere in the Western Territories. Come winter, they nearly died from freezing temperatures; but when spring arrived, they bloomed so laden with life, their upper-most branches skirted the ground. Rajac smiled to himself as his heart warmed for the first time in a long-time. He was home. Though, Rajac frowned slightly, he knew not where. The Western Territories was a large region; he could be anywhere. He breathed out slowly; his breath coalesced in the freezing air creating a thin mist. Either he would need to start walking in a random direction or wait a few days until the snows cleared before finding a deer, pig, or wolf trail; all three were commonly known to reside on Creva Mountain and, it was likely, Rajac would find trails to Creva Mountain here. Though, it was also possible Rajac would stumble across a trail that led in a different direction. A direction towards one of these ¡®dukes¡¯ cities. Rajac decided on the former option as, if he chose the wrong path, it would not directly take him to one of the ¡®dukes¡¯ cities. It would take him longer but, with his speed, it would not take more than a few weeks to search for the foothills to Creva Mountain. After all, it was the only mountain in the whole region. For a week, Rajac braved the wind and the cold. That was, until a blizzard, unexpectedly halted his progress. He thought he had spotted foothills the day before and was traveling quickly towards the rises when the blizzard hit. He had to take shelter under a steep hill while using tree branches as blankets. During the three days he spent under the hill, Rajac began to peruse the Skill Tome he had been given by Endal. Primarily, Rajac was concerned about how he would bind the manifestation of his soul to an object. He still had no idea what he would use but he knew that he needed to decide soon. Frankly, it was a daunting task to decide. A part of him wished to choose the heart; the voices in the back of his head were adamantly in support of this idea and they constantly reminded him of it. But, Rajac was unsure. If strength was the price for immortality, would he be weak, unable to protect his race for eternity? This thought gave him pause and he moved onto other options. His sword sounded appealing. Being able to cleave an opponent in two with a single blow would be a marvelous tool and, if it was as Endal said, that the soul would grow along with him. Again, Rajac hesitated. He remembered all too well how Muhal destroyed his sword. And if his sword shattered, so too, would his soul. He considered object after object ultimately rejecting them all until he found, what he believed, the right one for him. The eyes. Ultimately, Rajac was concerned with the protection of his soul. He thought that if he put the soul within the nerves behind his eyes, it would stay protected far better than if he put it into an inanimate object or another part of his body, more open to attack. Rajac considered, for a long time, putting his soul within the organ that manifested his magic but he ultimately decided to choose the eyes. His decision was threefold. Foremost, the organ that contained the source of his magic was located in the gut, a common area to be struck during a battle. An off-chance blow could end him before he knew what happened. The eyes were more protected and, if he was struck hard enough to pierce them, it was likely he would already be dead in any case. Secondly, the Skill Tome listed the one-hundred most common objects a soul was bound to and the magic organ, called a Thismus in the book, was number two behind the mind. Eyes were not even ranked on the list. Rajac had always been one to walk the less-traveled path. Thirdly, the effects of binding the soul to the Thismus were noted with extensive descriptions in the Skill Tome. Thus, Rajac would have no sense of adventure or experimentation if he chose that option. There was no description on binding the soul to the eyes, thus, Rajac perceived it to be the more¡­interesting option. Binding the soul to an object was a rather simple affair. Much like flexing the soul, one put pressure on the soul. However, instead of pushing down on it, Rajac needed to move it into the object that it would be bound to. Easily, Rajac accomplished this. He pressured his soul into the nerves behind his eyes. Even though his soul was the size of lemon, there was only a slight discomfort behind his eyes that, he felt, he would get used to over time. Rajac completed the process by willing his soul to infuse itself into the eyes much like one would use magic. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. This time, a sharp pain met Rajac and snapped his eyes shut. A few tears leaked down his cheeks as his nerves began to adjust themselves to the presence of the manifestation of his soul. Slowly, the pain receded and Rajac opened his eyes, blinking the pain away. And he was surprised. There was no comparison between what he had seen when he closed his eyes and what he now saw. It felt as if he had been blind to the world and now, only now, could he see. There were colors, once unknown to him, that shifted in his vision changing hue based upon the way he looked upon them. If he gazed of into the distance, he could see the shifting snow sweep through the wind at five times a greater distance than he once had and¡­.What was that? He slit his eyes as he attempted to see through the snow. A mountain rose out of the distance as if it was created from the snow itself. Towering over everything else, its peak lifted into the sky above, cresting far above the clouds. If Rajac craned his head, he could see where the tops of the clouds concealed the height of Creva Mountain. Remarkable, Rajac thought to himself as he experienced his new eyes. And they would only get better with training. What a remarkable gift. Adventurers, hunters, and scouts alike would salivate over such a gift. To see enemies far before they saw you, near or far. Rajac shook his head still in wonder as he reluctantly moved onto his next subject of interest. His Auxiliary Magic. Rajac began to scan the Skill Tome for information. On a page, near the back, Rajac found this.
Auxiliary Magic Creation Guide
Clients should note that this guide is only available for those who have been granted the ability to create Auxiliary Magic based upon the benefits their race receives when reaching level 100. If you are not sure if you qualify, turn to your Race Information page.
Directions: There are four types of Elemental Magic available to all races. Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water. Certain races have an affinity for certain types of elements. Please check your Race Information page if you are unsure. Auxiliary Magic is the creation of new magic based upon the four Elemental Magics. This discussion does not include Tertiary Magic. If you wish to create Auxiliary Magic with a Tertiary Magic, please consult the next page.
To create Auxiliary Magic, the Client must combine two or more Elemental Magics to create a new magic. This is done using both magics at once and melding them together.
Clients should not that this can only be done once. So, it is wise to not make any mistakes.
Listed below are a few examples of Auxiliary Magic that has been created in the past.
Combination: Earth 20%, Fire 80 % Creation: Sulfuric Magic
Combination: Wind 60%, Water 40 % Creation: Paralysis Magic
Combination: Earth 25%, Fire 70 %, Water 5% Creation: Diamond Magic
Rajac stared at the page for a long-time lost in thought. If he understood, he could only create Auxiliary Magic once which meant that there was no room for experimentation. If he decided to combine earth, wind, and water he could come up with millions of possibilities. Even the smallest of changes in the amount of each would alter the creation so drastically that one minute he could be creating Healing Magic and the next, Saturation Magic. For days, long after the blizzard abated, Rajac sat in a meditative pose thinking. Neither his hunger nor thirst distracted him as he looked for a solution. But, to his dismay, he found none. All he was left with was a gamble. He could have gone the safe course and chosen one of the three Auxiliary Magics listed but, again, he decided against the path most traveled. As the Ventros had an affinity to Earth and Fire Elemental Magic, Rajac decided to create his Auxiliary Magic from both of these. Reluctantly, Rajac willed both Earth and Fire Elemental Magic to form in front of him. Rather than the substantive forms they usually took, he formed them into two small, spherical balls hovering just above the ground. The Fire Elemental ball was slightly larger than Earth¡¯s and everything Rajac tried to even them out only caused the disparity to seem even greater. After the second day of trying to even out the balls, Rajac finally gave into frustration and willed the balls together. A bright flash of light shone from under the hill; if Rajac still held his past eyes, he would have been blinded by the light for quite some time. But, with his new soul-bound eyes, Rajac saw everything. The two elements meshed together. Spinning like interwoven threads towards a nucleus at the center of the orb. Faster and faster they spun until, even Rajac, could not tell the colors apart. Finally, the orb stopped spinning, a molten hue emanating from the slate-grey orb. Rajac reached out with his will and touched the orb speculatively. It was a sleek magic unlike any he had experienced before. It was not as wet at water or as swift as air. Truth be told, Rajac thought it might be some kind of metallic magic but he was unsure. He would have to test its properties thoroughly in the coming days. But, that could wait. The blizzard had long passed at this point and he was becoming anxious to see his family whom he had long been without. Gently closing his Skill Tome, Rajac rose and began to walk briskly towards Cera Mountain; the solitary home of his family and race.
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1.3.3: Return to Creva Mountain Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 3 AUTHOR''S NOTE This is a transition chapter. The next one is as well...sort of. You''ll see. But this was important to set up his dynamic with people as he returns to Creva Mountain.
December 29, 29 R.E The valley at the top of Creva Mountain shone in the distance like a sliver of light breaking through a door at night. It was like a beacon as it guided Rajac through the thickets and brambles of Creva Mountain. With his soul-bound eyes, Rajac circumvented many of the dangers of the mountain as he made the easiest path up the jagged and twisted rock. Surprise touched his face as he strode the last few steps towards the singular opening to the valley. Two Ventros stood on top of a hastily constructed palisade blocking the entrance to the valley with its high walls, as well as, its ballista-sized bolts lodged into the top third of the wall, dissuading any from attempting to climb its height. Rajac walked up to the palisade unconcerned. After all, this was his home. ¡°Who goes there?¡± One of the men called down from his position on the top of the palisade. A single sheet of soft wind blew through the valley chilling Rajac as he tilted his head up for the border guards to see. ¡°Rajac!¡± The guard said surprised. ¡°Yaka, its Rajac!¡± The other guard, Yaka, turned to inspect Rajac. ¡°Rajac? Where¡¯s Temos?¡± Rajac felt a knot tighten in his breast. This was a question he never wanted to be asked. ¡°Kalos struck him down.¡± Yaka closed his eyes in grief. His short, briskly cut hair fluttered into the wind under his leather-hide helmet that protected all but his horns. ¡°It¡¯s a shame Temos could not return in triumph. He was a great warrior. Kalos might have struck the final blow but it was that Identity Merchant who killed him.¡± ¡°Aye.¡± Rajac said in hearty agreement. He had already decided, after he spent some time with his family, he would track down that Identity Merchant and find retribution for Temos. ¡°Well, you¡¯ll be glad to know we¡¯ve taken care of him. He intentionally murdered a Council member; can¡¯t have that, can we?¡± Yaka said, a pained grin on his face. Rajac sighed lamenting that dead had already been done. ¡°No, I suppose not.¡± Rubbing his hands against the cold, Rajac said, slightly impatiently, ¡°Let me in, will you? It¡¯s freezing out here.¡± ¡°Ah right. Danair, open the gate.¡± Yaka called to his fellow soldier. The gate swung silently open and Rajac hesitated. It had been so long since he had been home. It would likely have changed much since he had been here last what with the 6500 Ventros that now populated the valley. Taking a deep breath, Rajac walked into the valley as was met with a strange sight. Behind the wooden palisades, a city was being constructed on a grand scale. Using the stone of the mountain, cobbled streets were being laid in curving patterns around already constructed thick, stone buildings which looked to be a multitude of houses, commercial buildings and one or two governmental buildings. As Rajac looked each and every way, awestruck, Yaka guided him through the maelstrom explaining a certain occurrence here and there as they walked through a mass migration of people moving throughout the newly constructed streets with a zeal unlike that seen in other cities. Soon, though, Yaka guided him out of the city to where grassland still remained. Here, Rajac saw his family¡¯s old farm. Now, though, it was surrounded by others of a similar kind. Many men and women were tending fields lined in rows with crops of many hues. It was not long before he came to his family¡¯s door where Yaka left surreptiously. He announced, unbidden, that he had a meeting he was late for. Rajac stood in front of the door, his heart beating rapidly, and knocked once. A shuffling of footsteps met his ears as he strained to hear, his nose pressed right up to the door. The door opened unexpectedly in his face. Rajac blinked in surprise as a Ventros woman, in her mid-teens opened the door. She had long, black tresses that hung to a point just below her earlobes. Strangely, she wore a tunic cut off at the sleeves showing a fine musculature. She even had a sword hanging at her hip! ¡°Nisa¡­¡± Rajac spluttered. Nisa tilted her head, an odd looked in her eyes. She scanned Rajac up and down taking in his thick frame, scarred body, and long, black lock, a mirror image of hers. ¡°Rajac¡­?¡± Nisa said slowly. She repeated herself before Rajac could say anything. ¡°Rajac? Rajac, is that really you?¡± Before Rajac knew what was happening, Nisa threw herself on him. ¡°Rajac!¡± She cried, a blanket of tears flowing from her eyes. ¡°We thought you were dead! Only one letter got through, you know, in all the years you were gone. Just that one right after you left.¡± Rajac awkwardly patted her back as he felt a surge of guilt well up in him. In truth, he had only sent a single letter to his family. He left it with Bella as he left Thrensford to send by Raven. ¡°I know. I know.¡± Rajac said absently as he guided her inside. Nothing had particularly changed inside as he ducked his head under the door. ¡°Come.¡± Rajac said as he guided Nisa to the kitchen table. ¡°Tell me about your life. I have missed so much.¡± As Nisa sat, she wiped her eyes gently and said, ¡°Father has kept on the same as before. After you left, he took on most of your duties while I began to take some of the smaller chores. When he heard you died, he grieved for days. But, by that time, we all expect¡­¡± She paused, wiping a tear from her eye. ¡°We all expected that you died long ago. So, he took it on the chin like a Rashak should and continued on about his life even when the other clans, all the sudden showed up. Right now, he¡¯s doing what he always has done. It¡¯s harvesting season so he¡¯s in the fields. Mother was much the same. She coddled me more, I think, after you left. But,¡± Nisa gave a small smile, ¡°I don¡¯t think it took. I was never the most obedient child. After I began to become an age where I helped to work in the fields, mother began to go into the fields with us. That was, until the other clans arrived. She took it all in stride; as if she had expected, long ago, that you would succeed. The news of your death took her harder than it took father. She spent many days cloistered in her room and the only thing that brought her out of her room was an invitation to sit on the Council. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I think she was looking for any distraction to keep her mind busy at that point. Usually, it is the head of the clan that takes the seat, at least that is what the Council says, but it is probably more complicated than that. I heard that Temos Manos was younger than father and he was on the Council.¡± Nisa said conspiratorially. As she looked at the pained expression on Rajac¡¯s face, she clasped a hand to her mouth horrified. ¡°My Gods, I¡¯m sorry. Many here speak of Temos in such a way. He is like a hero to them. They shout his accomplishments for all to hear that everyone knows how he saved our race.¡± Did they now? Rajac mused to himself. He felt a small pang of jealously at the fame Temos had acquired but shoved the feeling away. He wanted no glory; it was enough that his race was safe. If Temos would be the one remembered for the deeds they accomplished together, so be it. He had died after all. Rajac would have other accomplishments attached to his name. While Temos, he had this. It was the least Rajac could do for his friend. ¡°It quite alright sister. I only knew him for a short time. And his death seems like a distant memory. I am glad his memory is cherished here. He deserves it.¡± Nodding his head to her, he said, ¡°Please continue.¡± ¡°After Mother took the Council seat,¡± Nisa said, shifting in her seat so her back stood straight as an arrow, ¡°She has spent a great deal of time helping to plan the construction of the city. There has even been talk of building a trading route to one of the ¡®duke¡¯s¡¯ cities.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± Rajac asked softly. It appeared as if Nisa was reluctant to talk about herself with her longwinded explanations of the daily lives of mother and father. Nisa ducked her head under her copious hair. ¡°After you left, I was furious with you. So furious, I did not speak to you for weeks before your departure. I am sure you remember. I think, during that time, I was angrier that you were leaving me than the fact that you were actually leaving. I promised myself, that if¡­when you returned, I would not let you leave without me. So, I began to train myself in the same way you did from when I was seven. Even though I did not have the Four Forms of the Ventros Sword Style book, I knew enough to where I could complete the first two forms without magic. I watched you practice them for years, after all.¡± Nisa had a small smile on her face as she looked up. ¡°After the other clans¡¯ arrival, I was able to procure a copy of the book and a Sadat, and just last month, I was able to master both forms.¡± Rajac was astonished. She would actually go through all that for me. Even as he felt love blossom for his sister, a thought, unbidden, began to circulate in the back of his mind. ¡®What have I ever done to deserve this kind of devotion?¡¯ ¡°I think¡­¡± Rajac said, his mouth somewhat dry, ¡°I think you have accomplished your goal. But, I don¡¯t think I will be leaving anytime soon. My goal, when I left, was to help return the Ventros to the world. As they are all here now, I think I will stay awhile and help stabilize this new city.¡± ¡°Would you tell me your story?¡± Nisa asked almost shyly. ¡°You now know mine.¡± She added defensively. Rajac nodded and began to tell her about his time searching for the Ventros. He lamented about the lost opportunity with Bella, his journey to the capital of Gerosh and speaking to Alberon, his unexpected journey to Abria and his subsequent capture, his years in the Circle he mostly skipped over due to their violent nature, his meeting with Temos is the forest and the eventual escape from the province. When he got to defeating Kalos and falling into the cavern, Nisa already had her hand over her mouth, scared for him even though he sat right in front of her. A bemused smile touched Rajac¡¯s lips as he told of his many months in the cavern, again skipping over how he ¡®survived¡¯ due to its gruesome nature. As he finished with his return to the valley, Nisa, of course, had a few questions. He had been many places and done many things in the years that he had been out in the world while she had done very little other than train. While many of the questions were generic and easily answered, a few of her questions Rajac avoid or refused to answer due to their sensitive natures. These included ¡®How many people did you kill in the Circle?¡¯ ¡®How did Temos die?¡¯ ¡®How did you find your way out of the Cavern?¡¯ Rajac gave a vague answer on this question because, even though she was his sister, the existence of soul-bound objects was a secret all experts took to their graves. It was their weak point. If any knew of its location, they would be much easier to kill. One question, though, made Rajac pause as he glanced out a small, stain-glass window inset into the wooden wall. ¡°What Auxiliary Magic did you make? You said you made one a little while ago?¡± Rajac turned back to Nisa at that and willed the metallic ball into existence. Nisa¡¯s eyes opened wide as she looked at the ball and asked, with a hiss, ¡°May I touch it?¡± Rajac nodded. He could see no harm in that. It didn¡¯t seem to be of a poisonous or mind-altering nature, so there was no harm ¡°It¡¯s strange.¡± Nisa said as her hand slid off the small ball like it was covered in oil. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. It looks like metal but it is not rough but slick, almost greasy.¡± With a ponderous look, she said, again poking at the ball, ¡°Go to a metalsmith, he should be able to help you out.¡± Rajac nodded. With both of their stories over, Rajac and Nisa lulled into lighter talk. He began to feel a comfort rise in him as he relaxed in his chair and talked with Nisa, and his parents, who arrived at dusk, late into the night.
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1.3.4: A Turning Of The Winds Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 4 AUTHOR''S NOTE I got another one for you! You might be wondering how I''m getting all these chapters out all at once. Well, I had a few free days and I''ve been working on this non-stop. There is a reason for this. I want to finish the first volume by the end of next week as I will be busy with exams for a few weeks and won''t have time to write. So, I''m trying to get the, now eight, arc 3 chapters out to you before then. This will line it up rather well for me to delve into Volume 2 when I get back from exams. Right now, we are looking at Volume 1 finishing somewhere between 4/24 and 4/26. I will let you know right now that I will not be back with Volume 2 until 5/6 or 5/9 so there is a little bit of a wait. Sorry guys! Also, there is a small aside at the bottom of the page.
December 31, 29 R.E The next morning, Rajac was summoned to the Council to give his report on the events leading up to and during the escape from Abria. He gave a full and detailed account to the six members of the Council including his mother and, Temos¡¯ replacement, Jalai Manos, an older woman with a crooked-nose but usually wore a bright smile that made her face not seem so unsightly. After he completed his tale, Rajac surprisingly, was put in command of all Ventros soldiers. He knew most of the Council hated him for involving himself in their affairs but, as they put it, ¡®You are the only one since our race¡¯s fall that has mastered the Ventros Sword Style. We will require your expertise in the coming years. Furthermore, Temos¡¯ students have also taken a liking to you and they are the voice of our fledgling army.¡¯ Rajac did not think those were the only reasons. But, they were the reasons the Council was willing to share and, if his mother was involved in the decision, the Council¡¯s angle would not have any abstract motives, would it? A few days later, Rajac found himself mulling these questions as he walked the freshly-paved streets of Kankuraventros, which literally meant, the city of the Ventros. Most people called it Kankur for short. He had met all of the men who would serve under him yesterday. There were not many. Only fifteen at the moment. The ten that survived along with five new recruits. Rajac shook his head chuckling at that. He was the head of an army and he had around the same amount of men under his command as when he was a field non-com in his past life. As the first order of business was to recruit, he thought it best that his men begin the process as many of the citizens still harbored angry feelings towards him as it was well known that he was the one to order the Elderly to die. ¡®If I didn¡¯t, they would have no soldiers at all right now. They¡¯d all be dead along with Temos who, remarkably, is not blamed for any of the miscues of the battle. Even though he and I led it together, all the successes are directed at him and all the failures at me.¡¯ Rajac muttered this to himself as he walked, maneuvering around people, as he kept his head lowered in thought. While he was not jealous, per se, that Temos was lavished with praise while he was shrouded with enmity, Rajac was annoyed. He didn¡¯t think it was too much to ask to receive some accreditation for giving the Ventros a way to leave their secluded forest in the first place. If he had not arrived, they would still be there. Sighing, Rajac pushed open the door to a shop, the well-polished bell announcing his arrival. The shop held ingots of gold, copper, iron, and steel of every size. They were stacked into small alcoves, shining their metallic gleam from behind stain-glass panes. A Ventros man stood behind the bar and, at Rajac¡¯s entrance, turned to greet him. The grin the man affixed to his face faltered slightly as he saw Rajac. ¡°Ah, Captain Rajac, how good of you to grace your presence in my humble store.¡± The man said bowing slightly. All knew of Rajac¡¯s new role in Kankur by this point. Rajac couldn¡¯t go anywhere without hearing that he was trying to tarnish Temos¡¯ reputation by taking his old position. Rajac had to grind his teeth every time he heard a phrase like that. Temos had been his friend. When Rajac accepted the role, he believed he had the ability to help his race the most from this position but many saw it as just another attempt by the callous and vindictive Rajac to dampen the heroic image of Temos that all held in their hearts. Rajac could not even wrap his head around the logic of these people. Did they think his mere presence as the head of the army could affect Temos¡¯ legacy in any way? All Rajac could do was scowl at the inane comments. A thin smile crested Rajac¡¯s lips as he asked the Ventros man, ¡°May I speak to you in the back?¡± The man paused, his hand hesitated where it hovered halfway between the counter and his pants leg. ¡°Yes.¡± He said finally and led Rajac through a door behind the counter. The backroom was littered with metal scrapings of every kind. Nuts and bolts littered the floor and the rafters, not yet old enough to acquire dust motes, held a scattering of dead leaves that had blown in from the alleyway behind the store. ¡°What may I do for you Captain?¡± The man said, turning to Rajac. ¡°I have a few questions to ask you about a certain metal I have obtained but I don¡¯t want others to see it.¡± Rajac said as he made a show of extracting his Auxiliary Magic from the pocket of one of his pants legs. He made a decision, after accepting the Captaincy, to hide the effect of his Auxiliary Magic. The less his enemies knew about him, the better. If this man couldn¡¯t tell him what kind of metal, if it even was a metal, his Auxiliary Magic was, he would move onto the next metal smith and so-on-and-so-on until he found out the exact nature of his Auxiliary magic. But, he was in luck. The man¡¯s eyes widened in surprise as he picked up the metal ball. ¡°Where did you get this?¡± He exclaimed. There was a hoarse note in his voice as he caressed the metal ball. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°What is it?¡± Rajac said, leaning in closer. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure but it is a metal. There are no imperfections, it is sleek where it should be rough, and it is incredibly round. This should not be found in nature.¡± The man rose, his hand shaking the ball so much that Rajac felt his Auxiliary Magic would fall to the ground if he kept it up. ¡°Give me a minute.¡± The man bowed slightly and entered his shop once again. Rajac could hear the sound of metal banging on metal as he waited, his arms crossed, and slightly impatient for his answer. But, it appeared the man could give him his answers so he would wait. The sound of clomping footsteps announced the man¡¯s return. He held the metal ball reverently in front of him, his eyes fixed on it. ¡°So what is it?¡± Rajac asked. ¡°A new type of metal. It¡¯s an alloy of aluminum. Where aluminum is soft and bendable, this is harder and smoother than any metal I know. There are hints of Boron, a metallic carbon, and Magnesium, a metal even lighter than aluminum. This alloy that you have must have been created somewhere. Tell me,¡± The man said, looking directly into Rajac¡¯s eyes for the first time, ¡°Who made this? This could be used to make insurmountable creations the age over. They won¡¯t decay for eons if made from this alloy. Whoever made this would be a rich man by nightfall.¡± Rajac frowned. He had no wish to divulge his secret. But, now he knew the man did not know what it was he left the man¡¯s store without another word. As he pushed the door open, Rajac knew not the name of his metal, though he had some ideas. Its qualities, on the other hand, had been described, in detail, by the shop keeper. Affixing a smile to his face, Rajac melted back into the crowd. ~ Gaya Mendari, or Lord Gaya as he liked to be called, lounged in a resplendent chair, his legs crossed over a leg and a large glass of wine trapped between two fingers of his right hand. He was in the Abrian Palace. Well, at least that is what he called it. Most just called it the Old Manor. It was neither glamorous nor resplendent in any way. Abria, a province in the middle of nowhere, locked in an eternal struggle with all the other provinces controlled by the Demi-God¡¯s in the region, there were six in total, was rather poor. All the luxuries that the region had were piled in this small manor for the benefit of the lord¡¯s perusal. Today, though, was a most interesting of day. Lord Gaya usually spent his time watching the mortals fight, that was always an entertaining aside; they were so weak in their scrawny bodies, not like his at all, sculpted like a master stonework. It was one of the reasons he felt no need to train like one of those ¡®experts¡¯. He was already powerful and got to live exactly like he wanted to. Truth be told, he was a bit lazy but he would never admit that to himself. Only in the most private recesses of his mind did this thought linger. ¡®Today, today, a most interesting of days¡¯ Gaya murmured looking down at his audience before him. ¡°Tell me Muhal, you¡¯ve had this Greater Race man for what half-a-year now?¡± Gaya said in a low voice. ¡°Yes, your majesty.¡± Muhal said, bowing low, his voice grave. ¡°And only now do you bring me news that he has given the location of the rest of his race?¡± Gaya felt anger rise in him and his tone became all the sharper. Muhal flinched even as he looked directly at the marble floor. ¡°Yes, Lord Gaya. This one was stubborn.¡± Gaya just glared at the man for a long moment not saying anything. Let him sweat, Gaya thought sullenly. One of his precious few Greater Races had left, en mass, from his demesne. He could not tolerate it. To make an example, he had ordered the one who found their discretion, to tear them all limb-from-limb when he found out where they fled to. And it took him this long just to find them. What would the purpose be of making an example if it took forever to for the example to be made? He was immortal but his subjects were not. If an example was to be made, it needed to be quick. ¡°And¡­¡± Gaya said, swirling his wine. A splash of red liquid fell onto his hand and began to trail down his fingers before dripping onto the marble floor making a red patch where there should be white. ¡°Where are they?¡± Muhal cleared his throat. ¡°The Western Territories.¡± There was silence in Abria Palace. The few courtiers who were in the palace remained utterly still as they waited for the expected outburst. They were not disappointed. ¡°WHAT!?¡± Gaya screamed as he threw his glass on to the floor where it shattered in a million pieces.¡± Muhal flinched once again. ¡°Go. Just go.¡± Gaya snapped at Muhal. Muhal rose unsteadily. ¡°Where¡­¡± Muhal paused, uncertain. ¡°Get rid of them!¡± Gaya shouted. ¡°Have I not given you an order already? Take five-hundred and have done with it. Don¡¯t come back till you bring me every single one of their mangy heads!¡± With that, Gaya rose and walked into his many bedrooms. He thought he would try a nice vintage today. Perhaps a Zalot; their blue skin always gave him the shivers.
AUTHOR''S NOTE The type of Auxiliary Magic Rajac has is only slightly stronger than Diamond Magic. It will not make him OP. I gave Rajac a slight edge to Diamond Magic as Diamond Magic was listed in the Skill Tome while ''Metal Magic'' was not. Also, the Ventros have an affinity for earth and fire so naturally metal magic is slightly stronger.
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1.3.5: A Training Of A Different Kind Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 5 AUTHOR''S NOTE I was hesitant to write great portions of this chapters as there are many moving parts. Some of which, I wanted to leave till volume 2 but they fit here. There is a small aside at the bottom. Also, a new chapter, most likely, will be out tonight.
December 31, 29 R.E ¨C July31, 30 R.E. The days past quickly in the new city of Kankur. Rajac settled into his new role as Captain of the army. While he had only begun with fifteen men, that number soon swelled to three-hundred. Many wished to join the army for a variety of reasons, but foremost, the pay was excellent. Rajac had been given a large sum of money to fund his soldiers for the coming years by the Council. It had been decided, soon after Rajac accepted the captaincy, that the army needed to be well-funded and properly trained if the Ventros would ever flourish as a people in the Western Territories. His men, while not experts like Temos¡¯ students, already had some martial ability; however, it was taught mostly as a means of self-protection. Rajac had to change that thinking in them. They would need to learn to attack?-and-defend together. The Ventros clans had many books on the subject of modifying the Ventros Sword Style for warfare. In fact, Temos¡¯ students already knew many of the modified forms. One of them, Rajac had already seen as they fought Lord Gaya¡¯s men. The Jintac Formation. Basically, it was a massive shield wall of Earth Elemental Magic that used the same techniques as the Cadence of Jin but in unison with many other soldiers. Rajac allowed Yaka, his second, to take lead on training the soldiers in the formations as he knew them much better than Rajac. There were three in total; well, at least three that Temos¡¯ students were comfortable teaching. Jintac Formation, Martyr¡¯s Formation, and the Collective Formation, which Rajac just called the Unbroken Formation. With Yaka at their head, it was not long before all three-hundred of his men could replicate the basics of all three formations. They were no masters of the formations; not by far. But, it was a start. One day, in mid-June, Rajac was walking the training grounds, just past the newly constructed army barracks, inspecting his mens¡¯ technique. As he walked past, his arms crossed over his chest, a customary scowl on his face, one of the newer recruits stumbled in the Jintac Formation. Falthor, one of Temos¡¯ former students, whose dark complexion was a rarity among the Ventros, stalked over to the recruit and said, snarling, ¡°Tanak! What in bloody heavens do you think you are doing? If you are distracted by a single person now, what do you think will happen on the battlefield!?¡± The recruit¡¯s face turned red with either anger or embarrassment and he lowered his head, moved back into the Cadence of Jin, and synchronized his steps with the rest of his squad. After shouting a few more insults at the unfocused soldier, Falthor tilted his head to Rajac and began to walk a little ways away from the squad, whose drills were now being led by a strong-chinned sergeant Rajac did not know the name of. Rajac followed him, curious. He did not know Falthor well; truthfully, the only one he knew really well was Yaka. This was mostly due to the structure he created when he began to formulate the army. While he was the ¡®head¡¯ of the army, Yaka was the one who trained and recruited all the men. Thus, Rajac had little to no interaction with any of his commanders except during his daily inspections and the weekly reports they had to submit to him. It would only be when there was a real fight that he would be needed anyway. He thought this was the primary reason, anyway, that the Council put him in charge of the army-his prowess in the field. After all, he was the only one in the last five-hundred years to master the Ventros Sword Style. ¡°Falthor?¡± Rajac said quietly, careful to not let his voice carry over to the men, who seemed to be too interested in the sky. It was clear all were attempting to listen. Falthor turned his back to the obvious soldiers and said quietly, ¡°Sir¡­¡± He paused, seeming uncomfortable as he bent his head slightly and brushed some dust from his leathers, ¡°Sir,¡± he repeated, ¡°I have a request to ask of you.¡± ¡°Speak.¡± Rajac said impatiently. ¡°You saw how Tanak, the recruit, fell out of formation when he noticed you?¡± ¡°Yes, the unfocused one? It doesn¡¯t look like he will make a good soldier.¡± Falthor cleared his throat. ¡°That¡¯s just it. He¡¯s one of the best recruits.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Rajac said, lifting his eyebrows. ¡°I thought Yaka had done a better job; I will have to speak to him about this.¡± ¡°No. That¡¯s not it at all.¡± Falthor said, waving his hands hurriedly. ¡°It¡¯s, well, it¡¯s that they all fear you.¡± Rajac sighed. He knew there had been the possibility of something like this. He thought hate would have been the more likely emotion but fear? That was a new one. What did his soldiers have to fear from him? ¡°Many saw you fight the Demi-God with Temos and the saw your prowess then. How you fought¡­well, it was amazing sir. But, unlike Temos who was blessed by the true and noble Gods, they say you were cursed to wade through blood... They say that you stalk the land looking for the blood of your enemies and maybe¡­even your friends. There has been much talk about this subject in the barracks as of late. I¡¯m sure, in time, there will be as many stories about you as there is of Temos.¡± Falthor said, a solemn note in his voice. Rajac shivered inside. He had no idea what to make of these stories. It appeared that whatever he did, for or against his people, they would make their own opinions about him and he could do little to stop them. Reluctantly, he asked Falthor, ¡°What should I do?¡± Falthor pursed his lips, considering. But Rajac could tell by the knowing look in his eyes that he had already thought about what he would say long in advance. As Rajac looked deeper into his eyes, he saw a glimmer of fear there as well. Gods above, Rajac thought surprised, does he believe the rumors as well? ¡°You should stay away. Leave Yaka in charge. Already, you are symbol for our army. When an officer threatens a recruit, he uses your name; when a soldier enters town, the citizens are respectful to him because of you. Even though many distrust you and some, outright, curse your name, they also fear you. You cannot do anymore right now. Yaka knows more about the battlefield formations than you do. Let him train the men. When the time comes, I am sure you will be needed again.¡± Almost indifferently, Rajac did as asked. In truth, he was somewhat glad to leave most of the managerial work of the army to Yaka. He was never suited for that kind of role anyway. Furthermore, he could catch up on his training. For months, he had been bogged down in the bureaucratic mess that was dealing with the Council and managing the army. He went to Yaka later in the day and explained what Falthor had requested of him; Yaka, the loyal soldier, was reluctant to take proverbial command from Rajac. So, Rajac made a new title for him, Base Commander. Now, in truth, Yaka would be in charge of training the recruits, drilling the soldiers, and the overall ¡®army base¡¯. He would report to Rajac periodically who would be the ¡®Overall Commander¡¯ but, unlike Yaka, would retain his title as Captain. With Yaka holding his new title, Rajac could turn back to his training. And so, in his house he built with his earnings from his captaincy, Rajac began to train. He doubted he would be disturbed unless it was for something important as he was miles from Kankur and none ventured here as there was little game and the land was less-arable than the land closer to the valley¡¯s mouth. There were a few things that he needed to accomplish while he was here. First and foremost, he needed to train his Auxiliary Magic. Unlike the four Elemental Magics, it was not directly apart of the Ventros Sword Style. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. But, for many months prior, he had delved out the effects of his Auxiliary Magic which he blandly called Metal Auxiliary Magic. What else would he call it? Aluminum Alloy of Unknown Percentage Magic? That was just bad form. Metal Auxiliary Magic revolved around stretching and hardening the Auxiliary Magic to his will. Rajac could stretch the metallic ball into a spear that rose from the ground, impaling an enemy, or he could throw that same spear from his hand. If he wanted to harden the metal, he could make the Auxiliary Magic form thick layers on top of each other creating a defense ten times as strong as his Earth Elemental Magic. It was through these principles that Rajac merged his Metal Auxiliary Magic with the Ventros Sword Style. Instead of using Earth Elemental Magic during the Cadence of Jin, Rajac used Metal Auxiliary Magic. And when he thrust with Martyr¡¯s Fallacy, Rajac began to interchange Metal and Fire Elemental Magic as he attempted to alternate the form¡¯s pattern. As he wasn¡¯t really learning anything new, just incorporating a variety of techniques, this segment of training only took him a single month to complete. The second and far more strenuous part of his training involved training his soul. The pathway to level 200 was a long and winding road that diverged thousands of times. But, Rajac¡¯s Skill Tome made one thing clear. If an expert was to reach the threshold, he would need to grow his soul exponentially from its level 100 status. The Skill Tome actually listed what was considered an adequate soul status to reach the level 200 threshold.
Soul Status
Please note that your Soul Status can be found on your information page. Also note that the Soul Status is only measured after the expert exceeds level 100.
There are infinite ways to train the soul. As the soul is the life-force within the body, once the body¡¯s capacity to hold the soul is filled, the soul is manifested. If you need to know how to bind your soul to an object, turn to the previous page. Once a soul reaches a certain level, the expert will cross the threshold to the next one-hundred levels. This is not to say that levels cannot be gained through other means; however, a soul must be at a certain level for an expert to cross the threshold. In the past, many experts have found it easier to increase their skills in other areas as their soul automatically grows with the increase of skills. Just like some races have benefits after crossing the level 100 threshold, so too do souls. The benefits and requirements for crossing each threshold are listed below.
Level 100There are no qualifications for this threshold. Only when this threshold is reached does the soul take form. No rewards.
Level 200Soul Status: 25% of body mass. Reward: Aging Process is halted for a span of 100 years
Level 300Soul Status: 50% of body mass. Reward: Aging Process is halted for a span of 500 years
Level 400Soul Status: 75% of body mass. Reward: Aging Process is halted for a span of 1000 years
Level 500Soul Status: 100% of body mass. Reward: [Information Hidden]
Please note that while training the soul is beneficial towards your longevity of life, it is not the only way. If you bind your soul to your heart, you can immediately achieve immortality; however, your soul can no longer be trained; thus, you will never becoming stronger than your current level. This option is welcoming to many experts as training the soul is exceedingly difficult. Every threshold reached makes training the soul for the next threshold exponentially harder. For comparison¡¯s sake, only 5% of mortals ever in existence have crossed the level 100 threshold. Only 1% have crossed the level 200 threshold. Only .25% have crossed the level 300 threshold. Those who have crossed the level 400 and beyond thresholds is a number so incalculably small that it is not worth mentioning in this Skill Tome.
Well, that explained why so many chose to bind their soul to their heart. Rajac expected many experts on crossing the level 100 threshold felt no need to continue further and chose an easy path to immortality. Rajac knew that path would never have been open to him. His people, infantile in their rebirth, needed him. Not at his current strength, but much, much stronger. There would be enemies aplenty for a race trying to prove itself in this bastardization of a world. A few already came to mind as he flipped to the information page to look at his specific soul status.
Rajac Rashak
Ventros Male
Level105Experience05%
Health[Information Hidden]Magic[Information Hidden}
Sensitivity[Information Hidden]Heart Rate[Information Hidden]
Eye Sight[Information Hidden]Potential[Information Hidden]
Soul Status3% of Body MassCurrent Effects:+50% Eye Sight
Rajac laughed out loud as he closed the Skill Tome. There was a lot of work to do. But, as contentment washed over him, he knew that he had plenty of time. There was no need to hurry. After all, Yaka was taking care of his most pressing obligations. Settling back down on the floor, Rajac began to train in earnest, a grin forming on his face.
AUTHOR''S NOTE I added the soul status guide as I thought it would be appropriate for this chapter. Though, I was hesitant to add it as it added the ''vaguery'' of immortality. I want to add, as an aside, that so many people choose the heart to be soul-bound, even though they know the soul can be trained to make the person immortal, is two-fold. Foremost, people always choose the easier path. Secondly, there are reasons explained partially in the next chapter that will explain this better than I can in a single sentence. As the next chapter will, most likely, be out later today, I''ll leave it till then. To all those hoping Rajac becomes immortal, that is only one possibility far into the future. Reaching level 500, does not necessarily mean the expert will become immortal nor that the reward is immortality. Let me just say there are many paths to choose from when reaching that level and as this was the Skill Tome up to level 200 only, the information regarding the higher levels is incomplete. Also, who said level 500 was the limit?
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1.3.6: A Matter Of Fate Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 6 AUTHOR''S NOTE This is a different type of chapter than my usual. If you''re VERY lucky, I will have another chapter out late tonight.
July 31, 29 R.E ¨C November 10, 30 R.E. Muhal cursed. He had ridden for a year across this accursed continent with his five-hundred men. Well, they had been five-hundred. Now, they were three-hundred and twelve. Disease, raiders, and the overall grind of the journey had caused utter devastation to his ranks of men. But, they persisted. After all, Lord Gaya had commanded it. They had no choice but to continue. These Ventros all had to die if they had any chance of returning to their homeland. All the men had families waiting for them be they siblings, parents, wives, or children, these men were desperate to return. And so, they soldiered on. And on. And on. Until they reached the Western Territories and began to march up the frozen incline that was Creva Mountain. Another twenty died on that march alone from hypothermia, exhaustion, falling rocks, among other causes. Most of his men, as they reached the height of Creva Mountain, were foaming at the mouth for Ventros blood. They wanted this journey over and quickly. Muhal was of the same mind. While his family had long since perished in a long-forgotten war, Muhal needed to return to Abria. He had a name there. For centuries, he had roamed the continent and nameless, honor-less vagabond. That was, until Abria. In Abria, he had a name, a rank, and perhaps, if he returned with the Ventros¡¯ heads, a title. When his scouts returned, informing him of the well-fortified border to the valley, Muhal cursed his luck explicitly. There was only one entrance. One single, fucking entrance and they had it bloody blockaded by two-dozen men. Further, it seems his scouts had been spotted thus complicating matters even further. Muhal cursed again. In different circumstances, he would have had the scouts¡¯ heads, but he had too few men as it was. ¡°Soldiers of Abria!¡± Muhal turned, disgusted with sight of his scouts, ¡°It is time for you to prove your valor! To show that you are true men of Abria!¡± Shouts and cheers rose from his men urged on by their desperation and bloodlust. There was one, though, who remained silent. His head remained lowered, as if in morning, only emphasizing the newly shorn stumps on his forehead that once, might have been, ivory horns. ~ Yaka brooded silently. He sat behind his oaken-worked desk, his freshly polished boots resting on its smooth surface. For months, the Captain had left him in charge. He didn¡¯t mind, not really. In truth, his new title of Base Commander meant little other than a bump in salary and a greater respect of the Council. Both of which, he could do without. In fact, his duties had not changed one smidgen since he had acquired his new title. He had always recruited and trained the soldiers. The Captain had always been more of a field commander. Yaka had recognized as much at the Battle of Abria as the people were now calling it. Today, though, was different. He felt that his job description did not fall within the purview of the news Falthor had just brought him. As the army expanded, somewhat due to the pay, the Captain¡¯s reputation, and his now, prolonged absence, he was still feared after all, Falthor had risen in rank until he had become Rear Lieutenant of the Border Guard. Meaning, Falthor was in overall command of the Border Guard. Just this morning, Falthor had run into his office, without waiting for Yaka¡¯s secretary to notify him he had permission. In a breathless voice, he stated that ten to twelve men were discovered to be scouting the fortification blocking the entrance to Kankur. Further, he stated they had been wearing Lord Gaya¡¯s colors. Immediately, Yaka had informed the Council who of course, lost their collective heads. They demanded, actually demanded him to marshal his army and meet the probable invading force. When he explained the problems with doing so, such as the lack of information about the enemy including their number, who they held their allegiance to, and if they even were enemies and the tactical infallibility of such a strategy as Kankur had sheer cliffs and a well-fortified defense making it almost impossible for it to be breached. They did not listen. So, Yaka sat here with their orders in hand pondering what to do. He had sent a few scouts out earlier in the day to find more information about the opposing force; they had only just returned minus five of their number. Though they had not ascertained the force¡¯s number, one thing was clear, they were an enemy. With a groan, Yaka rose from his chair. He had made his decision. Frankly, there was really no decision at this point. Walking the few miles to the edge of the valley, Yaka hesitantly knocked on the small cabin¡¯s doors. For a minute, he waited in silence. Suddenly, without any warning, the door creaked open. ¡°Yaka?¡± A deep, rumbling voice rose from the innards of the darkened cabin. Yaka felt his heart leap in his chest. He knew why many felt fear when looking at his Captain. As Rajac opened the door wider, Yaka could see the familiar tall build, dense expanse of muscles and tall, thick horns. As Yaka looked up at Rajac¡¯s face, he could not help but start. Hadn¡¯t his eyes been black? But they were a muddy brown now. Yaka could see hints of green and blue interwoven into the mix as well. Strange. It must have something to do with the Captain¡¯s training. He let the matter be as he greeted his Captain gravely; his mood affected by the tiding he brought. ~ ¡°You say that an army has gathered on our borders and the Council wants us to go out and exterminate them like rats?¡± Rajac said coolly. His anger, so long forgotten as he trained in consummate silence, began to rise like the morning tide. ¡°Yes.¡± Yaka said, his refined face showing a tightly held mixture of anger and anxiety. Rajac sighed, breathing out silently. ¡°Ignore it. We must wait until they come at us. They can¡¯t starve us out.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I agree.¡± Yaka said nodding. ¡°We have enough arable land to support Kankur indefinitely. As for our economy, we still are in discussions to establish a trade route with one of the dukes¡¯ cities. But, that has not happened yet. For now, most of our commerce is local so any attempt to restrict or cut it off will be ineffective.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Rajac said nodding. He flexed his arms stretching. It had been a very long time since he had actually moved. For months, he had sat in a meditative pose as he trained his Auxiliary Magic and soul-bound eyes collectively. As neither required movement to train, he sat in his meditative pose every day, only rising for food and water. Easily mastering his Auxiliary Magic, Rajac had trained his soul to a point where he felt, as if, he could not overcome the next bottleneck quickly. He had discovered, much to his surprise, that there were certain points one had to push through while training the soul. Each bottleneck made it ten to twenty times harder to grow the soul. When Rajac was finally able to overcome a bottleneck, he easily was able to grow his soul until he reached the next bottleneck which, again, required a supreme amount of effort. This process continued until Rajac felt he could no longer grow his soul without many years of effort. Therefore, for the past two weeks, Rajac had been absently training in the Ventros Sword Style, slightly bored. When Yaka finally called upon him, he knew something had happened to require his presence and his heart both leapt with joy and sank with despair at the news. For he knew, he would not be called if Kankur was at peace or the matter was easily handled. As Yaka and Rajac began to walk back toward the city, Yaka asked, a concerned note in his voice, ¡°What about the Council¡¯s orders?¡± Rajac sighed again. Irritated that it had come to this. ¡°I will speak to my mother. At least, she will see reason.¡± ~ A few hours later, Rajac and his mother, Tai, sat at their family¡¯s small kitchen table, two steaming mugs of coffee sitting in front of them, untouched. Tai sat with her legs primly crossed across from Rajac her usually kind face deepened into a frown. ¡°Rajac, you have put me in a difficult situation.¡± ¡°Mother, it is you who have put me in one. The purview of the army fall under me and me alone. Is that now why you made me head of the army?¡± Tai tapped her cup thoughtfully. ¡°I think you misunderstood. The army was always under the direction of the Council; it was just harder to see with Temos in charge as he was a part of the Council.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t have the Council breathing down my or Yaka¡¯s neck every time we make a decision. Especially if all our fates rest on that decision.¡± Tai laughed softly. ¡°Oh, Rajac. You¡¯ve grown so much in your years away. I can think of a time, not long ago, that you would have already been shouting me down for voicing an opinion that you disagreed with.¡± ¡°Times are different. People grow mother. They don¡¯t always stay the same.¡± Rajac said calmly. Tai sighed softly and took a sip of her coffee. As she set it down, she said, ¡°I suppose that is true. But, think of it this way. The Council is like a parent to all Ventros. We come from every clan and watch over our people. Some may see us as vindictive for our strict rules and oversight but we do what is right for our people.¡± ¡°Is it right for our people,¡± Rajac countered, ¡°for those who have no military understanding to give orders to the military?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Tai said firmly. ¡°The Council needs to have firm control of the military. If you do not understand why, look at any history book.¡± ¡°You should also look at a history book.¡± Rajac again countered. ¡°Many times a governing body orders its generals to do something counter-productive to its military strategy thus resulting in a catastrophic defeat.¡± ¡°My son, please do not voice these opinions to the rest of the Council. For, they will take your command away if you do.¡± Tai said as she lowered her head, contemplating the milky contents of her cup. ¡°If they can.¡± Rajac muttered. There were too many factors at play now. His men feared him; however, there was also a love there as they saw him as a symbol perhaps on the same contour as Temos. Many of the people hated him, some feared him, and a few, a very few, loved him. Most though, respected him for his prowess on the battlefield. If the Council tried to take away his command, there would be a large outcry from his detractors and admirers alike. ¡°That is true.¡± Tai agreed. ¡°I think they will regret listening to me when I told them to make you the commander.¡± ¡°You did what?¡± Rajac said, mildly surprised. He had suspected she had something to do with it, as he had been busy with other matters, he had not had the time to investigate it properly. ¡°I just told you.¡± Tai said somewhat annoyed. Rajac¡¯s mother was one of those people who hated to repeat herself. ¡°The Council, in fact, wanted the head of the army to be one of them. But, I argued for you as you were proven on the battlefield and were good with the sword. So, they relented, but only after I promised them that I could control your actions.¡± ¡°And so, it had come to this.¡± Rajac said softly. ¡°We are at an impasse.¡± His mother said nodding. She had her duties to the Council and he had his duties to the army. For many hours, they went back and forth unable to come to a decision. However, it mattered not in the end. As the sky turned dark and the negotiations continued, a fountain of men began to pour from the forest beyond the valley, weapons in hand and bloodlust mirrored in every face.
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1.3.7: The Siege Of Kankur Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 7 AUTHOR''S NOTE This is a pretty long chapter and it takes me over 60000 words for the series so far. Also, two more chapters left in the volume. Also, if you read the last chapter carefully you might have seen hints about the ending to this chapter.
November 10- November 19, 30 R.E For almost two weeks, the enemy force had pulverized the iron-bound wooden gate leading into Kankur. Rajac often stood on the ramparts not actually fighting but leading through his presence. He couldn¡¯t do much up here except use his exceptionally keen eyesight to notify the soldiers when another assault would be coming long before the others could see it. Rajac often considered attacking the enemy who congregated below as they beat on the gate; however, a few of Kankur¡¯s engineers told him it would be a bad idea as it would damge the soil beneath the gate which might destabilize the gate further. So, for now, only archers were being used on Kankur¡¯s side. Off and on, Rajac would pick up a bow and augmenting his fire with his magic, shoot at the enemy soldiers far enough away from the wall to where it would not cause any damge. But he was a poor shot compared to many soldiers in the army as he had never trained with a bow while many soldiers from Abria had used a bow since they were children. When the attackers breached the gates, there was no question about it at this point, Rajac would enter the fray. Yaka and he had planned for such an occurrence at the outset of the siege. While the siege itself had taken Rajac and his men by surprise, the perpetrating force had not. Both he and Yaka had hypothesized that Lord Gaya had sent the force before confirmation came in the appearance Muhal at the helm of the invading force. That had come as a slight shock to Rajac who never expected to actually see the ¡®man¡¯ again. From Yaka, though, he learned that Muhal was a Rajin. A race known for its prowess on the battlefield. It appeared Muhal had risen through Lord Gaya¡¯s ranks rather proficiently in the decade since Rajac had seen him last. He was a mere subordinate, now though, he had what his scouts estimated to be three-hundred elite soldiers beholden to him. A remarkable rise Rajac could only wonder at. While Rajac stood stoically on the rampart, no more than a symbol to his men, Yaka took charge; he shouted orders, developed a strategy from thin air, and basically controlled the ebb-and-flow of the battle from his wily fingertips. On the ninth morning of assaults, Yaka walked up to Rajac who was standing in his customary position overlooking the wall. Below, the remnants of the most recent assault were freshly strewn across the soil below. Bodies riddles with arrows and other, larger projectiles, stared up blankly towards the heavens surrounded, on all sides, by the after-effects of magic. Scorches yards across furrowed the ground and walls of dirt stood crumbling, hit by a variety of magics until they no longer had a stable base. ¡°This has to end.¡± Yaka said with a frown. ¡°One way or another, neither side can take much more of a pounding.¡± ¡°What is the condition of the gate?¡± Rajac asked as he scanned the distant tree line, looking for any straggling scouts. ¡°Not good.¡± Yaka said as he moved to stand next to Rajac. ¡°It won¡¯t last another week. Our patchwork repairs aren¡¯t enough to keep the gate intact more than that. We would need a week of uninterrupted work to have a thoroughly strong gate again.¡± ¡°What do you have in mind then?¡± Rajac said turning to him. Enough was enough. To sit like mice in the baseboards while the cat toyed with them, utterly pathetic. Something needed to be done. If Yaka was the one to come up with the plan, so be it. Rajac had learned, over the previous months, that it was sometimes good to delegate tasks one found too tedious or onerous to do. He did not have to do everything himself. In some respects, he thought that might have been one of his mistakes from the start. He tried to save his people alone. Yet, he was unable to do so. Captured by Muhal, he spent nearly a decade in the prison-like Circle; only when he escaped did he actually find the Ventros and it was only with Temos¡¯ help that he rescued the Ventros. In some respects, Rajac¡¯s relationship with Yaka was like his relationship had been with Temos. While Temos received the adoration of the masses, Rajac was hated and feared. Now, the soldiers saw Yaka as their commander, someone to rely upon, while they saw Rajac in a somewhat mythical light as he was connected intrinsically to their hero, Temos. There was also more than a little fear involved; many believed that once even if the gates fell, Rajac would swoop down from the ramparts and cut down every single enemy soldier in sight. Rajac could only chuckle at that. If only he was so strong, he would not have to go through this charade he and Yaka improvised to boost the soldiers¡¯ moral. ¡°I have thought of something.¡± Yaka said, a small smile touching his broad lips. ¡°But?¡± Rajac asked. He felt there was hidden depths to Yaka¡¯s statement and his fears were confirmed when Yaka stated, a grin spreading across his face, ¡°Oh, I think you will like it. A lot, if I¡¯m to hazard a guess.¡± ~ A few hours later, Rajac was in a foul mood. If he did not have to maintain his decorum in his present situation, he would be cursing up a storm. Damn that Yaka, Rajac groused to himself. Is this really a plan or a suicide mission? This is exactly what the Council wanted us to do and we refused. Rajac grunted discontentedly. This was the price of desperation. Even the brilliant Yaka was out of ideas other than to throw their best soldiers at the enemy and hope for the best. Otherwise, all could be lost. Rajac and twelve of the best soldiers within the Kankur army stood, in Jintac formation, outside the valley with their backs to the wall. Thickly corded ropes were synched tight across each of their waists. Another long string of rope was looped through the first rope so that men upon the fortifications held the twelve ropes as if they were playing a massive game of tug-o-war. ¡°Hashan, Isail, separate your squads. Don¡¯t get your ropes tangled.¡± Rajac said to the two squad leaders. Both nodded and split the single Jintac formation into two. Rajac feared that if they stayed clumped together that when it when sideways, as he knew it might, then all of their ropes would get tangled and they would not be able to be pulled up by the soldiers on top of the fortifications. ¡°Fifty paces out!¡± One soldier from Isail¡¯s formation called to Kankur¡¯s army at large. ¡°Hold formation!¡± Rajac called to his men. Hashan¡¯s squad, arrayed behind him, bent lower in their Cadences as Isail¡¯s squad did the same, arrayed as they were fifteen paces to the east. Muhal¡¯s army came upon them like a flood. Men came through the forested underbrush, through the well-travelled paths, and a few of the more daring soldiers jumped from the forest canopy above as they attempted to attack by surprise. Rajac was a warrior incarnate as he jumped straight into Stepping Stone cutting the men who tried the last tactic down before they even reached the ground. With his Metal Auxiliary Magic, Rajac thrust forth with Truth of the Many slicing down one, two, three, and four soldiers in twenty seconds with long shards of metal that seemed to appear from nowhere. For a split-second, there was a momentary silence as both armies seemed stunned by the metal¡¯s appearance. But, the call of blood waits for no man and Rajac, never pausing, rushed into the first grouping of soldiers, a war cry emanating from his throat. Hashan¡¯s squad quickly followed him as they bellowed their own war cries. Isail¡¯s squad, after a second¡¯s hesitation, turned to face another squad they came upon. Rajac bellowed as he tore into his enemies. Quickly, he received bruises, cuts, and gouges; however, in return, Rajac delivered death blows. Flowing through the Ventros Sword Style using both the Unbroken Dance and Stepping Stones, Rajac dealt blow after blow cutting men down where they stood. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Hashan¡¯s squad followed wherever he went. Rajac was the spear and they were the shield. Everywhere they went, Rajac dove into the enemy, dealing out blow after blow. After a few examples of his battlefield prowess, the enemy soldiers began to focus solely upon him. As if already prepared for this eventuality, Hashan¡¯s squad began to form around Rajac like a protective seal, blocking or deflecting the most harmful of blows. They continued in this way for the next hour; Isail¡¯s squad had long-since been pulled up when three of the six members had been struck by arrows simultaneously. As Rajac and Hashan¡¯s squad, who had not lost a single man, continued to fight, a nagging thought began to manifest in Rajac¡¯s mind. Where was Muhal? It was clear he was leading this army so why was he not riding forth to protect his men? So far, Rajac and his soldiers had killed or incapacitated around seventy of Muhal¡¯s soldiers. As Rajac dove into a squad of soldiers that had pushed passed the dead bodies of their comrades, cries began to rise from his own soldiers around him. It was Muhal. Covered in leather armor, Muhal resembled a boar more than the Rajin he was supposed to be. Snarling, he cursed at Rajac, ¡°I should have cut you to pieces instead of handing you over to the Circle!¡± Weary from his injuries and the long day of fighting, Rajac gave no response as he met Muhal¡¯s blow head on. There was a clash of spark and a concussive explosion that emanated from the two swords. Unlike the last time they fought, Rajac was not blown off his feet from the impact of the blow; however, bot h Muhals¡¯ and Rajac¡¯s men were. Some crashed into the gate, splintering it further. Others flew through three trees, breaking branches as they went. ¡°Muhal!¡± Rajac screamed as he pushed forward with all his might. His eyes flared with life as he glared at the Rajin he hated with every fiber of his being. Muhal stumbled as he received the blow but he quickly corrected himself. Turning on his back foot, Muhal charged him spraying an array of Fire Elemental Magic at him. Using a Metal Auxiliary Magic shield, Rajac blocked the blast easily. Instinctively, Rajac threw the metal wall at Muhal who could not dodge in time. It clipped him on the shoulder, spinning him to the ground. Even as he was falling, Muhal threw out Earth Elemental spikes from his fist. Many hit the metal wall Rajac threw up, but a few made it before Rajac could create his defense. He was hit several times in the gut by the earth spikes. Groaning, a single though came to mind. It was time to retreat. That last attack, after Muhal arrived, incapacitated at least ninety of Muhal¡¯s men altogether. That would be enough to impede Muhal¡¯s army from breaking the gate anytime soon. ¡°Retreat!¡± Rajac called as he pulled on his rope. Five of the six soldiers within Hashan¡¯s squad were still alive. Only one died in that surprise attack. With grim acceptance, Rajac knew that soldiers would be lost in warfare. It was telling that Rajac¡¯s men killed nine men per Muhal¡¯s one. Statistically, Rajac could not hope for better odds. Though, he wished he could have taken care of Muhal; with him still in the mix, this would not be over until every last one of his soldiers lay dead or dying on the battlefield. ~ Muhal awoke. A sharp pain lanced his side as he tried to rise. He reached over. Coarse bandaged made of old cotton tunics had been applies to his shoulder where he had been hit by the metal projectile. Curse that man. He¡¯s ruined everything. If Muhal had the strength to fight, he would have swung his fist to break down that blasted gate himself and damn the consequences. He thought he was being so clever when he waited for the thirteen, only thirteen soldiers to be overwhelmed by his masses of men. He knew what the enemy was doing. They were trying to inflict the most damage while suffering the lowest amount of casualties possible. But no, nine survived and it was all due to that man. A decade ago, that man had just been another weak Greater Race man. But now, he was a match for Muhal, a man of an Epic Race. Muhal rose with a grunt. Blinking, he looked around. Most of his men looked fresh and clean as he held them back. But the scouts and low-ranking grunts, their ranks had been utterly decimated. Those that returned were afflicted with missing limbs, scorched bodies, and an overall depressing morale. As he looked around, he came to the realization, with a sinking feeling that too few of his men remained to hold the gate feasibly. Muhal still believed they could take the gate, given enough time, but holding it was a different matter. They would have to face thousands upon thousands of civilians and whatever remained of the valley¡¯s soldiers. But, Muhal had always planned for such an eventuality. A good commander always needs a failsafe if the primary plan goes to shit. ¡°Temos!¡± Muhal barked. The Ventros man stumbled forward as if pulled by invisible strings. ¡°Yes?¡± Temos said. His eyes were downcast as if they held a great pain in them. That was not hard to understand. For months, Muhal¡¯s men tortured the man for the information that led them to this mountain. And for the year that it took to travel here, his men tortured the man for information about the leaders¡¯ personalities, the secrets of the race, and anything else they could think of. Now, the man who was hailed by many as a hero was no more than a sheep among wolves. His horns had been shorn off when he was forced into telling the soldiers that horns were a source of pride among the Ventros, he was beaten when he said that he had never lost an honorable fight, and he was deprived food when he refused to bow before Muhal on his occasionally appearance in Temos¡¯ deprecate prison. ¡°Cut out your own tongue.¡± Muhal ordered him as he held out a skinning knife. A panicked look revealed itself in Temos¡¯ eyes as he met Muhal¡¯s. ¡°Nooo.¡± Temos slurred as his hand, unbidden, began to rise towards Muhal¡¯s hand. Muhal¡¯s clan, the Pekasii, was a special clan within the Rajin race. While they were few in number, they were one of three of the Rajin clans to have Tertiary Magic. Muhal rarely ever needed to use it as it was only useful in situations that required a certain finesse to accomplish. Temos shakily grabbed the knife from Muhal¡¯s hand and brought it to his own mouth. With a shuddering breath, he opened his mouth and slowly began to saw away at his own tongue. With every stroke of the knife, a small spurt of blood flowed from Temos¡¯ mouth until the thin, pink organ flopped to the ground at Muhal¡¯s feet. A smile slowly began to form on Muhal¡¯s face as he looked at the cowering Temos. Beckoning to a few of his men, he barked, ¡°Beat him but make sure his face is recognizable. Then toss him in front of the gate.¡± As Muhal watched his men beat on the Ventros man, he felt his grin widen. Mimic Tertiary Magic was only useful in certain circumstances. Only a small vile of his blood in the target and he was all Muhal¡¯s to control. He didn¡¯t even need to see the target to control him effectively. Such a perfect magic for such a limited set of problems. Such a shame. As he turned from the bloody mess that was Temos, he prayed inwardly to his clan elders, something he rarely did, that this went as planned.
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1.3.8: Hymn To The Fallen Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 8 AUTHOR''S NOTE 1 more chapter! Lots of POV''s in this chapter. One note. I''m looking to change the series cover for volume 2. If any of you want to draw it, please pm me. Thanks
November 19- December 09, 30 R.E And as the morning light crested the mountain¡¯s expanse, a body was found beneath the ramparts of Kankur¡¯s fortifications. That body was beaten, bloody, and scarred beyond belief; but, it was recognizable. A hero had come home. Temos, the Scourge of Gaya, had returned to his people. While the citizens in the streets rejoiced, many within the army and the Council felt more than a twinge of apprehension at their hero¡¯s unexpected return. Even as they bandaged his wounds and nursed him back to health, they kept a careful eye on their hero; however, as the days passed and the Abrian army appeared to retreat, wariness among the soldiers began to recede. Many came to the conclusion that Temos had been a warning to the rest of the Ventros. They had heard how Temos had been mutilated. His tongue had been jaggedly cut making it impossible for him to communicate and his mind appeared to have been addled as the healers, in their many attempts to communicated with the hero, could not make him respond in the slightest. As the days passed into weeks, life returned to normal for citizens of Kankur. Most forgot there was even a hero residing in the healing tents. Only a few cared to visit the broken hero now that he was more myth than reality; and most who did, did so out of pity. For Temos was a hero no longer. How could one be a hero when one could not protect his people? And so, for many of the Ventros, citizens and soldiers alike, their thoughts and prayers turned to one man. Rajac Rashak, Captain of the Army. Many still feared him; hate though, how could one hate a storm, a flood, or an earthquake? He was the embodiment of nature. It was said he single-handily destroyed the army of Abria. It was said he was so vicious, so bloody, so cruel, and yet, so courageous, that even Gaya would quake at his presence. And so, it came to pass, that the people replaced Temos in their hearts with Rajac; for a hero is a fickle thing. Fear is much more everlasting. ~ Rajac had these thoughts in his mind as he strode through the healing tents erected in a semi-permanent fashion on the edge of the training grounds. Brushing past guards who bowed low to him, he ducked his head and entered the largest and most solitary of the tents in the camp. Inside, his friend lay, prone as the day he had arrived. There were a few differences though. The dirt and muck had been cleaned from him his body while most of the bruises had healed. Only the harshest punishments doled out to Temos remained on his body. Quietly, Rajac sat in a corner and began to read absent-mindedly. He came here almost every day now. With the times turning, once again, to peace, Rajac had little to do. Yaka took care of most of the daily bureaucratic duties so Rajac had a lot of free time; he was hesitant to return to his training as it had only been a few weeks since Muhal¡¯s army had retreated and while Yaka seemed to believe the matter was finished with, Rajac wasn¡¯t so sure. Logic was on Yaka¡¯s side but Rajac knew Muhal; he was a brute. But a loyal one. He would never willingly give up when his master commanded him to complete a task no matter the harm to him or his men. And so, Rajac worried as he sat at Temos¡¯ bedside. Furthermore, he still didn¡¯t know what Temos¡¯ return meant or the effect Muhal was attempting to instill upon Kankur by dumping his broken body for all to see. Was it just a spite-filled attempt to dampen moral in Kankur after Muhal had lost? Rajac didn¡¯t know and that¡­that was a problem. He sighed as he turned a page in his book. After a few minutes passed, his sister, Nisa, walked in carrying a metal tray with an assortment of liquid products that could easily be swallowed by the non-responsive Temos. ¡°Nisa.¡± Rajac greeted her as she entered. She wore a simple leather jerkin today with tightly-synched pants. No sword today; the healers protested profusely every time she brought it near an injured man. As if she could injure them more with the sharp weapon. That kind of thinking made little sense to Rajac, as he felt the comfortable weight of his own sword dangling from his hip. He had bypassed the guards without so much as a whisper from them. It was doubtful they would ever broach the subject with him. ¡°Brother.¡± Nisa said as she set the tray onto a small table next to Temos¡¯ beside and began to pour an orange liquid into a wine glass. As the healing staff was short-handed to the number of injured soldiers, Nisa had volunteered to assist the healers in menial tasks they had no time for; therefore, she had been enlisted by them. ¡°What do the healers say today?¡± Rajac said calmly, not even looking up from his book. It was a question he asked daily and the answer never changed. ¡°He is still unresponsive Rajac. They do not think that will change anytime soon.¡± Nisa said softly. Sighing, Rajac turned back to his book. He found the book rather less appealing than it had seemed only moments ago. ~ Nisa Rashak watched her brother leave the tent¡¯s innards an hour later. She had just finished administering the requisite tests to determine the relative range of faculties of the patient. In the weeks since she had been aiding the healers, she had learned a great deal about the Ventros body. Frankly, most of it made her mind spin. But, she would only be here until the healers were able to train enough of their students to operate independently of them. She hoped that wouldn¡¯t be too long. Caring for people, even people as heroic as Temos, was tiresome. She¡¯d rather be out there with her brother training. But life has its little quirks. She bent down to pick up the wicker basket that carried most of the medical supplies within the room. And as she did so, her head dipped below the bed obscuring the occupant, now sitting, ramrod straight, looking directly at her. ~ Muhal had pulled his soldiers back intentionally weeks ago. Foremost, they needed to recuperate. His soldiers, weary of the assaults, had been near to dropping dead from exhaustion. The respite was good for both morale and the overall strength of his army. Secondly, though, it would take some time for his plan to come to fruition. He had to make the Ventros believe that his army truly had retreated; thus, they would relax their boarder security and his spy, who even now, he could feel in his mind, could destroy that greater race from the inside out. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Finally, after weeks of preparation, Muhal felt the time had come. Ordering his men forward, he bade they stay hidden until the signal was given. Relaxing into a meditative pose, Muhal opened the eyes of his spy. Blinking his eyes in a darkened room, the spy rose from his slumber, sitting up in-between cotton sheets. Muhal turned the spy¡¯s head as he looked for any observers. He knew this would be a possibility. This Greater Race man was a hero to the Ventros; they would not throw him out on the streets like a homeless vagabond; no, he would be well care for; perhaps, even watched. As Muhal looked down, he saw the back of a leather jerkin and a tight knot of black, almost purplish hair. Quietly, Muhal made the spy sit on his knees and hover directly over the woman. For he could see that she was now. Her angular face reminded Muhal of someone but in the cold alacrity of the moment, even Muhal couldn¡¯t place the face with a name. Reaching the spy¡¯s hands out, he gripped the surprised woman¡¯s head in his hands and began to twist with a surprising strength. ~ Nisa felt utter shock as cold, emaciated fingers closed tightly around her neck and head. She immediately dropped the basket she had her hands loosely gripped on and reached for her sword. When she realized it wasn¡¯t there, panic overwhelmed her. With desperation, she threw up her hands as she attempted to break her attacker¡¯s hold on her neck and head. Even as she did so, she knew it was a naive and completely futile effort. She had only one regret. She wished, just once, that she could have gone with her brother out into that open, glorious world. With a snap, Nisa¡¯s world fell into darkness. ~ Rajac felt a shockwave tear through his heart. He was in the army barracks, going over some paperwork with Yaka, when he felt the sensation. What had happened? He felt as if something was very wrong. Without even waiting to give Yaka an excuse, Rajac rushed out of the room. His first instinct was to head towards Temos. Had he perished? Was this why his heart was fluttering with anxiety? Sprinting at full speed, he rushed towards the healing tents, arriving in mere seconds. Ignoring the startled comments of the guards, Rajac threw open the flaps to Temos¡¯ tent and found¡­ A pitying howl emanated from the healing tents. Many thought a wild animal had entered the camp and a few of the more brazen joked to their fellows about hunting the creature. But many more only shivered at the sound. If it was a wild creature, it was in great pain to make such a sound. Those who had the greatest survival skills quietly moved away from the healing tents before they became a passing meal for that savage beast. ~ Muhal guided the spy towards the gate. After he left that woman broken on the floor of the tent, it was easy enough to dawn a cloak and walk in-between people of the same ilk towards, the now, loosely defended fortification. Looking up with the spy¡¯s eyes, he only saw five guards in total. Two on the ramparts and three directly behind the gate. Smirking, Muhal walked directly up to the guards at the gate and decimated the three guards in front of the gate with a few, well-placed punches. Before the guards on the top of the ramparts could react, Muhal hefted one of the fallen guard¡¯s swords and swung it towards the partition between the walls of the gate. With a crack, the wooden plank that held the doors together splintered into pieces, crashing down to the mud below. For a few moments, there was silence. Then, out from the dense tree-line, his soldiers let out a unified cry and began to rush towards the open gate. With a flick of the spy¡¯s eyes back towards the city, Muhal released the body, leaving the Ventros man to his fate. ~ Rajac was beyond furious. He was beyond grief. All he could do was chase after the man who did this. He wanted to ask why but he knew. It was all a trap after all. Temos worked for Muhal and, by the sounds emanating from the gate, he had let in Muhal¡¯s army from the inside. Rajac ran as fast as his speed would allow him and even faster than that. He flexed his soul to the point where he overcame that bottleneck that he had long been struggling with but he did not even notice so lost was he in his grief. ~ Temos awoke with a halting understanding of his surroundings. The last few weeks of his existence had been hazy. Even hazier than the years he had spent being tortured for information. He was tired. So very tired. Enough was enough. He just wanted it to end. As he closed his eyes, the strength of his body waning, a shout tore through his drifting consensus. Rajac? What was he doing? His friend, face contorted with rage, his eyes¡­ What was wrong with his eyes? They were bleeding like twin rivers of blood. A strange sight that. Again though, why was he rushing this way? And why the sword? For Temos could see the long, steel short-sword raised directly into the air as if to strike. Temos didn¡¯t even know that he had been struck as he crumpled to the ground lifeless. He never knew his crimes or how much pain he had already inflicted upon his people. Nor how much more pain he would bring after his death. For Muhal¡¯s army already swarmed through the gates. Even as Rajac thrust himself on every enemy he could see, more swarmed through the open gates like water through a sieve. Rajac cared not however as blood, once again, began to call to him.
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1.3.9: The Burning City Volume 1: Arc 3: Chapter 9 The last chapter of volume 1. OK. So you guys had issues with the last chapter. I get it. Don''t really agree with some of the comments but what can you do? Anyways, this is here for your enjoyment. I''ll be back between 5/6 to 5/8 as already discussed
December 09, 30 R.E The army of Abria washed through Kankur like a raging storm. Building were torched, houses were looted, and overall panic swept the civilians living within the city. The army, which had been steadfast in repelling the defenders, was scattered and disparate in the large city. Even they, the honorable and the brave, quailed against the onslaught of their one-time jailers. Still, they were soldiers and they had a duty to the citizens within Kankur; So, they rallied and pushed many of the Abrian soldiers out of the confines of the city; however, by the time this occurred, many citizens lay dead in the streets and the Council Building, a monumental, towering structure in the middle of the city burned. In a few hours, only the smoldering wreckage remained as ashes, pushed by a great wind, covered the surrounding buildings and people with soot, blackening their horns, clothes and faces. As many brave volunteers gathered at the Council Building to search the wreckage, the soldiers outside the city began to conduct a pitched battle. Screams and wails could be heard within and from without the city throughout the night. Only one man was immune to the cries of others. Rajac Rashak. He, who was covered in the blood of his enemies, roamed the battlefield striking down all Abrians who stood in his way. He grieved for his sister and the twisted thing that had once been his friend. This life was supposed to have been better than his last one. Is that not what the program promised? Then why¡­why did this feel so¡­real? This thought pounded in his head as he cut down soldier after soldier, his senses immune to the men¡¯s¡¯ cries. That night, he bathed in a river of blood. His own men, those who were called brave, loyal, and honorable by the citizens looked upon their captain with utter terror at the path he carved through the enemy. He was a true monster upon the battlefield. A blight to his enemies. A Siren to his allies. And so, everywhere Rajac when, carving a path, so too did the Kankur army. They charged, they rallied, and they pushed. Fire tore behind them as their beautiful city burned. But, many citizen volunteers, who risked their own safety, slowly, but surely, began to douse the fire with buckets of water. As night turned into day and the battle still raged, many of those who perished in the night were found as charred corpses in the morning. Included in those corpses, were four of the six Council members; only Tai Rashak who lived on her farm and Jalai Manos, a healer who was within the healing tents when the attack occurred, survived. Many others were counted among the corpses. So many, the citizen volunteers lost count. But, they knew the number was well over one-thousand. ~ Muhal backed away from his men; his face, shining with sweat, was pinched into a worried and slightly desperate expression. He had not expected things to go so sour once he actually made it into the city. His men, after first entering, had torn the gate down so even if the Ventros managed to take bake the gate, they would not be able to impede Muhal for very long. Then, he and his men entered the Ventros city, which put up little resistance, and torched the place. Their duty was to destroy every last one of these Greater Race people and, if they somehow failed to complete it, they wanted to kill as many as possible before that happened. As an aside, it also created a mass hysteria that swept through the Ventros soldiers, as those who had been so adamant in defending the walls from his men, ran around like chickens with their heads cut off as soon as he burned their city. It was only when that man¡­Muhal sneered at the memory. That single man¡­He should have killed him when he had the chance. How many times had he wished it so in the last few weeks. But, orders had been orders. If only he had been in command ten years ago when he could have put a stop to this before it all began. Muhal sighed. That man has caused him no end of grief. He was the rallying cry of the soldiers who pushed Muhal¡¯s army out of the city and now, they were pushing them out of the valley all together. Harried and exhausted, his men stumbled over each other as they slowly backed away from the marauding soldiers who cut everything down that moved. It would be a total rout before long. And Muhal knew he would never be able to return to Abria. The rank he held, the men he commanded, the title he dreamed of; they would all be out of his reach. For a long time, Muhal considered abandoning his army. He had family in the southern kingdoms. He could return to them; it had been, after all, a very long time since he left. They, no doubt, would have forgiven him by now. In the end, though, he decided to stay. What was he without his men or his rank? Nothing that was what. And so, Muhal would fight for the remnants, the scraps, anything he could hold onto from this disaster of a day. ~ Rajac pushed forth not caring that he was exhausted, not caring that blood smeared him from head to toe, and not caring, just not caring at all. The remnants of Muhal¡¯s army stood in front of him. Exhausted and deprived of any break for hours. Rajac kept pushing them and his men followed as they cleaned up the wide, arching path he made. As Rajac thrust himself into the core of the Abrian soldiers; Muhal came to meet him. Their blades sang in chorus with the birds as they struck blow after blow at each other. The surrounding soldiers, on both sides, were thrown asunder by the force emanating from both of the men as they struck at each other, unrestrained. No words were spoken between the two men as they fought though Rajac had many questions and accusations he wanted to throw at Muhal, this was neither the time nor place for that. Both fought for their lives as they struck at one another dodging blows here and there and scoring strikes that stung like wild-fire had been seared into their very veins. Muhal struck down with his great sword, cleaving the earth in two. A fountain of dirt rose in the air, buffering the surrounding soldiers in a fine misting of dust. Rajac spun, moving from the Delight of the Unknown into the Truth of the Many as he struck quickly and effectively at Muhal¡¯s unguarded chest. Tendrils of fire coursed from Rajac as he willed Fire Elemental Magic to coat his blade in the elemental substance. Muhal hurriedly raised his sword from its prone position as he backed up, knocking aside each of Rajac¡¯s blows. After the sixth consecutive blow, Muhal trapped Rajac¡¯s sword by breaking the sword¡¯s movement against the flat of his blade. A sharp clang rang through the air as Rajac¡¯s arm jarred from the impact. In that split-second of discomfort, Muhal struck at Rajac as quick as a viper. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Rajac avoided the blow by a hair¡¯s breath as he shifted into the Cadence of Jin, stepping directly into the second step as he threw up a wall of Metal Auxiliary Magic. Sweat coursed down both of their faces now as they bent low in their stances, more to keep themselves up, than for defensive purposes. As they fought, the remaining soldiers around them had, once again, begun their pitched battle. The Kankur soldiers, whose moral was currently high, began to box in and hack away at the Abrian soldiers, whose moral plummeted with every retreating step they had to take. Muhal glanced back at his men, a pained, sorrowful expression on his face. There was no hope now. All was lost. He had revealed his last card and it had not worked. Raising his sword, he prepared his final charge. He did not do this for Lord Gaya or even for his men. He did it for himself. He had always wanted to be¡­someone. Someone with stature, importance, believability and creditability not just associated with his race or clan name. In Abria, he had that. And now, with all of that disappearing before his eyes, he had nothing left to lose. Rajac¡¯s emotions were in turmoil as he fought Muhal. How could a man be so callous as to casually look behind him, notice his men were dying, and not sound a retreat? Was he so loyal to his master that their lives meant nothing to him? Did his sister¡¯s death mean nothing to the man? Or Temos¡¯? Rajac beat against Muhal, tearing a small flap of skin from his face in the process. Muhal growled in frustration as he threw Fire Elemental Magic at Rajac who dodged it easily; however, as Rajac was forming a spear of Metal Auxiliary Magic, Muhal struck again, not even waiting for his magic to miss Rajac. With his sword arm extended, he lunged at Rajac, howling like a madman. The sword went straight through Rajac¡¯s arm, tearing the muscle in the process. As Muhal pulled his sword out, Rajac hissed in pain as his left arm hung limply at his side, too numb to move. Rajac threw himself onto Muhal and did not even attempt to use his sword. Smashing his forehead into Muhal¡¯s own, he corralled Muhal to the ground where they grappled. Muhal, frantically, attempted to free himself from Rajac¡¯s grip and even restored to biting in his attempts. Rajac, though, was too focused upon his objective to care at this point. Using his head once again, he pounded it against the membrane that held Muhal¡¯s brain. Pound! Pound! Pound! Splurrch! One of Rajac¡¯s horns pierced the membrane and impaled the brain, throwing viscera and brain matter every which way like a squeezed grape. Muhal¡¯s body became limp as he entered death¡¯s embrace. Rajac, finally feeling that the matter was done, rose and looked around. The Kankur soldiers were busy finishing off the remaining Abrian soldiers who were huddled together courageously defending against the multitude arrayed against them. The fire that lit Kankur alight the previous night had been extinguished and the healing tents were over-crowded with the injured, sick, and volunteers. A new day would dawn in Kankur. Rajac let his emotions return to him and all he could do was weep. Tears of salty brine mixed with blood trailed down his face as he walked, alone, away from the battlefield. ~ That day would always be known in the legends of the Ventros as the day the shackles had been thrown from their long-suffering servitude. It was the day a hero became a villain and a villain a hero. A day where the Council, once a hall-mark of Ventros society, was abandoned. Over the next few months, times changed in Kankur. Many blamed the Council for their lack of control over the situation. If not for the hero, then the day would have been lost, many of the citizens cried. And so, the Duchy of Kankur was established making the Western Territories four ¡®dukes¡¯ swell into five. An unknown, Salas Teras, was chosen by the selecting committee to become duke. It was said, more rumors than anything else, that he was a patient, quick-witted, and wise man. While many held back their opinions, there was cautious optimism that this new duke would be a boon for their growing city. Many burials resulted from that day. Among them, the daughter of former Council-Member, Nisa Rashak, was buried. Her ceremony was grand and ostentatious as she was the brother to the hero as well. The army was reformed once again. Base Commander Yaka Ishan recruited like mad that following spring. The decimated army swelled into a force of nine-hundred men. When the recruits who joined asked where Captain Rajac was, their elders always gave them side-long glances. Many had wished to join the army just because of the captain. As ambition clouds many men, those who strive for greatness always tend to congregate towards those who are already grate. But, the captain was nowhere to be found. The officers, who fielded these questions from their men, turned them away stone-faced and tight-lipped. If they knew where the captain had gone, they weren¡¯t saying. And so, time passed and the Duchy of Kankur grew. Rumors of its existence spread far and wide. Within the Western Territories, the maligned and mistreated races of the other duchies began to travel towards Kankur which held their only hope for a peaceful life. ~ Somewhere, far distant to the Western Territories and the Duchy of Kankur, a lone travel wearing a thick traveling cloak walked slowly up the dusty road towards a city in the far distance. Other travelers passed him at a far quicker pace as they hurried towards their destination in a mad rush. But this travel was in no hurry. He had nowhere to be. He had completed all that he wished in this life. There had been difficulties-obstacles to overcome, complications from his decisions, and an impatience that had bread obstinacy and idiocractic thought. But, success, in the end, was a fine medal to hang upon his mantel. A reminder to what he achieved and what it had cost to achieve it. He smiled sadly as he thought on all that he had lost during this long journey. As the wind whipped over his hood and though his hair, trailing dust between it¡¯s dark strands, if one looked closely, they would have seen the tips of ivory horns before the man casually pulled the hood down against the wind even as it buffeted his hand gently as if it were prodding him to show, to the world, his true nature.
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2.0.0: A Widening of the World Volume 2: Prologue There are many things to discuss so I will put them in bullet points. 1. Chapters will now be released in blocs. Either in 1/2 arcs or full arcs depending on how you answer the poll above. If you want to know the progress of the release, check the FAQ page. The link is at the bottom of the page. a. This was done for a few reasons. First, Vol 1 was a rushed mess, in my opinion, at the end. It needed better editing. b. A lot of you like to binge read. c. RL is hectic right now and I doubt I could give you a concrete schedule to when chapters would be out. 2. We have a ProofReader. Give a round of applause to Nolo. He did not work on this chapter as he is busy editing volume 1. 3. When he is finished editing volume 1, I will put it in kindle format for you guys. 4. A donation button has been added. If you guys would like to donate, I would be most grateful; it would definitely give me more time to write. 5. Pandora Akyri is making a cover page for the series. He is putting in a lot of effort to make it for us. In a few weeks, you''ll see a better, more apt cover than the one I have now. 6. Please rate the series. A few more good ratings and I am in the top 50. That''s all. Please vote on the chapter poll above. It would be helpful. Thanks
June 05, 32 R.E As time passes, so too do memories. Emotion, the construct in how memories are understood, is a fleeting state of mind. Actions that result from this surge of emotion, therefore, are always ill-fated and doomed to fail. Or, that is at least what most scholars would say. Lord Gaya, on the other hand, was of a different mindset. He sat with his advisors in an anti-chamber that spoke of the resplendence of the palace but highlighted the impoverished-nature of the region through the advisors¡¯ pallid garb, which contrasted to the Demi-God¡¯s robes of ornate perfection. A lite tapping rent the air as Gaya drummed a single finger on the table in frustration. ¡°You¡¯re telling me to ignore¡­this¡­this¡­insult?¡± ¡°My Lord,¡± Besat, one of his advisors¡­.of something said. There were over fifty men seated at the table and all of them had some function or other. It was hard to keep track of one single, unimportant advisor. ¡°Word has already spread throughout the province that Muhal failed my Lord,¡± the advisor said as he adverted his eyes from Lord Gaya respectfully. ¡°We have not received confirmation that he failed yet,¡± another of his advisors, Nacom, a Dreloth, said. ¡°My Lord,¡± Besat said, ignoring Nacom, ¡°It has been over three years since Muhal left. It was known that Muhal was to bring back the heads of the Greater Race and within the last year, rumors began to emerge that he failed. Now, many consider it as fact.¡± Gaya noticed, even as Besat tried to hide it, the implicit understanding that it was he, Gaya, whom announced word of Muhal¡¯s mission to retrieve the Ventros Greater Race. ¡°Does it truly matter that the citizens know that Muhal failed?¡± Gaya said, changing the direction of the conversation. Unlike Nacom, he had no doubts that Muhal failed. If he succeeded, he would have returned long ago. There was nothing that could have held him up this long. ¡°My Lord, if I may.¡± Jalak, a Zalot advisor at the end of the table interjected. Gaya nodded his head indifferently. ¡°My Lord,¡± Jalak said gravely. ¡°If you wish to punish the Ventros, send a larger army by all means¡­¡± ¡°No you bloody can¡¯t!¡± Thenral shouted Jalak down. Gaya actually knew Thenral¡¯s position, Marshall of Abria. Frankly, it would be ridiculous for him not to know his Marshall well as nearly a quarter of his time was spent dealing with the many skirmishes that erupted across the borders of the Demi-God regions. He also knew the point Thenral would make. The army was holding the border fine at the moment but a sudden reduction of soldiers, far larger than the five-hundred he sent with Muhal, could affect Abria¡¯s border security drastically. Gaya sighed. Holding Court was tedious in the best circumstances. But when there was a problem without a solution, his advisors bickered like schoolchildren. Nacom had continued to speak even as Gaya drowned him out as he pondered his own thoughts. ¡°¡­people have affixed it in their minds that the Ventros Greater Race broke your law and remained unpunished. There are rumblings that some of the other races consider risking your wrath as they plan to depart the region. My humble suggestion is to make the people forget that the Ventros ever left.¡± ¡°And how,¡± Gaya growled. ¡°Do you plan to make that occur?¡± He had chosen his advisors for their practicality. When he was granted this region by his elders, Abria was no more than flat grassland and a few forest clusters. The one asset Abria had, when he arrived, was the many Greater and Epic races who lived within the territory at the time. As one does with an asset, he attempted to secure it at all costs. Therefore, he ordained his one law. If one enters Abria, they are not allowed to leave again. Over the centuries, there were a few who broke this rule but they were individuals only-insignificant in the bigger picture; however, a whole race escaping together. That was unquestionably a disaster. Seven thousand mortal¡¯s worth of assets. Further, they were a Greater Race. Those of the Greater and Epic Races were more likely to have a higher production rate, military capacity, and intelligence quotient than those of the lesser mortal races. The citizens, they believed he kept his one law because he loved his ¡®toys¡¯. Their proof was the Circle. A popular pastime among his soldiers, it was where criminals of the Greater and Epic races were sent when they broke his one law or the normal laws egregiously. But, the purpose of the Circle was not to entertain. Its purpose was to show what would happen to Greater and Epic races that disobeyed the laws of Abria. And it worked, for the most part. At least, until this disaster occurred. Now, according to Nacom, some of the races were attempting to leave right out from under his nose. ¡°There are a few options,¡± Nacom said considering. ¡°But the best way, in my humble opinion, is to start a war with another Demi-God.¡± Gaya sat back in his chair, surprised. It had been a long time since the Demi-Gods within the region went to war with one another. There was a tacit understanding that any military conflict would be small in scale as to not draw the ire of the Gods who looked down from the Regas Realm. It could work. He would have to send out some feelers to his clan and get their opinion. A few of them served at the behest of the God-Kings in the Regas Realm; perhaps, with their persuasion, Gaya could conduct his small, insignificant war in the Mortal Realm without any interference from above. In that way, he could retain control of his people and perhaps gain some territory as well. ~ This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Salas Teras did not like his new role. Bookish and quiet in nature, he was not meant to rule. For many years while in the Sanctuary, he owned a small coffee shop where some of the younger Ventros came to relax and remove the stress of living in Abria. During the decade he ran the store, he came to know many of the younger Ventros intimately. He always spoke to them as equals as he, himself, was still young back then. When the Council made the decision to leave the Sanctuary, he reluctantly packed up his shop and was one of the first groups to travel to their new home. In the newly built city, Kankur, Salas set up another small coffee shop, which was once again, visited by many of the younger Ventros. Not that there were many older Ventros left after the massacre at the Battle of Abria. Salas tried to continue on with his life in the same way he always had. Run his store, relax with his books, and think upon the world; however, times were changing and swift winds carried all on their currents. The Council began to make decisions that became increasingly unpopular with the youth of Kankur. Without the elderly to offset the brashness of youth, the belief in many long-held traditions including the Council fell by the wayside. When the foolish decision, thankfully ignored by the army, to meet the Abrian army outside the gates was made, many of the youths gathered in his shop to vent angrily about the wool-headed Council. The final straw, though, was a few weeks later when the Kankur was lit alight by the marauding Abrian army. After the Kankur army, led by Captain Rajac, pushed back the Abrian army and eventually defeated it, many of the youths stormed to the streets, intent on protesting the lack of security within the city; however, when they reached the Council building they found it a smoldering ruin. New Council members had to be chosen and as so few elderly remained, all four chosen were youths who commonly visited Salas¡¯ shop. Soon after they were chosen, they decreed the Council was annulled and a selecting committee would be formed to find a Duke suitable to rule Kankur alone. Many weeks passed as the four youths, Kain Manos, Ceris Talworn, Lakos Talworn, and Esec Ishan, perused over candidates discarding each and every one. Salas was always there, talking with his old customers in a genial, friendly manner as he imparted the glimmerings of wisdom he had obtained from his vast quantity of books. Many of these flecks of wisdom concerned the aptitude of the governors, the qualities a governor should strive to emulate, and the finer points of economic theory that a governor would need to understand to rule effectively. Salas, unconcerned of what others thought of him, spoke frankly and with a glimmer of intelligence that sparked an idea within the four members of the selecting committee. After only a few hours of deliberation, Salas was chosen as the first Duke of Kankur. Reluctantly, he accepted his post. He knew many of the theories of governance from his books and felt that if he had been chosen, there must have been a reason. Though, as he sat on his throne and attempted to listen to the boarish Delegate from the Merchant¡¯s Guild give his report on the monthly grain counts, he felt no like a Duke at all. He was just an actor playing his part. He just hoped he would grow into it. ~ Gomperi Zalahad flicked his sword out to his side. Droplets of blood flew from the tip, splattering the countless corpses littered on the forest floor. The remnants of his army stood at his back, heaving from the long day¡¯s exertion. This scene was all too common in the Western Territories. The four Dukes raged against one another in a very similar way to the Demi-Gods to the north of the Akiean Kingdom; however, unlike the Demi-Gods, they were not restrained by the watchful eyes of the Gods. War tore through the Western Territories season after season with no end in sight. Gomperi had been through many-a-war but he had never lost sight of his goal. He was Duke of Lethari; Lethari, a city that sat upon the coast of the Alaklath Sea, only held a small portion of the Western Territories. But, its territory was vastly rich in minerals and arable land. The other Dukes, jealous of his resources, often made war against his small city; however, Lethari had one asset the others could only match, not overcome. His army of ten-thousand had a core of three-hundred experts; Gomperi, himself, was an expert over level three-hundred. Though, long ago, he had learned to discount the level of his opponent and even himself. The path one took was, by far, the more important. The Duke of Canthos, Dashish Kahail, was over level 300, as well. But, Dashish chose to bind his soul to his heart. Gomperi was easily 100 times the swordsman Dashish was. But, Dashish would most likely outlive all the other Dukes. Gomperi had been stuck at the level 400 bottleneck for 438 years. Only 72 years remained in his life before his soul could no longer keep his flesh and consciousness alive. Still, Gomperi strived to complete his goal. Long ago, long even before he passed the level 100 threshold, Gomperi came to the conclusion that the only way his city would be safe was through the unification of the Western Territories. As much as the other Dukes warred upon him, Gomperi warred upon them, perhaps even more. For, he knew that the other Dukes, whoever they were, would not stop invading his territory until it was their own. The violence would never stop until one man controlled all four duchies. That fifth one on Creva Mountain he would have to see about. Some of his people, the poor, the wretched, and the maligned began to seek shelter there; he did not stop them. In fact, he aided them slightly by providing them with travel goods. Of course, Gomperi put a few of his men in their midst. He needed to learn the intentions of this new Duchy. Would they make war upon the other Dukes as had been the practice for so long? Or would they remain in seclusion on top their lonely mountain? Few traveled to Cera Mountain. It was an unforgiving climb and only in the higher reaches did the land become arable enough to farm. Many deaths would accompany those attempting to make the journey. But, for some, it was better than the alternative. Wiping his sword on his cloak, Gomperi turned back to his men. Shouts and the steady crunch of boots could be heard from beyond the treeline. There would, no doubt, be more killing today.
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2.1.1: A Cleansing Process Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 1 AUTHOR''S NOTE Yes, I got this out much earlier than planned. The rest of the chapters will be out tomorrow morning 730 am EST. In the future, I will have chapters out on the weekends as asked; however, this weekend I am nowhere near a computer so this was the best I could do. Please rate the series here http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666. I would be most grateful. Thanks
September 17, 32 R.E Abhar Tulain stood with an erect posture, overlooking his students below as they practiced their sword forms. His auburn hair, curling into ringlets over the ears, was turning grey in places as his age began to show, in spite of the effects training with the soul had on his body. He had passed the level 100 threshold in his forties. That had been twenty years ago. In all likelihood, he would never pass the level 200 threshold. He was far from reaching it. There were at least fifteen more bottlenecks before he reached that precipice and he neither had the time or energy to reach for that lofty height. He would die. Not soon; he would live longer than normal for a human. But he would die all the same. It mattered not. He had done much in this life. Seen much as well. If he was one of those fools who sought immortality, he would have bound his soul to his heart long ago. Three years ago, he opened this training hall. Experts from all around Mushan flocked to learn from him. It was not every day that one could learn from an expert who passed the level 100 threshold. He was content. As he walked between his students, many of whom used the Kandaji Style, he made slight corrections to their forms. Without saying a word, he gripped elbows, pushed knees, and bent hips to correct their slight imperfections. The students nodded or made grunts of acknowledgment as they continued to train ceaselessly. As Abhar helped a student of a particularly small stature modify his Thakan Form to match his frame, the wide, oaken doors to the training hall creaked open. Dust-speckled sunlight highlighted a man that stood in the training hall¡¯s entrance. A cloak shadowed his face while a sword hung at the man¡¯s hip as he walked through the hall, the door clanging shut in his wake. As the man moved closer to the students, they backed away respectfully. Every so often, experts came to challenge Abhar. He accepted each and every challenge. It was a good way to keep his forms in shape and to spread the name of his school even if he lost. Though, he rarely did. The man walked up to Abhar who noticed off-handily how tall the man was. His dark, knee length cloak outlined refined muscles on a thin, but athletic frame. A few locks of black, almost purplish hair cascaded down the man¡¯s refined, but not handsome face, to his neck where a striking teardrop chain made of a brightly polished metal hung proudly. And what was under that hood? It looked as if there more than a few protrusions coming out from the top. Abhar shrugged to himself. There were more than a few experts who were of the Beast Races. This man might be one of them. Perhaps he wished to hide his face due to the scrutiny it would cause. Abhar could understand that sentiment. ¡°Are you Abhar the Wind-Rider?¡± The man asked. He had a deep, sonorous voice that echoed throughout the small training hall and sent chills down Abhar¡¯s spine. ¡°I am.¡± Abhar said as he peered into the man¡¯s hood. All he saw was the darkness within. As he wet his lips, Abhar asked, ¡°And who are you?¡± The stranger waved a hand unconcernedly. ¡°My name does not matter. You wouldn¡¯t know it in any case.¡± Abhar laughed at that. Experts who passed the Level 100 threshold, as this one clearly had, were known throughout the continent. Even if he was new to his title, his name would be recognized within the community. ¡°Ah. Very well.¡± Abhar said as he chuckled. He could not force the man if he wanted to remain anonymous. All it did was make Abhar all the more curious about his identity. ¡°What is it you want? A match isn¡¯t that correct?¡± The stranger nodded solemnly. ¡°And you still won¡¯t tell me your name?¡± Abhar asked. ¡°No. As I said before, it would mean nothing to you. I only wish to test my mettle against yours.¡± Abhar caught the slight hint of a grin as the hood shifted up slightly and revealed a corner of the mouth. Abhar thought that the expert was odder than most. Experts who traveled the continent and searched out others of their caliber usually did so to spread their name outside the community. On the other hand, this expert refused to divulge his name. Abhar suspected the man might value his training over any fame he might gain as a result. Abhar had heard of a few who did but had never met any. Abhar, himself, was not one. There were pleasures in life that did not revolve around continuously fighting or training. The quiet comfort of a loved one, the sweet scent of flowers in luxurious gardens, sleeping in the afternoon. These were just a few of the many things Abhar enjoyed other than training. And, perhaps, it was theses reasons he would never be able to pass, nor even try for the level 200 threshold. Abhar sighed. ¡°Very well, stranger. But when I claim victory, I shall unmask you and find out your identity.¡± The expert let out a harsh bark of laughter as he settled into a defensive posture and revealed his sword. It was a curious weapon. Not for its refinement or polish, but for its plainness. There were a few scratches along its edge and the hilt grasped by the expert was covered in rough-shod leather that looked as though it had been sewn by an amateur tailor. Abhar slowly pulled out his own sword, Meket, from the sheath at his belt. The large Sadat gleamed in the enameled pommel as he settled into his own defensive stance. As a practitioner of Themat Variation of Kandaji, Abhar was always faster than his opponent. Wind Elemental Magic was the primary tool used in every form of the Themat Variation. In fact, it was impossible to use without Wind Elemental Magic. ¡°Shall we go to first blood?¡± Abhar asked as he filled the Sadat with his will, prepared to move first. The expert nodded once as he raised his sword. ¡°Very well. Let us begin!¡± Abhar grunted as he propelled himself forward with his Wind Elemental Magic. Stepping into the Haj Form, Abhar moved behind the expert in the blink-of-an-eye. All that could be heard was a small whisper of wind at his movement. With the flick of his sword, Abhar threw a scythe of wind at the back of the expert. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Without turning, the expert did something strange¡­ A gigantic metallic wall coalesced in mid-air, buffeting his wind strike. A few of his students were struck by the dissipating blast. Even then, the strike was powerful enough to send a few to the ground in pain. Abhar realized this fight could truly become dangerous for his students. The expert¡¯s magic was truly magnificent. After he motioned for his students to head toward the second level, Abhar turned to the expert. The expert could have struck Abhar as he turned towards his students. His victory would have been all but assured. Many would have leapt at the chance. The fame garnered from defeating Abhar the ¡°Wind-Rider¡± was worth it. But, as Abhar suspected, this expert sought no fame. Before Abhar could say anything, the expert said solemnly, ¡°I regret that I did not restrict my magic. Some of your students could have become seriously injured.¡± Abhar nodded in thanks. ¡°It is my fault. I took too few precautions before the bout. There are few experts who reached the level 100 threshold that could completely block my blow.¡± Abhar¡¯s curiosity gnawed at him but he restrained himself. When he claimed victory over this expert, he would find out who this unknown was. Even if the expert wished to remain anonymous, after this day, it was doubtful he would be for long. ¡°Are you ready?¡± Abhar asked as he once again bent into his defensive formation. The expert nodded and raised his sword as both prepared to begin the bout in earnest. Abhar moved into the Niku Form. With quick-steps, he walked on the wind as he lunged at the expert. A pulsating wave tore through the training hall as the expert blocked his sword with a quick flick of the wrist. The forced splintered the wooden wall directly opposite the dueling pair. The expert turned out of the blow, ducked, and threw small, metallic spikes at Abhar¡¯s chest. Creating a wall of wind, Abhar stopped the projectiles in mid-air. As he pushed forward and attacked the expert directly, he marveled at how versatile this expert was. Stepping back into Haj, Abhar skirted to the side of the expert. This time, however, instead of throwing a wind scythe at the expert, he took another step in Haj, until they were only a pace away, before he struck out with Meket. Expecting to feel the tearing of skin, Abhar stood silently after his motion for a single moment. The tearing sensation, however, never came. The expert threw up a wall of earth directly in the path of Abhar¡¯s sword, Meket, impeding its progress mere inches from the expert¡¯s skin. Again, the expert spun away from Abhar, his dark cloak twirling as he did. Abhar was breathing heavily now. The use of Magic taxed the human body. Humans, lacking a Thismus, relied on a Sadat to channel Magic and the Soul to use Magic. Races with a Thismus, on the other hand, relied on the organ to use Magic and the Soul to channel Magic. Experts of lesser races were at a disadvantage to those of Greater and Epic origin as they were restricted by the limitations of the Sadat. To overcome this issue, Abhar bound his Soul to the nerves within the wrists. It was common practice for experts of lesser races as the link between an expert and his Sadat was best if they were physically close. Abhar turned, stepping back into Haj, as the expert darted toward him with his sword coated in Fire Elemental Magic. A ripple of heat passed over Abhar¡¯s face as he stepped back and narrowly avoided the blow. Stepping to the side, Abhar lashed out again with a gust of wind. It crashed into another wall of metal the expert threw up. Abhar, as he advanced, grit his teeth and mentally cursed the fortitude of those walls. They were well-matched against the Themat Variation. The expert struck out with his sword and met Abhar head on as he advanced. The clang of blows swept through the training hall once again. Four, five, six, seven consecutive blows were met by the duelists as they spun and danced in the middle of the training hall, kicking up flurries of dust as they went. Abhar was beginning to feel drained as they continued to fight. A wave of exhaustion hit him as he swung his eighth consecutive blow at the expert. The expert dodged the blow with a few quick steps before he lunged forward and struck out with Fire Elemental Magic. ¡°Gahh!¡± Abhar groaned as he attempted to dodge with Haj Form. He was too slow. A portion of the fire lanced up his arm even as he moved. Quickly, he put the fire out with a gust of wind but the damage was done. He had lost the fight. As he looked at the expert, Abhar heaved out a breath, exhausted to the bone. ¡°Remarkable. I¡¯ve rarely been so worn out from a fight.¡± The expert chuckled heartily. ¡°I think that is the point.¡± With a slight bow to Abhar, the expert said in a more solemn tone, ¡°I do thank you for the duel Abhar. I traveled a long way to come fight you.¡± ¡°My pleasure. My pleasure.¡± Abhar said with a chuckle as his students looked on with awe at these two great experts. Of the millions of experts on the continent, only a few thousand actually reached the level 100 threshold. Even though it was a common sight to see their master duel one of these famed experts, it was always a marvel to see. ¡°If there is nothing else, I believe I will take my leave. Once again, it was a pleasure.¡± Sheathing his sword, the expert turned to leave. A faint sense of panic rose in Abhar then. This expert who defeated him could not remain nameless. He needed to know who he lost to. Even though he gave up passing the level 200 threshold long ago, his pride as an expert still remained. And with it, the names of all the experts he lost to over the years. Hastily, Abhar called after him, ¡°Stranger, your name, will you give it?¡± The expert half turned, his face hidden in shadow, and said as he caressed his teardrop chain, ¡°As I said, it matters not. But if you insist, I am called Rajac.¡± With that, Rajac opened the oaken doors to the training hall and left an introspective Abhar in his wake.
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2.1.2: Repercussions Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 2 AUTHOR''S NOTE Thanks for all the ratings. I should have, but forgot due to tiredness, to include a thanks to the PR''s of these chapters. Krndark pr''d chapter 1 for me and Kyren pr/analyzed my logic for 1-4. I wanted to note that all these characters will be important for at least volume 2. Some all the way up to volume 4. So, while you may think this is starting a little slow, it is somewhat necessary and....nah just read it...hate to spoil the next few chapters.
September 17, 32 R.E Rajac clutched the small, emblematic teardrop as he walked down the steps of the training hall. His cloak shielded him from the crowds as he maneuvered masterfully between the mayhem of the streets of Dabuj. He felt calm inside. This had not always been the case. After the Siege of Kankur and the incidents that followed, Rajac had been in turmoil. His sister¡­his friend. He could not understand. Unable to stay in Kankur with the memories, he left. Rajac only told Yaka of his impending departure as he had to maintain command of the army; however, he only left a letter for his parents. Guilt still gnawed at him for that act but, even now, he could not say with certainty that he would have acted any differently. He would have spoken to his parents but, after her death, he found it difficult to face them. It was his fault, after all. He left her alone with¡­him. Rajac felt a scowl form as his face as he squeezed between two obstinately thick men. He kept in touch often with both of his parents. Guilt still tinged his memories as he thought of the long years\ he was unable to write his family. Rajac also frequently wrote to Yaka who gave him monthly reports on the progress of the army and the new Duke. At the moment, there was little to warrant a return to Kankur. Even though many of the people now saw him as a hero for his actions after the Siege of Kankur, Yaka still managed the day-to-day bureaucracy of the army; further, he now sat on the Duke¡¯s Council as the military advisor. And, there was that reluctance. Memories flashed in his mind and nearly blinded him with their force. He shook his head once to clear it. Memories were meant to stay in the past. For the past two years, he had trained harder than he had ever trained before. Harder even than his time in the Circle. His level rose dramatically; but, it mattered little. Even if his level reached 199, it would not matter if his soul did not grow to be 25% of his mass. Currently, it was at 17%. This was remarkable for the time-frame. His eyes were exceptionally keen now. He saw new amalgamations of color every day he grew stronger, birds far off in the distance were clear to him, and when he fought, Rajac saw the quick, lighting speed movements of his opponents a fraction slower which gave him an inherent advantage over any evenly matched opponent. If he was not so focused and driven to train, he would, at best, have grown his soul to 8% of his mass. Every day, he sought new challenges, overcame new obstacles, and pushed himself to extremes that many would consider torture. Every honorable expert he came across, he dueled. Honor was a curious word. Nobles used it as a cloak to shield the truth of their actions from the masses, soldiers used it to lift morale among their brethren, and to experts, it was a dividing line. Many experts, especially Clients, stopped training at a certain level as they reveled in the fame of their station and the implicit power it held. These experts, Rajac never fought. They would cheat, lie, and purposefully maim or kill in order to win a duel. Their reputation was everything to them and they would protect it at all costs. If his sister¡¯s death and Temos¡¯ betrayal taught him anything, it was that trust was earned and more brittle than one could ever imagine. No longer did he take a word as truth on its own. Actions were more believable. And so, he searched for the type of men whose actions spoke the loudest of honor. Even if they were above the level 200 threshold. He lost every time to them; however, the experience he gained helped him grow his soul dramatically. Abhar was such a man. He was known as a brutal and merciless warrior. Rumors said he piled up bodies like flies in a web. Rajac, though, noted Abhar¡¯s pension to fight any who came before him. After he spoke to a variety of people in the city, the reputable and unreputable, he discovered most of the rumors about the man were false; his opponents, angered over their defeats, spread rumors about him to lessen his reputation. It spoke highly of Abhar that these men were still left alive after their slanderous statements against him. Rajac had repeated this process many times as he fought experts from all around Vashin. He knew the fights would be fair, and so, he used them to train emphatically and grow his soul dramatically. Though, he took precautions like the hooded-cloak he wore at all times. Many of the older noble families remembered the Ventros. Most of them thought they only remained in history books. The formation of the Duchy of Kankur had not reached this far south yet as it had only been a little over a year since its formation. Rajac would not be the one to notify the Ventros¡¯ old enemies that his race still existed. The Clans still remembered their enemies and a fire still burned in their bellies at the disrespect they had been shown. Even if it had been centuries, the animosity between the Ventros and their enemies would rise again when Kankur¡¯s name became known outside of the Western Territories. War would come, whether it was with the Dukes of the Western Territories where war reigned supreme or the old enemies of the past. Time would tell. For now, peace would prevail. Rajac sighed as he walked through the gates of Dabuj and left the bedlam of the city behind to begin his search, once again, for a new opportunity to train all the harder. ~ Yaka tapped his quill, annoyed. Even he, the archetypal bureaucrat could grow frustrated at the endless parade of meetings he had to attend as an advisor to the Duke; well, he shouldn¡¯t really be frustrated. Today¡¯s series of meetings were important for the future of Kankur. It was just that there were so many of them. For weeks now, he¡¯s been stuck in musty rooms as he overlooked and signed documents; he¡¯d had little, if any, real freedom to oversee the army as he wished for a long time now as the economic concerns of Kankur took precedent. With the massive influx of people from the surrounding Duchies over the last two years, Kankur expanded to include four large suburbs aptly named, the Northern Quarter, the Southern Quarter, the Eastern Quarter, and the Western Quarter. Kankur was quickly running out of room on the top of Cera Mountain. To alleviate the problem, Duke Seras opened discussions with Duke Cajin Hephos of Poshani to purchase a one-hundred square mile section of land at the base of Cera Mountain in exchange for an exclusive trading contract with Kankur for a twenty years span. But, the negotiations had gone sideways when both parties differed on the projected economic growth of Kankur over that span. It wasn¡¯t as if Poshani couldn¡¯t afford it. They were, by far, the largest and richest Duchy in the Western Territories. Yaka looked up at the fat, balding Kinji Ambassador. An elf variant, the Kinji Race could only be described as squalid. There mismatched fur of black and yellow covered a protuberance of girth to make their rotund forms appear very non-elvish. As the Ambassador gesticulated wildly as he spoke in a rapid manner, Yaka, dissatisfied, turned away as he wished for these meetings to end so he could return to his beloved army. ~ Duke Seras had no such luck. It was his duty to listen to the obnoxious and, some might say, foul-mouthed Poshani Ambassador. ¡°It can¡¯t possibly be. It can¡¯t¡­¡± Bastul, the Ambassador repeated stiffly. ¡°Ambassador Bastul,¡± Seras said, as he sat up straighter, his fine, burgundy robes overlaid with golden thread shifting on the rough wood of his high-backed chair. ¡°These terms are only fair. It is you who is being obstinate.¡± Sears spoke in the genial manner he used with the rowdier crowd who sometimes frequented his shop. It was meant to soothe tempers and heal bruised egos. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. It had not worked yet with the Ambassador but Seras continued to try. Kankur was in desperate need of land. Duke Cajin had it. He was willing to give it to Kankur. For a steep price, that was. A price Seras continuously refused to pay. Kankur was not weak, and yet, Poshani treated it as such. It was true Kankur¡¯s army had fewer experts by far than the other Dukes. Currently, Kankur only had one expert who had passed the level 100 threshold. Captain Rajac. And he wasn¡¯t even here at the moment. Yaka knew, but so far, he brushed the matter aside and repeatedly stated, ¡®The Captain is off training somewhere. When we need him, he will return. I promise you that.¡¯ And so, Seras gave the matter up. He had far more pressing concerns to deal with. Concerns, he felt, he was not qualified to deal with. Even with every success he accomplished and failure that haunted his dreams at night, the matter of the army still remained. Yaka was close to mastering Stepping Stones. He said it might be less than five years before he mastered the Ventros Sword Style. Seras sighed inwardly to himself, two experts were not enough to face any of the Dukes on the battlefield. Even if both were heralded as geniuses within Kankur, they were no more than rare gems on the continent. And so, the Poshani Ambassador felt like he could bully Seras to accept his deal. In the end, it might all come down to military might, Seras thought tiredly. Here, military power was true power and the other Dukes think us weak no matter how we feel on the matter. Kankur¡¯s economy had soared in the past few years with the influx of a population nearly triple the size of the original Ventros inhabitants. Many of those immigrants came from different duchies and races which created a cosmopolitan culture within Kankur. Diverse foods, music, paintings, sculptures, and technology could be found in any shop in the city. Yet, the other duchies took none of that wealth into account. They only saw military might. In the back of his mind, Seras felt there was some truth to that. The Western Territories was a wild region; one that had been ruled by war for eons. And perhaps, eons still. The Ambassador spread his large cheeks and huffed angrily, ¡°My Lord Kankur, Poshani has been rather forthcoming about our terms. It is you who approached us. Not the other way around.¡± Seras could only groan inwardly. How he wanted to throw this Ambassador and his entourage off the mountain. He could see how the men, who stood behind the Ambassador, leered at Seras¡¯ cotiere like they were sheep surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. ¡°We have offered fair terms in exchange for the land. You, on the other hand, have made only demands we cannot meet.¡± ¡°It is not so much. We only wish for our military to be allowed access to Creva Mountain. It is not such a large request. Afterall, it was you who claimed our territory without consent. Creva Mountain rightfully belonged to us; however, Duke Canji willingly annulled his claims to the mountain because he believes a partnership with Kankur is preferable.¡± The Ambassador said as he spread his hairy arms out wide. Seras let his scowl form on his lips and he watches as the Ambassador¡¯s smile falter. He had enough of this drivel. Even he, the ever-patient host, had a limit. Seras had just reached it. They had been over this point multiple times. It was, perhaps, the most awkward part of the negotiation. Creva Mountain was technically within Poshani¡¯s borders; however, it had been many centuries since any of its residents had lived there and it was abandoned until the Ventros claimed the land as their own. But, Poshani factored in that cost and demanded recompense for it. Sera was of a different mind. The only people who lived had lived here for centuries were the Rashak Clan; therefore, in his opinion, they held the title to Creva Mountain. Furthermore, Poshani desired military access to Creva Mountain. Poshani knew that if their army so much as stepped on Creva Mountain, then Kankur would have, all but declared itself, allied to Poshani. While in most circumstances, this would be a boon for Kankur; in the present conditions, an alliance without a written framework was as good a null to everyone but those who would benefit from misinterpreting the trade contract. Specifically, the other three duchies. Multiple times, already, the Ambassador had vehemently opposed an alliance with Kankur. He stated that it was not within Poshani¡¯s interests at the time. Frankly, it meant Poshani did not want to have to defend Poshani, as well as, Kankur. Seras, himself, was reluctant to join hands with Poshani but if the effect was the completion of the trade contract, it was worth it; however, no matter how tirelessly he negotiated, the Ambassador wouldn¡¯t budge. ¡°I think we are done here then. We will decide shortly upon the validity of the standing offer Please refer my gratitude to your Duke for taking this meeting.¡± Seras said slowly, his voice was a cool as ice. The Ambassador shook his head, rose, and said, ¡°The offer stands for one month¡¯s time. After that, negotiations will be closed.¡± With that final statement, the Poshani Ambassador walked out of the room, followed quickly by his staff. As soon as the door was closed, Seras turned to his advisors. ¡°Yaka, have some men follow the Ambassador down the mountain. Make sure none of his men remain behind.¡± Yaka nodded and rose. Security had become a high-priority in Kankur ever since Temos¡¯ betrayal. Even though Seras knew some spies slipped through the cracks, he fervently attempted to remove all the pests he could find. As Yaka left, Seras turned to the rest of his advisors. Many were diplomats, bankers, and guild-masters who could not call the Ventros Race their own. But, Seras trusted them. To a point. The one lesson, not written in any book, was that a ruler had to keep his own council. Everyone had their own agenda. Even Yaka. And so, when Yaka left to obey his commands, Seras sat back in his chair and waited. It was quite some time before someone actually spoke. When Cagrian, one of the finance advisors spoke, it was with a cough and a stutter. ¡°My Lord, this deal¡­.its¡­necessary. Already¡­we¡­have¡­chantilly constructed¡­housing in the Quarters to¡­house all the incoming inhabitants. In time¡­an alliance will be struck with¡­Poshani as it¡­continues to benefit from our trade contract.¡± Tegoin, a Zalot, and one of the diplomacy advisors, shook his head vehemently at Cagrian. ¡°Poshani will do no such thing. There is no intrinsic value in an alliance, now, or in the future. Our military power is too weak for them to even consider it. At best, we would be a mere Client-State while they controlled us with puppet strings. Even this deal¡­¡± Tegoin spit on the floor as a disgusted look passed over his face. ¡°It¡¯s not worth it. We would loose all autonomy even if we entered the deal on its current terms.¡± Rakom, a human and another of the diplomacy advisors, barked a laugh. ¡°That makes little sense Tegoin. This trade contract is our only recourse if you¡¯d open those bug-eyes of yours!¡± The table devolved into bickering advisors. Barbs were thrown and insults remembered until Duke Seras finally had enough. He slammed a palm down on the table as he finally lost his patience. The table instantly quieted down as all turned towards the perturbed Duke. ¡°You have the month to find the solution, otherwise, I will take the deal Poshani has offered. We are a standstill gentlemen; the path we take is an important one. You are integral parts of making a decision that will affect the lives of all who live here. Think wisely, my friends, for you have little time.¡± With that speech, Duke Seras rose, followed by his advisors who quickly bowed to him. He took one last look at the chastened men before he walked tensely out of the room.
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2.1.3: A Rarity On the Horizon Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 3 October 10, 32 R.E An early winter wind blew through the city of Vasat as Rajac walked through its mostly deserted streets. He gripped his cloak tightly around him as people too poor to own property huddled in alleyways and steps of shops for the flimsy warmth company could bring on such a day. His breath left a stream of mist in his wake as he walked slowly up the street. There was another expert he found who fit his parameters nicely within this city. Although, he had passed the level 200 threshold, Rajac was eager to fight Dalom. Dalom was a hand-to-hand fighter; there were few of those that had passed the level 100 threshold, let alone, 200. He had learned much about Dalom before he made his journey here, to this small, out of the way city on the border of Arosh. There had been much written about Dalom in his two-hundred-or-so years of life. Most of it was drivel. It praised him and his accomplishments but told of little else. But, there were a few sources that spoke of the man. All the sources agreed that Dalom was one of the most driven experts remaining in the Mortal Realm. Rajac turned a corner and headed up to Dalom¡¯s residence. Like most experts, he fancied himself a lord of sorts. The large manor, surrounded by stone walls, sat on a small hill in the center city. Two guards stood at the entrance to the manor, and as Rajac approached, they stepped forward and blocked his path. He flexed his soul outward slightly-just enough for them to feel the presence. A single look passed between both of the guards. ¡°Two in one day. That¡¯s never happened before.¡± One of the guards murmured to the other. ¡°Auspicious times, my friend.¡± The other responded quietly as he stole a look at Rajac. The first guard jerked his thumb towards the manor proper and said with a tinge of annoyance, ¡°You can go up. Doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯ll get a fight though.¡± A small frown crossed Rajac¡¯s lips. He¡¯d traveled many miles to fight this expert. It had begun to feel like a wasted journey. ¡°Is there someone up there with him now?¡± Rajac asked as he referred to the guard¡¯s previous comment. The guard nodded his assent. ¡°Some bloke ¡®or another came up nearly an hour ago. He¡¯s still up there so master¡¯s decided to fight him.¡± Rajac felt his insides twist into a knot. It was unlikely Dalom would want to fight two bouts in a row. But, he had come all this way. ¡°Thanks.¡± Rajac nodded at the guards as the let him by. He walked up the winding path of stone, lined with wilting lilacs, as he kept an ear out for any sounds coming from inside the manor. He heard nothing. Only the soft chirp of crickets and the cry of the birds broached the air. As Rajac approached the manor, he noticed that the tall-oak front door was open and swung, absently, with the wind. Hesitantly, Rajac pulled the hood of his cloak tightly over his head, pushed the front door to the manor open, and walked through it. He was met by a wide foyer that lay empty except two men. One of the men stood, his short, graying hair contrasted with the darkness of the room as he talked quietly with a man who sat at his feet. This man had striking features covered slightly by a reddish-mane that fell to the lining of his cut-off tunic, damp with sweat. As Rajac walked closer, he could see the man was wrapping bandages over long gouges that lined his wrists and forearms, as well as, a small, but perfectly clear, Ouroboros tattoo on his right shoulder. He was a Client. And clearly, he was not shy about that fact. Rajac stood, his mouth agape, in front of the two men. He had not expected a Client this far north. Due to their prevalence among the Humanoid Races, Clients generally populated the southern kingdoms of Mushan and Alochar on Vashin and the three great empires of the Kankun Continent, Ogbem, Bushin, and Halporth. While he traveled Mushan, he had steered clear of them; there was a tendency for most of the Client experts to stray towards a less-honorable path. Rajac assumed it was due to the type of person who would seek to live again. He, after all, was one of those Clients and he knew, before everything, he had been just as abhorrent, just as vain, and just as selfish. Even on Thantos, Rajac had acted in this manner. But, events shape people in many unforeseen ways. The Siege of Kankur changed Rajac and he still did not know if it was for the better. As he held his judgement in reserve, Rajac walked up to the two men. ¡°Dalom,¡± Rajac said solemnly, his face hidden within the recesses of his cloak, ¡°I have come for a duel to test my strength but,¡± Rajac looked down at the red-headed man, ¡°It seems you are occupied.¡± Dalom¡¯s lined face split into a wide grin as he leaned back and laughed loudly. ¡°HA! It¡¯s been a long time since something this interesting has happened. Tell me, my friend, would you be willing to wait a week? I would gladly fight you then. I will be fully healed from this bugger¡¯s fight. He may not looked like it, but he was a tough one.¡± Dalom spoke in a somewhat sardonic way that mixed bluntness with just the right amount of bravado to make him likeable. The effect worked well on Rajac who began to feel some camaraderie with Dalom. The red-headed man, though, was of a different opinion. At Dalom¡¯s words, his dark eyes flashed. But then, they cleared as if the emotion has never been. A twinkle now rested in the red-headed man¡¯s eyes as he said, in a throaty chuckle, ¡°Dalom, don¡¯t be modest. You easily bested me. Even if I fought you a hundred times, I would never be victorious.¡± Dalom shook his head adamantly as he said energetically, ¡°Kornth, when you pass the level 200 threshold, I doubt any will be able to block your Magic fully. I only defeated you today because your soul has not yet reached that plateau.¡± It seems, Rajac thought intently, that this Client, Kornth, had the same idea I did. Train by finding experts much stronger than you who are willing to fight without maiming or killing their opponents. ¡°Kornth,¡± Rajac interjected into the men¡¯s banter. It was time to get a better understanding of the situation. ¡°I have never seen a Client this far north. I thought most of you would be in the Orders¡¯ conflict on Kankun.¡± Rajac, in fact, knew very little of the Kankun Continent or what happened there. Most of what he knew was from a passing conversation; however, Rajac wanted to conceal his identity from this man. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.After all, Komth was a Client; one who would never die. Even if Komth, the man, died, his data would be transferred into another body. Rajac, of course, had no wish to reveal the fact that he was also a Client. Many problems could arise as a result including the possibility that Komth and he could become enemies one day. The kingdoms in Thantos were not very peaceful nations. Due to their large populations and limited resources, war was a common occurrence; experts were always at the forefront and, due to their very nature, made friends and enemies based upon the traditional lines drawn in the sand. Clients just added a larger, more complex variable to the mix that Rajac could deal without. Komth stood, flexed his hands lightly as the bandages creaked under the strain, looked up at Rajac, and frowned as he tried to peer under Rajac¡¯s hood. ¡°For a stranger, you are rather inquisitive.¡± Komth said finally. ¡°In this day and age, it hurts little to be careful. When I see something odd, I make sure to find out the reason; otherwise, I might find a knife in my back.¡± Rajac said as he pulled his hood farther down his face. ¡°Hmm.¡± Komth said as he pursed his lips. ¡°I have no allegiance if that is what you are asking. And my purpose this far north as you so bluntly put it, is the same as yours, I expect.¡± It was highly implausible that the man could have lived on Thantos this long and not sworn an allegiance to someone or something. It was only human nature. But, it was possible. Next time he wrote to Yaka, he would have to ask him to find more information on this¡­Komth. Nisa¡¯s death had not only born in him a resolve to strengthen himself but also a cynicism that, sometimes, he found disheartening. ¡°Still though, it is a long way to travel here from the south. There are many experts in the south who hold¡­the same personality.¡± Rajac said as he flicked his eyes towards Dalom who watched the pair, amusement creasing the lines around his mouth. Komth shrugged, nonchalantly. ¡°Never felt comfortable down there. People take themselves too seriously.¡± Rajac let out an uncontrollable snort at that statement. ¡°And it¡¯s all rainbows and sunshine in the north?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve never spent time in the Courts of the Kankunan Empires. Experts there¡­¡± Komth shook his head distractedly. ¡°Let us just say, it¡¯s very different in the south.¡± Dalom walked between the two men and touched both men on the shoulders. ¡°Now, I love a little interrogation. But, this is my house. If you want to continue this conversation, do so outside.¡± As he pushed both Rajac and Komth through the oaken doors, Dalom squeezed a hand down on Rajac¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Young man¡­¡± Dalom turned to Rajac as he paused. Inferring his meaning, Rajac quickly stated his named. ¡°Right¡­you come back a week from this date and I will face you then. Until then¡­¡± With the sentence hanging in the air, Dalom snapped the door in their faces. ¡°Well¡­¡± Rajac said wryly, ¡°That Dalom is an odd one.¡± Komth chuckled lightly. ¡°You have no idea. When I dueled him, he kept making a farce of the situation. Ridiculous.¡± Rajac turned away from the door and looked down at the stocky man. ¡°Whatever do you mean? I have spoken to a few experts who have faced him before and they have stated he is honorable enough. He stays away from vital areas and will pay for accidental injuries he causes.¡± Komth waved his hand and a tiresome expression crossed his face. ¡°I heard the same stories. But when I fought him, he did not fight seriously at all. He toyed with me the entire time. That spiel he told you at the end was utterly ludicrous. I couldn¡¯t even touch him.¡± ¡°Then why did he refuse to duel me? Surely, he was refreshed?¡± Komth shrugged indifferently. ¡°Perhaps he didn¡¯t feel like it or perhaps I underestimated myself though that is doubtful.¡± Both Rajac and Komth stood quietly for a long minute as the wind whistled between them. Finally, Komth stated, in a soft undertone, ¡°Even the level 200 experts never spoke of this. Dalom must be nearing level 300.¡± Rajac¡¯s eyes went wide at that news. There were less than three-thousand known experts in the Mortal Realm who had crossed the level 300 threshold. Most, if not all, held positions of power on the five continents of the world; the four Dukes of the Western Territories had all reached that pinnacle. For an expert at that level to live in relative solitude, it was unthinkable. Even Rajac, with his infinite quirks, held a position of power. There were some experts over level 200 who lived like Dalom but they were experts who either stopped training or retired as they lived out their remaining years in peace. ¡°How¡­how is this not known?¡± Rajac asked as he stuttered over his words. ¡°Surely every king would be at his doorstep begging him to join their Councils.¡± Komth looked up into the sky as he shielded a hand over his eyes. ¡°Pride, my friend. No expert likes to be toyed with. We spend our lives training day in and day out. No one would speak of such a humiliation; I likely will never do so again. I only told you as you will face the same humiliation in a week¡¯s time.¡± Rajac felt his heart sink into his gut at those words as Komth quickly followed his statement up with a wide grin. ¡°Come now. It isn¡¯t that bad. I already thought of several ways I could improve based upon that fight alone.¡± Komth paused for a second and looked back at Rajac. ¡°Tell you what, come with me to this little pub I fancy over by the market. They have the best beer money could buy outside Mushan. Its rare that I run into a fellow expert on the road. Come, let us share stories and relax for the night.¡± As Komth led Rajac away from the manor, Rajac could not help but think of the irony in Komth¡¯s statement.
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2.1.4: The Harbinger of Later Days Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 4 AUTHOR''S NOTE This is the end of the first-half of arc 1. I am pretty busy over the next few weeks and am writing for the contest so I''ll make the tentative date for my next series of chapters May 31st. But, anything could happen between now and then and I could push it up (hint: That is extremely likely). Check the FAQ page if you want updates. As always, please rate me here http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666. Quick update: Thanks for all your voting! I''m finally in the top 50!
October 10, 32 R.E ¡°Still no word?¡± Duke Cajin of Poshani asked in a slight drawl as he rested his forearms on the table in front of him, massive as they were, and exposed by the rolled-up sleeves on his unbuttoned tunic that matched his peppered hair remarkably well. He and his nine advisors sat around an intimate round table outside, directly below the noonday sun. A few birds chirped here and a basset hound from one of the palace¡¯s kennels barked loudly and obnoxiously to Cajin¡¯s ears. ¡°No, my lord.¡± Bastul said, his eyes lowered. Cajin sighed loudly. He wished it had gone differently. He had been so close. Duke Cajin thought himself a good man. He harbored no criminals like the oaf in Canthos or discriminated against the poor like that arrogant fool in Lethari. His wife, Mahira, would agree with that sentiment. Both were of the Kunal, a variant Elven Race, that had long since had its glory days. But so had many of the races that resided in the Western Territories. It was a barbarous land filled with lost, desperate races who would attempt anything for a sliver of the power they once held. Cajin was not one of them. His race had long since lost its chance for a return to glory; his people either interbred with other elven races creating new variant races or died off from old age. Now, it was just Cajin, his wife, and their two sons, Emanuel and Kais. Poshani, Cajin thought, was enough for his family. Wealth, prestige, luxuries. These were all at his fingertips. He desired little else. Poshani was the largest and most stable province in the Western Territories. Even the other Dukes, jealous of his riches, hesitated before invading his territory. His army of 15,000 with a core of 200 experts gave pause where Cajin himself did not. Cajin was an expert who had crossed the level 300 threshold just under 200 years ago. His soul was only weaker than Duke Gomperi who was ancient even by expert standards. But, they still came. After all, territory was power and war was the way to achieve it in the Western Territories. Cajin rarely returned the favor. There was nothing these petty wars could offer him other than the deaths of his people and the instability of his realm. ¡°My lord, is it time to marshal the troops?¡± Commander Gifalt asked. There was no eagerness in his eyes as he met Cajin¡¯s. Cajin had ingrained in his men a reluctance for conflict that spread to the highest ranks; however, that was not to say they would be cowardly when conflict arose; Cajin and by extension, his men, were just more prescient of life than the average man in the Western Territories. ¡°War is always on the horizon. I really thought it would be different this time.¡± Cajin mused, a hint of sadness in his voice. When the Duchy of Kankur claimed the southern tip of his duchy, it was a surprise to him, and he expected, to the other dukes as well. No one had known there were a few thousand people that lived on top of Creva Mountain. When he first heard the news, Cajin was pleasantly surprised. Any change was preferable to the current situation where war triumphed over diplomacy continuously. He even ignored the slight Kankur gave him when they did not send an ambassador to inform him of their formation. It was only proper after all. He had to learn second-hand that a duchy had formed from within his territory. Bastul coughed softly under his breath. It was the farthest he would go in reprimanding his duke. Cajin sighed. ¡°Bastul, war in not such a simple notion that one can begin one for a slight grievance.¡± Bastul, still looking down, said softly, ¡°They seized a piece of our land and we did nothing, my lord. If you care nothing for the minerals lost on the mountain, then your pride surely.¡± ¡°Bastul, we¡¯ve been over this.¡± Cajin said with a hint of anger. Indeed, they had. Creva Mountain was not worth the price in men or material. The sliver Kankur took from him was a pittance in comparison to what he would lose in return if he tried to take the mountain back. ¡°That is true.¡± Bastul agreed. ¡°However, the many months I spent building trade relations with Kankur matter little anymore.¡± ¡°Kankur can still come under our wing.¡± Cajin interjected. There was a hint of heat in his voice as he spoke which made Bastul flinch slightly even as Cajin directed his steely gaze towards the hunched over man. ¡°My lord,¡± Bastul said hoarsely, ¡°Your plan was well founded. Well founded, indeed. You predicted the massive influx of immigrants into Kankur would require it to search for a way to expand its territory. And, you even forced Kankur to offer the trade contract which left them in a lesser position at the negotiating table; however, things did not turn out as we planned.¡± Bastul finished meekly. Kankur, Cajin believed, would become reliant upon Poshani if Cajin could rope Kankur into a trade contract. Even if that meant he had to give up one-hundred square miles of his territory. He grit his teeth at the thought. But, it was worth it. Due to the favorable terms of the trade contract, Poshani would, in effect, be in control of two stable centers of trade power within the Western Territories. Slowly, but surely, Poshani would come to dominate the economy of the Western Territories; Cajin¡¯s goal of peace in the Western Territories would come to pass. ¡°An alliance would never have worked. These Ventros¡­¡± Cajin slurred over the unfamiliar word, ¡°are arrogant to think we would stoop to protect them for a mere trade contract. Even though its importance is far beyond their knowledge¡­¡± Cajin ended in a murmur as he looked down. ¡°My lord,¡± Gifalt interject, ¡°It is possible for our army to defend both duchies. Barely. But, it is possible. Heavy recruiting would be needed and outposts constructed. But, it could be done.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.Cajin waved Gifalt¡¯s comment away before he even finished. ¡°No. While Kankur may wish an alliance, I have already discussed this Bastul and we both agree it is unwise.¡± Cajin gestured at Bastul benevolently. At the gesture, Bastul raised his head slightly and said with a small frown upon his face, ¡°If our lord wishes to unify the Western Territories peacefully, then an alliance is a poor option. The other dukes would see it as a threat and all three would attack at once. We would be hard pressed to impede their progress even with the strength of our army. Even an informal alliance where we protect Kankur¡¯s borders would not be a good approach. As the Commander said, we have the ability to double the size of our army; however, this would put great strain on our treasury. In fact,¡± Bastul said with a gleam in his eyes, ¡°Its more feasible and would require less manpower to invade Kankur and seize their city.¡± Cajin pressed his lips together. His advisors had wanted him to take this course ages ago but he had refused. It wasn¡¯t that he was war-shy. Diplomacy, Cajin believed, must be the precursor to conflict. In the Western Territories, however, diplomacy was only a farce, whereas, war was the true tool of negotiators. A few months ago, Cajin would have immediately rejected Bastul¡¯s proposal; however, in those months, Kankur¡¯s economy had flourished while its military, by all reports, had not. It would be nice to control both Poshani and Kankur¡¯s trading centers. In that way, I could slowly dominate the economy of the Western Territories without having to deal with the limitations of partial control, Cajin mused to himself. After a few moments he looked up and said, ¡°Gifalt, prepare a plan to double the size of the army. If I do decide to invade Kankur, then I will need to be prepared to hold both territories. The rest of you, work with Bastul to form an economically sound plan for invading the duchy. We will wait a week. If Kankur has not responded positively to our offer, then, and only then, will I consider going to war.¡± ~ ¡°And that bastard just took it straight up his ass.¡± Komth barked a laugh, his face a ruddy texture speckled with droplets of beer. Rajac leaned over the bar, his face deeply hidden within his hood, and smiled to himself as he cupped his tankard of ale. The muted laughter from around him soothed his mind in ways that even surprised him. He was further surprised that he had come to like Komth in the few hours they had spent together. Rajac had assumed he would despise any Client due to the inherent qualities that attracted a person to seek out Renewal Eternal. But, it appeared, not all were like that. ¡°I have never seen a man who ran from a fight that hard.¡± Rajac said with a touch of levity. ¡°HA!¡± Komth nearly shouted. ¡°This man, you should have seen him,¡± Komth paused as he took a long draft of his beer. ¡°Ahh. Great bear of a man. Hairy as could be. Challenges me to a fight to the death like it was nothing. All knew me in Bunshet then; I had just dueled the level 100 expert who resided there. ¡®Parrently the bloke was a follower of the expert and was pissed that I just pummeled him. Public mind you. Duels in the empires are generally in that fashion; like they¡¯re a source of entertainment for the pompous there. The first blow¡­¡± Komth snorted into his tankard and said unable to keep the mirth out of his voice, ¡°He pisses himself out of fear. And turned away just as I struck.¡± Komth made a thrusting motion with his arm that sloshed a large portion of his beer over his hand. ¡°Damn.¡± He said as he distractedly whipped up the mess. ¡°Anyway, the man got my sword up his ass for his trouble. He lived but I doubt he¡¯ll ever live down that story.¡± Komth finished, still chuckling. Rajac was already pleasantly drunk by the time Komth finished his story. His head buzzed with the alcohol as he leaned back in his seat. It was nice, for once, to relax. ¡°My friend,¡± Rajac said gregariously, ¡°You¡¯ve had some impeccably bizarre adventures.¡± ¡°Indeed, I have Rajac. What about you? You¡¯ve only told me your name. Your place of birth and race are a mystery to me. If I did not know any better, I would expect you were a harlot in disguise.¡± Rajac sighed inwardly. It was not just that Komth could, with a twist of his words, say something obviously offensive to women and homosexuals, it was that he cared not at all. Further, throughout the night, Komth had kept up these stories of good cheer and brevity before he attempted to delve into Rajac¡¯s past. But, like each time before, Rajac said, ¡°Neither are very interesting Komth nor would they grant you the gossip that you thrive off of.¡± And each time, Komth would laugh it off and claim indifference. Even with these intrusions into his privacy, Rajac still enjoyed drinking the night away with Komth. But, morning came and when it did, they grasped hands and bid final farewells to each other. Rajac doubted he would see Komth again. It was a large world whose experts left to find the most disparate of places. But, anything could happen in Thantos; it already had to some degree. Rajac thought he would, never in-a-million-years, come to like another Client, but here stood Komth . Promises were made, a friendship forged, and as Rajac watched Komth walk slowly down the dirt path until he receded from view, a certain degree of nostalgia washed through him. But then he turned away from what might have been and began to consider what was. As he re-entered Vasat, he had already shifted his mind to Dalom and the myriad of problems a bout with him would entail.
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2.1.5: A New Path To Take Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 5 AUTHOR''S NOTE Early chapter for a reason. I know I said blocs but my summer schedule is more hectic than I thought it would be. So, here is the deal. I''ll get you chapters when I can. I''m not promising anything per week. At least, not until my schedule settles down. This may be sometime in August (hopefully). But, I will still get chapters to you so don''t worry. They just won''t be around a planned timeframe. As always, please rate here http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666
October 17, 32 R.E In the space of a heartbeat, a week passed in Vasat. Rajac felt he was ready. Not ready to win, but ready to have an honorable showing with an expert who was nearing the level 300 threshold. Frankly, Rajac believed he could have defeated a moderately talented level 200 expert at this point; however, he knew an expert of Dalom¡¯s skill and physical prowess was out of his depth. If Rajac was like most experts, he would have already left. It was probable, likely even, that Rajac would be made a fool by Dalom; however, Rajac cared little. His reputation, even his name, meant nothing to him now. What was a name when those who gave it meaning were already dead? A reminder. Nothing more. Pride, reputation, these meant little to a man who had lost more than he had gained. It was true, he had saved his Race. But for what? At first, they had been mere insurance against the inevitable. Then, they had become something to protect. And what did they do? They hated and feared him while they loved a man¡­while they loved a man who betrayed them in the most intimate of ways. His family, he still had not come to terms with them. While they wrote often, it was filled with pleasantries meant to appease rather than heartfelt words so often shared with loved ones. Nisa¡¯s death continued to hang between them like an impassable mountain. The few friends he had were hard gained but kept at arm¡¯s length. Either due to his station or the void where his friendship with Temos once resided, Rajac was close to none. His most intimate of relations was with strangers whom he shared a beer with on his journey. This life, this rebirth, it had drained him of who he had been before. He had loved, lost, and been betrayed. But, he had accepted his lot in this life. To his people, he was a savior. Though, disdain, hate, and fear were all a part of the emotions encapsulated in the Ventros¡¯ feelings towards Rajac. They would never accept him. He was only a hound to be sicced on their enemies when they appeared. Just as Kankur was a reminder of Nisa to Rajac, Rajac was a reminder of the troubled times to the Ventros. More than a few were glad at his parting according to Yaka¡¯s infrequent letters. As Rajac walked, his mind weighed down by these mellow thoughts, he absently nodded to the two guards at Dalom¡¯s gate. And, just as before, he opened the oak-door to reveal the wooden, dimly lit expanse of Dalom¡¯s manor. The fresh scent of cedar hung in the air as Rajac took solemn step towards Dalom who, by his loose-fitting robes of white silk and the intense way he sat while he faced the doorway, expected him. Dalom was not the cheery man Rajac had met a weak previously. Scowl lines formed on intense, brooding face lined with age and marked by the scars of his craft. Eyes of steel glinted, sharp, unyielding, in the flickering torchlight. Rajac¡¯s steps faltered and then slowed to a stop midway between the door and Dalom. He held a tight grip on his sword as he prepared for any eventuality. As Dalom rose, the screech of his chair against the hard-wood of the floor echoed throughout the elliptical room. Rajac shivered at the sound. Everything from the atmosphere to the man himself was different. ¡°Boy,¡± Dalom said flatly as he held the back of his chair in a vice-like grip. Rajac waited for him to continue as he stood awkwardly while Dalom scowled at him from behind his chair. Silence permeated the air like a shroud. A loud crash ripped through that shroud quicker than lighting as Dalom threw his chair to the ground where it splintered into a thousand shards. Startled, Rajac blinked once before he stepped directly into the Cadence of Jin. He was almost too late. Dalom, stood before Rajac, a snarl on his face, and his sword extended in a vicious strike. Rajac flicked his sword up as he backed away. The swords met in a shower of sparks and an explosion of force rocked Rajac back on his heels just as the concussive blow tore through the manor. Everything in its path was torn asunder. The small table in the corner where Dalom once sat splintered at the impact. The beautifully carved oaken-door, gone. A gaping hole now remained where the door once stood. And as for Rajac, he was thrown into the wall of the manor with such force that he blasted through the thickly encased wood and mortar. As he toppled out into the garden, he felt a sharp pain in his side. A gasp escaped his lips as he land roughly in a thick patch of carrots. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, clutched his side, and began to rise. Soft footfalls met his ears as he staggered to his feet and blinked, confused. ¡°From the moment I met you,¡± Dalom said in a sonorous voice, ¡°I could tell what type of man you were. What type of fighter you were.¡± Rajac spun as he looked for Dalom, his hand still clasped to his side. ¡°And what type of man is that?¡± Rajac snarled. A bit of his old anger had come back. If there was one thing he hated, it was being toyed with. ¡°You hold yourself aloof. Never getting involved in other¡¯s business unless it benefits you. When you fight, you make sure you hold the upper hand; otherwise, you look for the quickest retreat possible. I commend and abhor you for those traits.¡± Dalom¡¯s voice seemed to pound in Rajac¡¯s ears as he staggered from the pain. His vision swam in front of him and he blinked as his pain began to overwhelm him. At least three of his ribs appeared to be broken by the protuberances he felt under his hand. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Yet, his mind was still clear enough to voice a fear that had begun to nag at him. Was he wrong about Dalom? Just like this expert had hidden his true power had he hidden his nature? Was he less honorable than Rajac thought? As Rajac¡¯s blood turned cold, Dalom spoke again. ¡°Those traits have made you strong and they have made you weak. You rely only on yourself and you defend with all your might. But your attack is flimsy, haphazard, much like your mind.¡± Rajac staggered towards the grassland beyond the manor. If he could just leave quickly enough, he could live through this catastrophe. He felt a hot air at the nape of his neck as he staggered toward the high-grasses between the cobbled streets of Vasat and the manor. As he gripped his side even tighter, he turned into Martyr¡¯s Fallacy and stabbed at the spot where Dalom stood. Rajac only struck air. ¡°Komth was right. You do toy with your opponents,¡± Rajac growled. He flexed his soul until his eyes shone through with the light of it. Rajac scanned the surrounding countryside as he looked for the scheming expert. Nothing. Only broken walls, splintered remains of refinement, and freshly cut grass. Only the murmur of the morning markets made any sound and they were far in the distance. A sharp bark of laughter cracked the air like a whip directly behind Rajac. Rajac spun and breathed out a grunt of pain as his innards squirmed in protest. Dalom stood, a look of distaste on his wide, grizzled face, as he held his sword loosely at his side. Fury rose in Rajac then for the contempt Dalom clearly held for him. That alone might have been enough to send Rajac into a rage in the old days. He would have struck at Dalom wildly and lost his head for his trouble. These days, it took more. A lot more. Yet, the situation was grim either way. Rajac willed his Metal Auxiliary Magic into the familiar spikes and threw them at Dalom just as he lunged forward into Martyr¡¯s Fallacy and lanced his sword with a streak of Fire Elemental Magic so bright it would have blinded anyone who stared at it for too long. An explosion rocked the air followed by a second concussive blast that rent the ground in two. The smooth plain of grass rose three or four paces while the ground under Rajac shook with the pressure. He stumbled and fell to one knee, unable to stand any longer. As he grit his teeth and closed his eyes, a soft coating of dust speckled his face and nose followed by a soft chorus of footfalls. ¡°I only teach, my boy. It¡¯s just that no one likes to learn.¡± Rajac opened his eyes and saw a hazy image. He lightly flexed his soul and the image came into sharp focus. As a smile played on Dalom¡¯s face, his white robes drifted lazily in the wind, the dark shadows all but forgotten. Rajac snorted. A depressed sorrow laced his words as he pressed a hand to the ground to support himself. ¡°You call this learning? All I experienced was something few could overcome. Something so monstrous, something so calamitous few would understand how to. I just did my best.¡± ¡°There. That is your problem,¡± Dalom said as he walked over and gripped Rajac¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What? My understanding of my limits? I learned that lesson all too well.¡± Rajac¡¯s thoughts went towards Nisa and the mistakes he had made with Temos. If he had done things differently, would he be here now? Bruised and bleeding? Or, would he be home? Would he still have a place to call home? Sorrow welled in him then and a quiet overcame the field torn asunder. Dalom stood, his hand on Rajac¡¯s shoulder, while Rajac knelt. No words passed between them as their shallow breathing created a soft and soothing melody both listened to for a time. Finally, Dalom spoke. ¡°Komth, he is different than you. In fact, many experts are like him,¡± Dalom began in a tone that spoke of experience. ¡°They live for themselves and only themselves. It is the nature of being an expert after all. Many live long after their loved ones have perished. They have few wants or needs as those are provided by the kingdom they serve. All they have is their pride. Komth has his. You, however, do not.¡± Dalom breathed out deeply. Rajac looked up and saw the lines on Dalom¡¯s face grow more pronounced. ¡°I suppose I¡¯m like you. I lack the pride that others have. Mistakes in my youth. Too many to count.¡± Dalom sighed again. ¡°Komth¡¯s problem was his arrogance. Your¡¯s¡­your¡¯s is more complicated. Pride is tricky to fix, much less obtain.¡± Rajac lowered his head and said softly, ¡°Pride impeded me in more ways than you could know. I could not see what was right in front of me. Multiple times this has led me astray and the last time, it cost me nearly everything. I have released the shackle that was pride. Now, I walk in the sun.¡± Dalom raised an eyebrow as he looked at Rajac¡¯s hooded form. ¡°I see,¡± he said dryly as he hefted Rajac¡¯s arm over his shoulder. ¡°Come along then. Let¡¯s talk about those walks you take in the bright sunlight.¡± As Dalom half-dragged, half-led Rajac back towards the manor, Rajac felt tiredness begin to overwhelm him. As Rajac closed his eyes, his final thoughts were of his sister and of Temos and the open wound than never closed.
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2.1.6: A Brother In Arms Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 6 AUTHOR''S NOTE As some of you may have noticed, I have begun to post an edited version of my story at fleenyworks.com This wasn''t always the plan but I felt it necessary to create a site for my own works and a few others. While I like RRL a lot, it does not provide for many quality, edited works. Now, I know a lot of you like the series here. Probably, all of you. This is not to detract from any of them. I like them too; however, many of the series in the top fifty are filled with grammar, plot, style, and character mistakes/contrivances that could be fixed by editing. The main purpose of the site will be to provide quality novels of at least novella length (60k) that have been or in the process of being edited. The point for my site is to help amatuer authors become semi-proffessional authors and, perhaps, someday publish their works. Right now, the site is only at 30% of what I want it to be and so it might seem lacking in many ways. But please, go have a look around. I won''t stop posting here but I will continue to work on my site and edit my story over there. Most likely, though, after volume 2, I will only post arcs or volumes in bundles here while I write my chapters there. Also, if you have a web novel of your own you want on my site, please contact me. The site won''t be functional for a few months so this is just a preliminary conversation. Also, please rate me here. http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666 Thanks for listening!
October 18, 32 R.E The next day, Rajac sat slumped on a tree-log as he clutched a warm cup of coffee. The rhythmic beat of hammer-on-nail rose from the valley below as construction began on the ruined manor a little ways off in the distance. Rajac cast a baleful eye in its direction. He could just see the tops of its shingled-roofs in the misty morning. With a sigh, he set the cup of coffee down on the trimmed grass and rubbed eyes that ached of more than just tiredness. ¡°So¡­¡± Dalom chewed out the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. He clutched his own cup of coffee in a hand bronze as a bust. ¡°How do you feel?¡± Rajac looked up. A weariness overwhelmed his entire body due to his exertions from the previous day. ¡°How do I look?¡± Rajac asked. There was a wryness to his expression as he hunched over and looked out from eyes, stained red, and shadowed by deep, purple bags. Dalom chortled. There was still that hint of sadness he expressed the previous day. His slate-grey eyes hinted at it as he said, ¡°Not great. But, then again, that¡¯s why you are here.¡± Rajac¡¯s muddled thoughts cleared somewhat at the comment. ¡®Perhaps it was the coffee finally kicking in.¡¯ ¡°And why¡­exactly¡­am I here?¡± He narrowed his eyes as he spoke. While Dalom seemed helpful, Rajac still held doubts about his trustworthiness. He had never met an Expert who went of his or her way to help another expert. It just was not done. Why was Dalom so willing to help? Dalom sighed as though he glimpsed the thoughts that swirled behind Rajac¡¯s words. ¡°Rajac, you have seen so little of the world.¡± Dalom glanced up at Rajac¡¯s horns. ¡°While five centuries might seem a long-time to your race, it is not so long for Experts who reach a certain station in life. I am not so powerful, but, I have come into contact with those who are. And, let me tell you, the Ventros are known within their ranks. A few even reside among them. Your race¡¯s plight is known to many but that story has been repeated a thousand-thousand times. Many races, once powerful on the Mortal Plane, are destitute, some even extinct.¡± Rajac knew who he meant. The Immortals. Those who had broken through the level 500 threshold. A surge of joy, mingled with jealousy, swept through his body as he thought about the Ventros who succeeded where he still struggled. ¡°There are others then.¡± Rajac surmised. ¡°Others like me, I mean,¡± he said as he referenced his horns. ¡°Oh sure,¡± Dalom said. ¡°Though, I¡¯ve never met any. And I doubt you will either. They won¡¯t travel down from the Immortal Plane to help the remnants of your race any more than the ancestors of my clan will descend to aid me and mine.¡± ¡°Are you certain?¡± Rajac said. ¡°Do they not care about their brethren?¡± Rajac felt anger rise in him at their selfishness. He, who had struggled for years to bring his race back to prominence, could have been aided by those who call the Ventros their race. ¡°Rajac,¡± Dalom said. There was a gravity in his voice as he continued, ¡°You have met a few Experts in your life, yes?¡± Rajac nodded as he reached for his coffee once again. The steam that had wafted from the surface of the amber-colored liquid had dissipated long ago. As Rajac picked up the mug and took sip of the cooled liquid, Dalom stood and brushed his white robes free of the smattering of leaves that clung to them like flies caught in a web. As he walked over to Rajac, Dalom said, ¡°And what did you think of them?¡± Rajac shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. It was not just a simple summation of Experts. It was also a self-analysis. Who was Rajac? Who did he see himself as? For a time, as Dalom stood over him, Rajac remained silent, his head bowed toward the grass below. ¡°We are¡­selfish to a fault. Those we love, we keep close to the vest; otherwise, they are ripped from us by the demons we call enemies.¡± Rajac¡¯s voice was hesitant as he spoke and his confidence slipped with each word. Was this truly what he thought? What did that say of him? What exactly were the Ventros to him? Would he have freed his race from Gaya¡¯s control if he had not needed them? No. That was the truth of it. And now, what did he feel for a race who held many he loved and many he felt, well, nothing for? He didn¡¯t know. ¡°So you see,¡± Dalom said as he rested a hand on Rajac¡¯s shoulder. ¡°They don¡¯t see the Ventros as brethren. They have their own clans, their own families. One¡¯s responsibilities can¡¯t be stretched thin as I believe yours have.¡± Rajac looked up in surprise. How did Dalom know anything of his responsibilities? A faint smile touched Dalom¡¯s lips as he said, ¡°Rajac, you are not as unknown in these parts as you would like to think. There are few enough experts in this world that, this close to the Western Territories, it was easy to find more about you.¡± ¡°And how much did you find out?¡± Rajac said, careful to enunciate each and every word. He tensed inside as he awaited the wealth of information Dalom no doubt possessed. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Dalom laughed heartily as he sat down in the grass next to Rajac. ¡°Not as much as you might think. You were careful. I commend you for that. Even in your darkest days, you kept a head on your shoulders.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s good at least,¡± Rajac muttered; though, he relaxed at Dalom¡¯s words as he waited for him to continue. The smile slipped from Dalom¡¯s face. ¡°I did find out some though. There are more than a few that know you were betrayed by your friend who slew your sister. In fact, that was the primary reason I decided to help you.¡± So he knew. Rajac let out a sharp, almost pained, breath. ¡°And why is that? You wish to fix all the wrongs in the world? Even an Immortal or a God, even, would have trouble with that.¡± Rajac spoke through gritted teeth as his eyes bore holes into the ground. The mug in his hand splintered audibly as his body coiled like a spring. Dalom jerked back in surprise. However, it took him only a moment to collect himself. ¡°Hmm,¡± he mused as he lifted his chin in one hand. ¡°I think I was wrong. You have a little pride in you at that. Though, it is interwoven so deeply into your thoughts about your sister and your race, that the events that caused your sister¡¯s demise, have utterly shattered any confidence you once held.¡± Each word Dalom spoke, slow and steady, felt as if a blunt instrument pierced Rajac over and over again. ¡°You hide your face just as you hide yourself. Emotions lay forgotten as you ceaselessly train. Nothing impedes you, and so, you will eventually breach each threshold but you will block yourself from the pain you once felt. Your friends will become distant, soon, they will stop writing you all together. You will think it is due to your own nature, and thus, your pride will wither even further. When they die, as they must, you will go on alone, searching, but never finding what you once had.¡± Dalom spoke as if from experience and as Rajac looked into Dalom¡¯s eyes, crinkled with age, he saw wetness there. A small seed of sorrow formed in Rajac¡¯s breast then. Again, he had acted the selfish fool. So focused was he on his own problem, his own worries, his own views, he had not stopped to think of the man who was right in front of him. A man who helped any in his path. Be he a client or a spite-filled Ventros with the pride of Vagabond. Guilt overwhelmed him as he pushed himself off the log so he stood face-to-face with a somber Dalom. ¡°You experienced something similar, didn¡¯t you?¡± Rajac asked, his voice as quiet as the sway of the wind. The beat of the hammers punctuated the silence that followed as both men stood, silent. ¡°Aye,¡± Dalom finally said in a strained whisper Rajac almost did not hear. ¡°Nearly two-hundred years ago now but I¡¯ve never forgotten. Never.¡± Rajac hunched his shoulders and averted his eyes, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the moment. Dalom, though, spoke as if he had not noticed. ¡°I once was in the Azor army. This was nearly two-hundred years ago, mind you. Like all Experts, I passed the level 100 threshold through sheer effort and will and was summarily recruited to join Azor in a bloody war with Gerosh. I was young and newly-married when I joined up. We lived in Vasat then, as well. As I left, she made me promise to return.¡± Dalom shrugged with nonchalance but Rajac could tell there was pain in the way he spoke. His motions were too sharp and his voice too mellow. ¡°Clich¨¦, you might say. But, it meant something to me then and it still means something to me now. As the war waged on, I, and the other Experts, drove Gerosh¡¯s army back towards the border; however, Azankar, who was King of Gerosh at the time, called his ally Mushan into the war. You probably know what happened. Mushan and Gerosh have traditionally been allied for centuries and every war ends the same way when it involves both of them. Soon, they surrounded our army and decimated our ranks. Of the five-hundred experts in our army, only two-hundred or so survived. Azor, however, was not so lucky as us. Nearly two and five cities were burned. Vasat, I am ashamed to say, was one of them.¡± A tear rolled down Dalom¡¯s lined face. He let it continue to slowly roll down his cheek as he spoke in a cracking whisper, his emotions plain for all to see. ¡°My wife did not survive. No body was found but none needed to be. The city, burned to a crisp, was empty by the time I arrived. The inhabitants either dead from fire or starvation. I tend to believe she died in the fire. It would have been quicker that way.¡± Rajac did not know what to say. At least, he was there for his sister¡¯s death. Dalom was in a far off place as he fought a war that effectively killed his wife. Rajac had been able to spend time with Nisa before her death. In fact, he had seen her the day she died. She had been so happy then. Happy he was home, content with life, and hopeful for the future. Does Dalom ever wonder what his wife felt in the weeks, days, and minutes before her death? Finally, after minutes of silence, Rajac spoke, as his fingers, white with tension, dug into the palms of his hands. ¡°What was her name?¡± ¡°Salayi. Her name was Salayi.¡± Dalom crumpled to the ground. The pain, even after all this time, too much to bare. A groan emanated from his lips as he fought to voice the pain he felt. He curled himself into a ball and groaned, once again, as tears poured freely down his face. Rajac felt empathy for the man. The man who, for all intents and purposes, was a healer by nature was so broken by his own past. Rajac walked over to him and grasped his shoulder warmly. He knelt down next to Dalom then as Dalom continued to be wracked by his pain. For a long time, both men remained on the ground. They were a silent consolation to the other as both recognized the pain in each other¡¯s hearts. Try as they might, little could fix this ailment. Pride was merely a parameter to their happiness. In time, pride could be regained. Pain like this, however; even time could not heal this wound.
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2.1.7: Blood Sings For the Hawks Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 7 AUTHOR''S NOTE A few things. I changed Asur from a God to something else. He''s more of an opposing force now to the Overlord. It came up in editing and you will see more of his nature here. Also, I''m adding 4k to Nisa''s character development. I felt her character was underdeveloped and I believe the rating about that does have some credence in that regard but I feel more that people are up voting that b/c they don''t like the tragedy genre. But, that is a personal opinion and everyone has a right to like what they want. If you haven''t already, check out fleenyworks.com where I''m uploading the edited version (slowly) And please rate me here http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666
October 18, 32 R.E The month passed with a quiet disregard. Fall began to turn to winter as thick rains shrouded the Western Territories in a dense fog. And dense, it was. The God-Kings, those who were pronounced the mightiest of the Regas Realm, known for their prescient knowledge of all, did not see the events that began to brew in the most chaotic of places. The kings and emperors of Vashin, distracted with their petty wars, turned their eyes towards the west with a calculated disregard. They saw just another clash of the barbarian dukes. A small conflict below their interest. In time, they would regret their dismissal of the conflict that had yet to come. Poshani prepared their instruments of war as Kankur paced, uncertain. Duke Seras, new to his position, fretted aimlessly in the cavernous halls of his half-constructed palace while his advisors clashed, some too arrogant to see a logical path while others too weak to grasp it. As word came of Poshani¡¯s plans, Seras against his advisor¡¯s ministrations, agreed to Poshani¡¯s terms. After weeks of no response, Poshani sent a message that could not be misinterpreted. The Raven had returned. Blood-soaked and wretched, the beast had its wings severed at the joints. By the way its legs were pockmarked with blisters and lined with cuts and abrasions, it walked the four-hundred miles from Poshani to Kankur. The message was an old saying in the Western Territories. As the Ventros were new to the area, they did know its meaning. However, many of Duke Seras¡¯ advisors understood the message. Cries emanated from the great halls of Kankur as the message, harsh in its meaning, found the light of day. The wings of the Gods make a marvelous tool but they can fail at any time. Duke Cajin meant to clip Kankur¡¯s wings, and in so doing, make the duchy subservient to Poshani. As word of this proclamation spread, Duke Dashish of Canoths responded first. Hostitly emanated from the messenger he sent to Poshani in his stead as the stout, yet, refined man denounced Duke Cajin in the most final of terms. War. That very day, Canoths announced a formal alliance with Kankur. Many within Poshani were surprised at the development. While it was well-known Dashish let his emotions rule him from time-to-time, Canthos was embroiled in a war with Telbor. However, those within Poshani did not account for the fact that Kankur was already considered a duchy of the Western Territories while, inside Poshani, it was still considered a piece of Duke Cajin¡¯s land. Canthos saw the proclamation as a direct threat from their neighbor to the south. This fact mattered little in the end as Duke Peliandor and Telbor allied themselves with Poshani soon after Canthos declared for Kankur. Duke Gomperi of Lethari, who would not be left out, declared himself and all of Lethari for the independence of Kankur so soon after Telbor declared their allegiance that later, it could not be said with clarity, who declared first. In Kankur, the people panicked. Once again, their city would become a battleground for their very existence. This time, however, their hero, Rajac Rashak, was not even in the city. The Duke, by some accounts, did not even know where he was. In contrast to the flood of immigrants that arrived in the spring, a mass exodus of emigrants left the city that winter. The people were not wrong. Seras did not know where Rajac was; however, Base Commander Yaka did. At least, he had some general idea. Word was sent. They just needed to wait. But war waits on no man. And so, as winter dawned in the thirty-second year of R.E., the War of the Five Dukes came to pass. ~ Asur felt snow crunch under his bare feet as trudged through the blood-soaked fields of Abria in the dim light of the waning sun. Wind swept across a flat, humanoid face that emanated a faint, golden-hue. His calm face rose in a sneer at the sights before him. Men and Gods fought side-by-side for a patch of earth most, even in the Mortal Realm, would call insignificant. It had been eons since he had deigned to step foot in this Realm. Since his birth, in fact. When the Overlord of Thantos pulled light from darkness, Asura woke for the first time. He was the first. The first to see what the Overlord created. Wide, lush plains. Harsh, barren deserts. Cold, windy mountains. Dark, expansive oceans. For millennia, Asur roamed the sandy beaches and craggy hilltops of Thantos. In those earliest of days, few races existed. Mortal or immortal. The Gods, for all their longevity, only arose at the tail-end of the last age. But, their rise is another story. Those who roamed Thantos in the early days were of no interest to Asur. Asur¡¯s interest and overall regard of Thantos waned as the millennia passed. He grew bored. Life, as he knew it, was a prison the Overlord constructed. He knew not whether the Overlord ment the prison for him or he was just a side-effect of what the Overlord created. A desire was born in him. A desire to see more, to do more, to be more than he was. In these pursuits, Asur discovered the Balance. While he was the first, he would not be the last. The Balance, like Asur, was not of the Overlord¡¯s creation, thus, he had no control over it. And much like Asur, the Overlord tried with all his might to destroy it. But, Asur opposed him every step of the way. As the Overlord pushed, Asur pulled.Chaos ensued on the Mortal Realm as the strongest entities on Thantos struggled for dominance. In uncounted time, the Overlord pulled victory from the jaws of defeat. He forced Asur to retreat to his solitary Realm, wounded grievously. The Overlord would have been content to leave Asur to his confinement but Asur held the core of the Balance in his hands and so he gave chase. However, just as Asur could not leave Thantos and enter the Overlord¡¯s Realm which lay beyond, the Overlord could not enter Asur¡¯s Realm. Reluctant, the Overlord turned away from Asur¡¯s Realm, and for the first time, began to govern the affairs of Thantos. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Peace descended upon the Mortal Realm as the two entities fell back to their own Realms and the Age of Turning began followed swiftly by the Age of Consideration and the Age of Folly. Both entities never forgot their struggle and as Asur trained in the Balance to overcome the Overlord, the Overlord prepared his defenses and awaited Asur¡¯s attempt. When the Gods came into being, Asur took notice. For the first time, he found a race he was interested in. The held two principles of Balance within their souls. While a creation of the Overlord, they were not apart of him like the Human, Elvish, or Beast Races were. They were unique in their own way. And so, Asur stepped out from his Realm for the first time in eons to construct a home for those he favored. The Regas Realm. In time, the Gods created kingdoms in the Realm and headed religions in the Mortal Realm; things changed, though, when the Age of Governance arrived. When the Mortal Races learned how to achieve immortality, the Overlord, in opposition to Asur, created the Immortal Realm for them. Asur smiled, enveloped in these distant memories, as he walked. A cold light began to cover his face in a mask that hid his true feelings. The Overlord had never understood the Balance. Even its name gave its nature away. Balance. One force must oppose another. That was just the basic principle. It was so much more complicated than that and, after eons, Asur understood much about the Balance but not all. Not quite yet. If he did, he would not have needed to return to the Mortal Realm after so long. A small manor rose before him, steepled with a chimney that covered the slanted roof of the building in a ring of smoke. Here, at least, the snow was a freshly strewn as Asur walked through it. A few mortal guards tried to bar his way as he approached the entrance of the manor. Asur shrugged off their advances as he moved forward. His mood began to spark with annoyance as more mortals began to stream from the surrounding grounds as they shouted for him to stop. He pursed his lips, unaffected by the chill of the air, as he turned to the mass of mortals. Some were humans in their stocky forms, a few were reed-thin Zalots, and a couple Demi-Gods. Disdain colored Asur¡¯s emotions as he looked upon the traitors. Those whose ancestors betrayed the Covenant. He pushed with the Balance. It was only slight but the earth crumpled in on itself with a loud groan. The mortals and immortals alike cried in pain as their bodies were pulled and pushed to and from the hole. No matter what principle used, the Balance had a recoil effect. Sometimes, Asur knew not what it would be. This time, though, he had a good idea what would happen. There was only a little power involved after all. Blood splattered the manor walls as the beings were torn in two. The hole in the manor grounds continued to chew up the lawn as the foundations on which the manor stood, crumbled away until they were dust. People streamed out of the innards of the building. With terror-stricken faces, they bypassed Asur without a second glance. Asur payed more attention than they. As one man in gold silk stumbled passed, Asur yanked him back by his neck. Even the man¡¯s guards, for there were many, did not stop as they pelted away from the manor as it sunk beneath them into to the pit that continued to expand. With the man caught in his firm grip, Asur pulled himself and the man away from the Abrian province to a valley he knew was empty of people. As they arrived, a shudder rose from the surrounding hills as the Balance recoil hit. Cracks appeared in three hills to the southeast as Asur landed and the clouds, white as sheep, rumbled with thunder. With a casual flick of his wrist, Asur let the man go. He fell to the ground in a heap. His light skin shimmered with sweat as he heaved each breath in and out. Asur bent down and looked at the man. The Demi-God. The Lord. Gaya. He said nothing as Gaya caught his breath in the long-grasses of the valley. A soft wind cowtowed the heat as rain began to fall from the clear clouds above. With a groan, Gaya sat up on his knees. ¡°My lord,¡± he murmured, ¡°I did not think my actions would cause such a response. For a God-King to send a Mukal.¡± There was a subservience in his voice, however, he held his head high and a proud gleam remained in his eyes. ¡°I am not here for that triviality,¡± Asur said. He bent closer to Gaya as he spoke in. Most in the Regas Realm knew of Gaya¡¯s war in the Northern Territories by this point. Though, nothing had been done yet. ¡°Then why¡­¡± Gaya trailed off as he straightened. ¡°Did my Clan send you to destroy me? They tried before when I was young you know. He failed as you surely will.¡± Although Gaya spoke with condescension, Asur could see the beads of sweat that began to form on Gaya¡¯s brow as he spoke. ¡°I am here,¡± Asur said as he gripped Gaya¡¯s chin in one hand and jerked his head so he looked right into Asur¡¯s eyes as he spoke, ¡°Because you set in motion an event that I spent eons preventing.¡± Gaya¡¯s eyes widened in surprise at Asur¡¯s accusation. ¡°I never...never¡­¡± Gaya trailed off. He had nothing more to say. He slumped. Only Asur¡¯s grip kept him upright as sagged. ¡°The Ventros,¡± Asur said. ¡°Tell me everything this instant.¡± A light entered Gaya¡¯s eyes at the name of that wretched race. ¡°The Ventros,¡± he hissed. Some of his stature had come back as he asked with a hint of anger, ¡°Why them? They are only mortals.¡± A sneer formed on his face as he looked up at Asur. Asur gripped Gaya¡¯s chin even tighter. This was one of the many reasons he held disdain for Demi-Gods. They were too much like mortals. As emotion ruled their souls, they were blocked from their potential. They broke the Covenant and restrained themselves to the Overlord¡¯s decree. And to think, it was their choice. ¡°Tell me,¡± Asur said in a placid tone, ¡°of the Ventros. Otherwise, I will rip out your soul and the souls¡¯ of every single one of your mangy clan members.¡± Gaya sat slack-jawed for only a moment before he began to speak. And speak he did. It was many hours later that Asur left a broken body in the silent valley. True to his word, Asur did not take his soul; though, some would say, what he took was far more precious. With a small, ebony orb, still flecked with blood, clutched in his hand, Asura pulled away from the clearing in better spirits.
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Notice This is not a chapter, rather a note. As I''ve been editing volume one for the past few weeks or so, I realized there were too many parts I found lacking. Vague details, misconstrued ideas, and poor character implementation to name a few. The overall story has many poor spots that require explanation that I did not include. The main thing I want to try to fix is logic flaws in the MC. What you guys call stupid I see as flaws in the story''s logic and a lack of omniscience on the MC''s part. While I can''t do anything about what the MC sees, I want to fix the logic flaws. For instance, when the MC enters Abria, it is pretty idiotic that he goes down to greet strangers camped in the woods. Scenes like that need to be fixed. Volume 1 was 60k words when I posted it. By the time I finish editing, it will be around 100k. I''m not sure it will reach that height, however, I''ve added 5k to the first three chapters alone which you can check out on FleenyWorks.com Due to the massive amount of work this will entail, my chapter output will be much slower than normal. Also, writing a war chapter by chapter is impossible because it will lead to a choppy flow and abrupt happenstances. So, my plan is to release the last one or two chapters of arc one in the following weeks and work on editing volume 1 to completion before releasing an edited, fully updated, volume 2 sometime in september. I''m not going away or stopping the story. I''m just trying to make a better story which requires a better foundation than the one I wrote. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. One other reason I am hesitant to write volume two before editing volume 1 is that I believe many parts of volume 1 will change. Already, in the first few chapters I put on my site you can see some of the alterations I made. While they are small, the will provide a larger impact on the back end. One such instance is Ryan Knight''s point of view. Some of you have been asking about a look in the real world during the story which I never found a spot for. In the editing phase, I added his character to show that viewpoint and to add some background to how Asur came about which, I hope, will give the story a more general progression line, than the episodic one I was on. One last item. A few of you asked about a character index/wiki. I don''t have the time to create one right now with everything going on. But, if one of you wants to start one for me, which I could edit later, I will put it on my site when finished. As previously stated, I will write the last few chapters of arc one while working on volume 1. When I finish editing volume 1, I will write volume 2 and dump it enmass here and on my site. One last thing before I end the note. Aspirer, Author of Aevitas, I Am Not An NPC, agreed to join my site and post an edited version of his work when the site is up and running. Thanks for listening, Fleeny 13 ANNOUNCEMENT Hey guys, I''ve been away awhile. RL has been a burden for me for quite some time. Coupled with this, I have been attempting to edit RE. However, as some of you have undoubtedly expected, this is a cancellation notice. There are many reasons for the cancellation. Foremost, I completely strayed from the reason I wrote this series. Can you believe that I tried to write a happy, light-hearted series? o.o That was the first problem as this series almost immediate turned into a tragic, depressing series. Further, I found the genre of VR limiting in the realism it could portray. During my editing, I tried to alter this construct to fit what I wanted to say; however, it never worked. Therefore, I started the series over to give you guys a better story. I did not like the end result though. So, I come here telling you that the story was not up to my standard and, therefore, I will no longer publish it. I am presently working on a story I put aside for RE actually. I''ve been working on this book for the last three years and hopefully I can finish it in the next year or two. When I do, I will publish the beta version here as a complete novel. So, if any of you remember me by then, I''ll have something for you. Also, if I get bored, I will probably publish something that take a little, but not too much, of my time here. Keep a lookout. Below, I have put what I currently have for the re-done version. If you guys have any questions about how RE was supposed to end (in the VR version), PM me. I don''t like to give spoilers unless they are asked for. Thanks for all your support guys.
Coarse shouts echoed throughout the valley as sword clashed against sword. The blood-red rock of the cliffs loomed high in the unnaturally dark sky.The carrion were highlighted as they swooped across a sky streaked with fire. Their black wings flapped in the breeze, speckled by the blood of their prey, as they cawed delightedly. Their prey still lived as of yet. But not for long. Even now, they cut each other down with iron and magic. Hate filled their eyes as they ravaged each other to bits. All the carrion had to do was wait. However,one man in particular had no plans to die this day. Sweat beaded Agnor¡¯s brow as he tore through the Delbalien¡¯s cuirass. His sword felt heavy in his hand as he yanked it out of the vile beast¡¯s belly with a squelch. As it crumpled to the ground, it grasped for Agnor in a frantic last attempt to survive. He ignored it. He could never come to rationalize the races of the Beasts as humane. They were barbarous creatures who ate their own. Some could be reasoned with though, in Agnor¡¯s book, they were dullards of the highest order. Both sided used them as grunts in this war. Fodder to distract the enemy while the real soldiers planned maneuvers. He walked past in a silent disregard as the Delbalien howled in pain. Blood, the color of midnight, oozed out of its many wounds. Thick, almost oblong, ligaments extended from its core in a manner that bespoke an unnatural aura. That had been the way of it. Agnor sighed as he wiped the grime and muck from his once-fine cloak. Craggy rocks dotted the outskirts of a valley colored the deep-red of blood. Shadow hid its true nature though. The sun, once a bastion of the Overlord, had been masked for days by the Enemy. Darkness reigned in the valley of blood. Darkness. Cries. Pain. And heroes. Heroes on both sides. Agnor raised his sword. A mocking salute to the one who watched. Silence met him. The biting wind wafted the strong, coppery scent of blood his way to remind him of his true purpose. A hero of the Overlord. A Ganshei. A dog of the Overlord. Once, he would have given a battle-cry. A call for victory. A denouncement of the enemy. But, that was long ago. He had a purpose then. Agnor strode farther into the valley with grim determination. Lines still held on both sides as men with shields clashed in small-knit groups. His own men were farther afield near the other side of the valley. Their black banner covered by a crescent moon and crossed by an axe inlaid with a single golden star flew high and mighty above the rest of the banners. Or at least, to Agnor¡¯s mind it did. He felt pride in calling them his men. In reality, they were from Nilancor. A place Agnor had the luck to call home. A gift, the King had called it, when he sent his youngest son and a thousand men along with Agnor on this bastard of journey. Thirteen years it had been. But, during that time, Agnor had grown close with the men under his command. His thoughts remained distracted as he walked far behind his own lines towards the banner that beckoned him home. Agnor never made it that far, however. A squad of soldiers, clad in the dark blues-and-greens of the Enemy broke through the line and rushed at him. Their faces were masks of eager disregard for their own lives. Twelve in all, they held their swords extended as if they wished to impale him before he had the chance to even defend himself. Most did not make it more than three steps before they were cut down by the men they had just bypassed. Only three remained as they tore after him like rabid wolves. Agnor, surprised, leapt back and threw up a wall of air to defend against the blows that would surely come. He was almost not in time. Just as he raised the wall, the men reached the invisible barricade. WIth a thud, their swords broke against the wall and turned them away from Agnor. Agnor never gave them a chance to recover. With a swift motion, he struck out with his mighty greatsword and impaled the leather-clad man in front of him. The man crumpled, his lifeforce gone. Pale pink organs slapped wetly onto the ground below. As he kicked the man out of his way, Agnor lept onto the second man as he though an arm around the third man. Both men grunted as they fell to the earth. With a roar, he called Fire Elemental Magic from both of his fists at the same time. Fire rushed down his arms towards both of the men whose eyes became wide with fear. As the fire reached them, Agnor heard a soft hiss as their skin began to boil followed quickly by their keening screams. He kept at it until both men were charred beyond recognition. Did they really think rushing a Ganshei behind enemy lines would end well? Disdain marred his face as he walked on. Such lowly men. There was no honor in what they had done. A Ganshei was a Ganshei because he stood alone on the battlefield. Arrogance. Guilt. Some said he held too much of one and lacked the other. Others, they said he was as humble as a newborn sheep and as honorable as the Overlord himself. The Overlord, honorable? Agnor had to laugh at that. If he were truly honorable, Agnor would have been freed eons ago. Time after time, he had been called to fulfill his oath. Life after life. This was only another. Another life, another death. Agnor smiled. It was a sick, sardonic twisting of his mouth. Bitterness. Once, he lived for the glory of his men. Once, he believed it was power. Agnor reached his men with little pomposity or grandeur. He simply walked among them. They greeted him as one would an old friend. An old friend you respected above all others. Their swords remained clean, he saw, as he looked among them. So few remained. His heart sunk at the memories. Only a tenth of their number survived until this day. A preposterous number. But, it was true. The Overlord demanded much and this war was never ending. They still thought they would live through this. Hope still remained on most of their faces. They believed in him. Agnor wished he was of the same mind. Hope was a fancy none with his experiences could ever entertain. Still, Agnor would not decry his men their comforts. He leaned his head back and shouted over the tumult below, ¡°We fight for glory this day. All of you, from the meanest peasant to the richest lord know of our cause. The Enemy has broken free of his shackles and challenges our ruler, our leader, our God.¡± Agnor felt himself cringe inside at his words .They were childish. Nieve in the extreme. And yet, he spoke them. He spoke them to comfort men whom he had spent years in the saddle with. He fought battle-upon-battle with them. There was Gaishu Mak, the First Lord of Nilancor. The son to the king. Jham of the River. The one who was known the continent over as the most proficient Balakki. There were others. Many others. Most were dead now. Agnor felt his heart wrench at the thought and he had trouble keeping his composure as he looked down at the many empty spots in his army¡¯s ranks. ¡°We fight¡­¡± Agnor felt his throat constrict. He could not speak more praises of the Overlord. Agnor felt a snarl form as his face as he thought of the one who started this eons long war. If only he allowed him to leave, the sundering of Thantos would never have occurred. Agnor cleared his throat and said, subdued, ¡°Think of your loved ones this day. For, I pray, this will be the last. We can not stand another.¡± As Agnor turned to the valley below, he saw glimpses of hard faces sag with weary acceptance at his words. It had been a long time for all of them since they had seen home. Thirteen years for this latest conflict. These men lived through it day-in-and-day out. Pain rose, almost visible, from the valley below as men clashed with each other. Blood spilled on both sides as the two armies broke against each other like waves against the shore. Zalkali, spirits formed by the Overlord, stood tall above the battle. With giant serpentine appendages, they formed Ice Elemental Magic and hurled it at the valley below. Shards of ice exploded on the surface of the valley creating craters the size of whole platoons. Men threw themselves out of the way of those shards in a panic; however, a few were unlucky enough to be caught in the blasts. Their cries echoed up the hill-side and sent shivers down Agnor¡¯s spine. Even after so many deaths, he feared it so. Darkness. Loneliness. Pain. The tightly formed lines of the enemy army began to retreat as the Zalkali took the charge. As he was about to turn back, a cloaked shape jumped with an explosive force from the maelstrom below towards one of Zalkali. A thin shape extended from the figure as it soared towards the Zalkali. The Zalkali was no fool. As it retreated and accidently stepped on some of the Overlord¡¯s men, it raised its arms in defense and prepared its magics. A shockwave of lighting emanated from it as it slashed at the figure with arrow-like precision. Somehow, the figure evaded every single one of the Zalkali¡¯s arms as it darted between the blue-tinged appendages. In mere seconds, the cloaked-figure was only feet from the Zalkali¡¯s almost humanoid face. With a motion even Agnor did not see, the figure swung its sword through the lower-half of the Zalkali¡¯s face with a strength that bellied its stature. Light emanated from the wound as if it were the missing sun itself. The Zalkali let out a piteous, almost muted, moan as its face crumpled in on itself. It tottered back a single step before its legs gave way and it keeled over onto the valley below. Men, horses, and war-engines were flattened without a moment¡¯s notice. Agnor, though, payed no attention to them. His attention was fixed upon the figure hovering in mid-air. Teshipal. The Light of the People. But, these days, she was known by another name. Vorain. The Damned One. She was the first to leave the Overlord. Agnor¡¯s heart sunk into the familiar pit of despair as he saw her once again. She was another reason he hated and feared the Overlord. But that was neither here nor there. They would not fight this day nor any other day. There were others he could choose this day. The day wore on. More perished as the two forces fought with vigor. Unity was only held by purpose. Different peoples and different races joined together to fight for their beliefs. Some even fought on both sides. Brother fought brother and son fought father. Agnor, though, was alone. Alone except Teshipal. He fought on with a heavy heart as he led his men deeper into the enemy ranks. Hundreds died by his blade and magic. To no avail. His thoughts were like the scattered winds as he drove forth. One of the ten Ganshei perished. A flash of light, a small-portion of the Overlord¡¯s power, reached towards the heavens, and announced for all to see, the departure of a hero from this world. A great, groaning roar rippled through the thousands-upon-thousands of soldiers on the side of the Enemy. In the back of his mind, Agnor vaguely wondered who it was. As he fought a particularly devilish Sonaran, its tusks dripping with gore, the others flashed into his mind. Tebor. The Protector. The strongest sword the Overlord had to offer to his people. Surely he would not have fallen this day. Agnor could not think of a time Tebor fell for any purpose other than age. Runhail. The Forgotten. The least among the Ganshei. But, he was one who had the potential for greatness. In some of his lives, that had been the case. In others, no more than a whisper reached the faithful of his return. Has he fallen? Trouble brews in the east if he has. Agnor grunted in pain as the Sonaran cut deeply into his side. Red tinged the Sonarans¡¯ sword and a snarl formed around his tusks. But, there was fear in the man¡¯s eyes. Bright blue and watery, they held none of the animosity expressed upon his face. A twinge of regret coarsed through Agnor as he struck the man down. A flick of his wrist and another died. How many was that now? Ten-thousand? He¡¯d lost count over his many lives. The Overlord was the director and he, the puppet. ¡°My lord,¡± Gaishu called out in alarm as he strode up to Agnor, a sword slick with blood at his side. His once handsome face was marred with the scars of their journey. A twisting at the lips exposed chipped teeth and a purple mass on his cheekbone showed a place where, even the Balakki, could not heal. ¡°My lord,¡± Gaishu repeated. ¡°Are you injured?¡± His face held none of the arrogance that had masked it in his youth. It was replaced by a swagger born of experience. Long years in the saddle gave him a lean body and naturally straight back. ¡°Gai,¡± Agnor said in a rough grunt, ¡°I am fine. Perfectly fine.¡± Agnor coughed hoarsely around the last word and he almost dropped his sword as pain swept throughout his body. Even the Overlord had to obey the rules. His heroes were not immune from the perils of mortality. Balance. Everything had an opposite. Simple, and yet, so complex. Pain. Joy. Agnor had felt more of one than another in his many lives. But, this was the last. It had to be the last. He heard the scuff of boots behind him and he turned, hand on his side to face his men. If this were any other day, his eyes would have widened in shock at their paltry status. Less then three-score remained. A lesser army would have broken hours ago but his stayed with him. For that, he felt pride. But, there was also a seed of guilt in his breast. If he had not led them here, none would have fallen this day. They do not have the Overlord¡¯s mark to chain them to this world. Their spirits would have found whatever lay beyond be it salvation or torment. Agnor¡¯s mood was lifted, albeit in a partial manner, when Jham extricated himself from the mass of men. A bloody bandage covered the space where his right arm used to be and he walked with an obvious limp. His coarse hair covered most of his lineage. But, a hint of his beaked nose and protuberant cheekbones showed his Alathi ancestry. As Jham saw Agnor¡¯s state, his eyes brightened with a fervent light and he straightened noticeably. ¡°My lord,¡± he rasped, as he limped over. There was an almost imperceptible grimace on his face as he attempted to hide his pain. ¡°Let me heal you. I have some strength left.¡± Agnor felt a smile come to his lips. Jham was always like that. Loyal to a fault and stubborn to boot. Perhaps that is why he, above all others, learned the secrets of the the Path of Order. The hardest Path to follow and the one that provided the most gains. Agnor relented with a grunt as Jham hobbled over and pressed both hands against his side. A wave of peace washed over Agnor as Jham¡¯s began his work. If he looked down, he would have seen the muscle knit together, the blood wash away, and the wound close as if it had never been. With a gasp, Jham sank to his knees. His stump of an arm sagged in it¡¯s makeshift sleeve and he almost keeled over. But, he was caught by two of the men. One was a bannerman. The tattered remnants of Agnor¡¯s banner shafted onto a pole under his arm. As the bannerman hoisted Jham to his feet, the banner teetered in its place clamped below the bannerman¡¯s arm and fell to the ground with a thump. All stared at it. Even Agnor. The fall of a banner was a bad sign. The worst of signs. Not that there had been any luck thrown Agnor¡¯s way this day. ¡°For the love of¡­¡± Gai growled. When he wanted to, he could menace with the best of them. His wide face, scarred beyond belief, was a fright to look at when he put it to good use. ¡°Pick that bloody thing up. Right now!¡± The bannerman hastily obeyed as he left Jham in the care of the of the other man who hoisted him across his back. As the bannerman picked it up, Agnor saw the banner¡¯s state. Red clay, almost the color of blood, clung to the banner like a second skin. The white crescent of a moon was stained red. A shiver ran through Agnor as he looked at the thing. Death awaited. Not just him but all his men. Agnor could see all his men understood by their faces. Pale and ashen they were. White-knuckled grips held staves and swords as they averted their gazes from the banner in an all-too-calm manner. Below, the fighting still raged. And it would continue to rage until the two masters of this world decided otherwise. The two armies, now shells of themselves, waded through the blood of the valley to hack away at their counterparts. Balakki on both sides assisted with magic that caused chaos in the ranks. A rumble of thunder broke overhead. Agnor looked up and saw what he never expected. What no one expected. It felt as if they lay in the eye of the storm. Clouds broiled above. Their churning mass flickered between black and white as if they were unsure whether they held rain or not. In another circumstance, another time, Agnor would have fled from the sight. Those clouds sparked fear and hatred in him so profound it left him slack-jawed and weak-willed at the very sight. But, today was different. It had to be different. The Overlord had come. The fast moving clouds swirled and edified around the peaks of the valley. No body could contain this great creature. Clouds were his body. Clouds and force. Thunder rumbled again and most of Agnor¡¯s men looked up in wonderment. Clouds, as black as night, emerged from the south. Like a roiling mass they were. He had come. Like a great wave they surged forth across the landscape and towards the white mass of the Overlord. The ground shook as the clouds crashed together in momentous force. Many of Agnor¡¯s men and those below fell to their knees, unable to stand the force. Agnor payed them no mind. All his thoughts were focused upon the two forces above. Hope bloomed in his heart. Hope and dismay. The signs pointed to his death this day and they were never wrong. In the many lives he lived, not once had he found a sign of import to deceive him in any meaningful way. Not ones as clear as that. Did that mean the Enemy would win, at last? He would gain the freedom he sought. At what cost? Agnor tightened his fists as the clouds roiled above. A flash of light emanated from the valley below and streaked towards the clouds above. Agnor felt shock roll through him as the army of the Enemy advanced. Another Ganshei dead. Two dead in one day. It was inconceivable. Only eight remained now. Eight of the Ganshei. Those who were proclaimed heroes of the Overlord. To defend, to protect. They had their mission. And their chains. Spit back into the world to fight the good fight and die the good death. Ballads were written of their lives. But what lives were those? Agnor knew for a fact Roshan never once had a wife nor Tebor a people to call his own. Agnor had been lucky on both counts. Not that they matter much anymore. Both had been taken from him in one way or another. Teshipal left and his own people, Agnor touched the somewhat bullish cheekbones of his face that bristled with a coarse beard and frowned. His own people were long gone from this world. Their age had come and past. It was fitting, really, that he was known as the executioner of the Overlord when, he in fact, destroyed his own people. The Enemy¡¯s army advanced as the ground rumbled with the clash of the two powerful beings. Their banners flapped in the breeze and a war cry emanated from their ranks as they were spurred on by their master¡¯s arrival. No, not their master. Their leader. He held no bonds except those freely given. It showed in the men who followed him. Even bloodied, they held their heads high as they freely walked into the maw of the Overlord¡¯s army. Larger by far, it crumpled like tin foiling under the weight of the charge. It was a paper army. Only the chains of the Overlord held it together and by the images projected from the clouds above, those chains were splintering apart. The dark swirl of the Enemy bit and snapped at the mass that was the Overlord from every side. It was to the point where the white expanse of clouds were surrounded on all sides by the ever growing dusky-scape of the Enemy. Leather creaked as Gai walked up to him, a scowl on his face. He looked down at the battlefield below and said with a snort, ¡°Bloody maggots. Still fighin¡¯ when the real dogs have arrived. Can¡¯t they see our task¡¯s done.¡± Agnor looked down as well. There was little that could be done now. WIth two Ganshei dead and the Enemy¡¯s arrival, the Enemy¡¯s army held a high moral this day. Even if the Overlord¡¯s army wished to retreat, there was nowhere to go. Not this time. A peel of thunder broke through the pearly-white clouds above. Wind howled through the valley and send shivers down Agnor¡¯s back. Balance take me. What was that? The wind felt....wrong. Unearthly. He looked around and saw his men shifting uneasily behind him as Jham bandaged their many wounds. Lighting split the Overlord¡¯s mass above. Black, tinged with red, it was. It split his clouds like a seam and showed the blackness above. It reminded Agnor of the only time he had seen pure Balance at work. For that was what it was. Balance. The purest form of life. To be that strong in the Balance, it was a feat none but a being on the scale of the Overlord or the Enemy could achieve. Agnor pushed and a bright ball of fire appeared in his hand. The flames licked the tips of his fingers and, almost immediately, he felt a chill crawl up from his arm. With a growl, he clenched his fist and snuffed the fire out. If he had continued any longer, the heat of his body would have decreased until he was a cold husk. That was his limit. A paltry ball of fire. Fear and wonderment stalked his thoughts as he looked up at the two powerful beings. Gai stood at his side with a slack jawed expression. Shock lined his face as he gripped his sword in a white-knuckled grip. The Overlord¡¯s form, split down the middle, flowed in two separate directions underneath the black mass that was the Enemy. He fled. There was no other word for it. Light, as suddenly as it appeared, left the valley. All that remained was the shadow of the Enemy. Roars of triumph emanated from the Enemey¡¯s army as the began to pulverize the shocked and bewildered Overlord¡¯s army. It was not easy to see your God defeated. When one was on a pedestal that high, their failures were your failures. Agnor could not but help feel a profound sense of emotion as the Overlord fled the field. A mixture of joy and sorrow washed through him as he looked upon the Overlord¡¯s army being routed below. The thousands upon thousands of banners that had flown this day had fallen. Light speckled the sky as more and more Ganshei fell. This was his chance to break the chains that held him. That thought was foremost in his mind as he turned to his men whose pallor was little better than those of the men below. It saddened him that the others would not live through this; however, they were satisfied in their use as tools. They saw it as an honor. Even if the Overlord could ever recover, Agnor did not know how he could, split in two like that by the Balance, he would be far weaker than before this battle. The Enemy was victorious. That much was clear. Agnor cared not. He cared about his own freedom, the safety of his men, and...Teshipal. He looked back at the valley below. If he concentrated, he could feel her presence even this far away.He felt her rage, her brutality, and her¡­.delight in taking the lives. Agnor broke the connection. Nothing had changed. That old feeling of bitterness welled in him for an instance before he shut that emotion down as well. There were more pressing matters at hand. With Gai at his side, he walked up to the the men. ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± Agnor said in a crisp voice that brooked no argument. The men, all fifty-or-so, looked up with expression that ranged from surprise to relief. Few, if any, wanted to stay and participate in the massacre below. Agnor felt a tug on his shoulder and, as he turned, he saw Gai¡¯s hand on his shoulder. With a jerk of his head, Gai led Agnor back over to the outcropping of rock over the valley. He looked back over the ledge and saw the result of the Overlord¡¯s defeat. Although little time had passed, the cohesion of the Overlord¡¯s army had completely disintegrated. Small bands of warriors, separated by their nations and banners, fought against masses of soldiers that routed them without mercy. ¡°What is it Gai?¡± Agnor said. There was a hint of anger in his voice as he looked down at the man. He better have a good reason for interrupting me. Shadow take me, he knows how foolish it is to allow the men to see any indecision among the officers. Gai licked his lips nervously. He knew Agnor too well not to know the thoughts behind that brooding glare. ¡°My lord, where will we go?¡± Gai said in his hoarse rasp. ¡°The Enemy has been freed and claims victory on the field this day.¡± As if to punctuate his words, thunder rumbled from the dark clouds above where the Enemy resided. ¡°Anywhere but here.¡± Agnor said gruffly. ¡°The Overlord is dead, or at least gone. The Enemy reigns.¡± ¡°But the other Ganshei, they will have a plan¡­¡± ¡°Without the Overlord to guide us, we will go our separate ways. It has always been thus.¡± Agnor said as half-turned towards the valley below. More like bind us together. All have different values, different strengths. I doubt I would be able to stand to be in the same room as Tebor without the Overlord demanding it of me. Now that he has retreated, Shadow take me, I can¡¯t even feel him! The Overlord¡¯s presence had vanished. Agnor could always feel the Overlord in the corner of his mind guiding him and controlling him. Gai¡¯s voice interrupted his thoughts. ¡°But, my lord, we cannot allow the Enemy to claim victory. Not complete, anyway.¡± Gai said as he grimaced down at the rout below. ¡°Some might decide to gather an army to face down the Enemy.¡± Agnor said reluctantly. He had already made his decision. He, and those who would follow him, would leave this blasted valley and seek a final peace in a land distant from here. It had been a dream of his. One, half-remembered, but never forgotten. Though, he felt he owed it to Gai to see if there was any hope for the Overlord¡¯s army to ride once again, Agnor closed his eyes and felt for the souls of those who called themselves hero¡¯s. So few remained. Only three. He felt a sense of startlement at that. Their backs pressed together, they fought off a horde of soldiers with magic and the limited control each had over the Balance. Fire met water and air met earth. The ground was cleaved in two as they carved their enemies bloody but more continued to come. Savage faces filled with eager dreams met them as they cut down their soldiers. One who killed a Ganshei would be risen up above the rest of the Enemy¡¯s followers. Perhaps, he could even become a duke or a king. A new world order would rise. Those kingdoms protected by the Overlord would fall in a matter of months. The armies that protected them died on the field this day. The hope that had glimmered in Agnor¡¯s heart when the day began was gone. It was replaced with an acceptance of his fate. It was not the worst fate. The worst would have been more of the same. More battles, more deaths, and more rebirths. Agnor thought back to his banner caked with mud. It was not he who died, but the Ganshei themselves. The symbol of the Overlord was cast down as surely as he was. Agnor felt in within himself. The Ganshei were no more. He was the last and with the Overlord defeated he would be the last until he rose again. Perhaps, by that time, the Overlord would have new strings to draw upon and his soul could finally be allowed to rest. In this case, he had a chance for freedom. A chance to build a life away from war, away from pain. His heart, though, looked upon his brethren as they fell to the enemy. Swords cut through Tebor as he let out a blast of wind so strong it could be seen with the naked eyes. The others fell as well. Kunar was split in two by Tepishal herself. There was a grin of triumph on her face as she killed her former friend. Bahari fell to a mighty axe from a nameless soldier-Too tired to lift his own sword, he succumbed to his death without a whimper. They were all dead now. He was the only one left. ¡°They are all dead. The Overlord¡¯s army will not rise again. Not unless the Overlord himself returns.¡± Angor said gruffly as he opened his eyes. Gai stared at him uncomprehendingly. A look of fear passed across his eyes as if he had just seen his fate. And perhaps he had. His God defeated and the Ganshei dead. All that remained was Agnor. ¡°And we¡¯re going to flee? Bloody flee?¡± Gai raised his hands in disgust. ¡°You¡¯re a bloody Ganshei and we¡¯re going to leave the remnants of our army to be mauled by wolves.¡± ¡°They aren¡¯t sheep Gai.¡± Agnor said dryly. He could see that Gai was about to respond heatedly so Agnor raised up a hand in forestallment. ¡°We can not do anything for them.The Enemy sits above, watching like a king on his throne. If we so much as dare interfere, we would be dead before we reached the base of the valley.¡± Agnor began to walk back towards the men who were already hefting packs on shoulders. As he walked, he called back over his shoulder, ¡°Even then, we have too few of number to make any difference. If you want to go back, it¡¯s your choice.¡± Agnor meant it as a statement that only had one logical answer. Yet, Gai took it seriously. After a moment, he shook his head and followed after Agnor and the few soldiers that remained. That day became to be known in history as the rebirth of mankind. The Exalt, as he is known to some, and the Enemy as he is known to others, broke the chains that bound the living to their creator and their prisoner. For, he was one in the same. Mankind, naive to their limitations, did not know they were prisoners until shown by the Exalt what freedom truly was. Sometimes, it takes a leader to set others on the right course. CHAPTER 1 Again and again, the world was torn asunder. Heroes reborn with the ages died and lived again. But, as in all things, the winds of time bring change. Flowers bloom where lava once flowed. Races, which once walked the earth, lay buried in books. The forces that once raged, subsided. Though peace reigns, it is always the forerunner to war. Balance calls for two sides of a coin. It is only a matter of time until the coin flips. In a small, wooded land covered by a heavy rain and forgotten in the histories, a coin of particular significance stood on it¡¯s edge. Akain Rashak ran through the tumbleweed, headless of the mud that splattered across his only pair of cotton-britches. They were of fashion, too. It had been a special occasion this day. A day for joy and merrymaking. Rain cascaded down from the lofty tree-tops above. With a grunt, Akain tugged the hood of his cloak over the top of his balding head. Two ivory horns peeked out of the thin wisps of hair and shadowed a smooth face, gray-green eyes, and a haunted expression that seemed to overshadow any other emotion. He was a big man. Not stocky by any means. Tough like leather. Working in the fields did that to you. Akain had no complaints though. He had been happy. All that changed with the dawning of the Relicmoon yesterday. A soft mewing came from under his cloak as he ran. The sound could barely be heard over the swift pad of his feet and the crackle of twigs. Careful not to look at it, he hefted the bundle in his arm. It felt soft and warm in his hand, and yet, it was the cause of his distress. Love and hate. Emotions at the opposite end of the spectrum. But, for the bundle, he felt both. There was fear as well. For the bundle and for himself. Even his knowledge of what lay contained inside the bundle could send him to the gallows. The Village Council brooked no regard when it came to heresy. He ran on. Fear pushed him forward at a reckless pace. Rain pelted him and the muck that covered the ground began to seep through his tough, leather boots. An audible squelch punctuated each step he took. He was sure he had been seen as he passed the village fareway. Only one place existed beyond the forest and it was forbidden to all. His heart pounded faster as he ran with the bundle in the crook of his arm. Sweat cascaded down his face as he heaved heavy breath after heavy breath. It felt as if his entire life was crumbling around him. He ran with a reckless pace. Few options remained to him. So few. And to think, on this day of all days. It was not long before the trees thinned. Their leafy branches receded to show a thin cottage on top of a winding hill. Akain¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps as he clutched the bundle in his cloak ever the tighter. A small squeak emanated from the bundle as he squeezed it. Akain closed his eyes in shame but he did not slow his pell mell pace towards the cottage. May chains bind me. Akain thought, as he berated his cowardice. He was torn inside. This day, of all days, warred with his mind like a broken sieve. All that he believed, all that he knew... He could not throw that away for happenstance. Happenstance that had caused more grief than pleasure already. Emotion ran amok within him as he opened his eyes, lifted his sodden cloak, and looked at the bundle for the first time. Swaddled in white linen, a pale newborn lay sound asleep. Pale skin brushed with a mop of pale blond hair and bright blue eyes. Akain heard all newborns had those traits. It took time for the hair and eyes to change while the horns would not grow in until his second decade in this world. If he survives that long. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Akain had slowed his pace to crawl without realizing it. Rain fell in intermittent intervals as the clouds seem to divide overhead to finally give some peace to this night. In his arms, the small newborn stretched in his sleep as he curled a small fist. His son. Love bloomed in his heart as he looked upon his long cherished dream. How he had wished for this. He reached with his free hand to touch the boy. As he did so, the child turned in his sleep, a slight smile on his face. As if he was just bitten by a viper, Akain whipped his hand back. Anger and pain rocked him back on his feet as he remembered his purpose this night. He covered the child and that thing up with his cloak as he trudged on. Made of brick, the cottage was somewhat rundown with a large window placed in its side. Dim light glowed through the window. Only a slight shadow marred the bright patch outlined on the grassy hillside as a figure moved around inside the cottage. Akain approached, wary. There was a reason this cottage was isolated from the village. The person within...Akain shivered. He thought about retreating as he looked behind him at the dense thicket of forest behind him. It looked like a solid wall of black in the night. Owls hooted mournfully and a handful of crickets chirped as a gust of wind, wet with the passing rain, blew over the hill. But no. He could not retreat now. There were two choices in front of him. Light take me, I have Vorain¡¯s luck, Akain cursed to himself. Sweat percolated on his brow as his mind raced. He stood stock still in front of the window, his hands balled into fists, unable to journey forth or leave. If he left, he would undoubtedly be hanged but perhaps that was better than being associated with her. That alone might get him hanged no matter if she could cure the boy. And if she couldn¡¯t¡­ Akain felt a shiver of fear run through him at the thought. In a harsh moment of disregard, Akain ground his teeth and strode through the short grass and knocked twice on the cedar door. As he waited, he breathed in the fresh scent of the wood and looked around at the small ornamentations placed outside the entrance to the cottage. Two small, wicker baskets lay empty at the base of the steps. On the door itself, a clove of holly hung as if in welcome. Akain heard the shuffle of feet inside and nearly bolted at the sound. He ground his teeth in annoyance. Wasn¡¯t it enough that he came here in the first place? Did the cursed fool have to scare him half to death as well? Hadn¡¯t he been through enough this night. Exalt, protect him, he had. For one who knew nothing but the fields, this night held a litany of unique occurrences in his life. Occurrences he desired with all his heart to have flipped the other way. ¡°Tai,¡± Akain said in a soft murmur. A chord of sadness echoed in his voice as he spoke her name. How many hours had it been? Not too many. The Relicmoon had been waning then. A soft gurgle emanated from his son once again. He would have to deal with that later. Once this was complete, whatever way that was, he would have the time then. Yes, then he would have time. The door opened with a soft squeak and light flooded Akain¡¯s vision. He squinted in the brightness as a woman stepped in front of him, a small frown mixed with concern and consternation on her face. ¡°What do you want?¡± Her voice had a tight tenor to it unlike that found in the village where soft, almost relaxed, speech was the norm. Akain could not respond. Sweat trickled down his shoulder blades as fear clamped his mouth shut. The human woman in front of him was short in nature. Her brown, almost blonde hair, curled behind wide ears and an ovular, freckled face that fell only a little short of beauty. That frown, though. Akain knew that frown to send greater men than he scurrying for the brushes. ¡°Well, what is it?¡± There was a snap to her voice now as she looked up at him with slanted eyes full of annoyance. ¡°Who are you by-and-by to come to my home at this late hour? You¡¯re Ventros. Those horns give you away as nothing else could.¡± Her gaze lifted to where the peaks of his horns hidden were hidden behind the doorframe. Akain felt the warmth of his child as the newborn turned in the crook of his arm. His voice caught in his throat as emotion welled up in him. ¡°I am...Akain, my lady Delain,¡± he said, hesitant. He was unsure how to address her. Few spoke to her with any regularity. None that Akain knew well enough to ask the proper way to address this woman. ¡°I have a farm down the mountain some ways from the village.¡± Delain sighed as she saw the pained, somewhat manic expression on his face. He was sure by this point that more than rain covered its expanse. ¡°Well, come in then. Can¡¯t have a guest stand in the elements.¡± As he entered, ducking his head under the low frame, she turned toward the shadowed hallway and said, ¡°Come. Come. I have some tea on the broiler.¡± Delain turned into the what appeared to be a small kitchen on the far end of the corridor and he could hear the rattle of pots and pans as she rummaged around. With the child clutched in his arms, he stood awkwardly in the hallway for a long moment. It was odd here. Dim light from glass candles hid more than it showed. No paintings decorated the plaster walls nor rugs strewn across the wooden floor. It was bare as a newborn. Yet, remarkably clean all the same. Akain could not see a speck of dust in the place. He felt himself relax almost unwillingly in the muggy cottage. His mind felt calmer than it had been in hours. Tiredness began to creep into his mind as he leaned against a bare wall. It had been long since he slept. Already, before this all happened, he spent the entire night up with Tai. Sleep would come soon whether he willed it or not. Akain clutched at his child as he felt his eyelids begin to droop. I must remember. Chains break and curdle in the wind, I am tired. Akain rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. A decision needed to be made soon. He was worn out emotionally and physically. The sound of footsteps, along with the waft of spice, announced Delain¡¯s return. Two pewter mugs sat steaming on top of a wooden tray she lofted above herself with a single hand. With the other, she beckoned silently for him to follow her into an alcove even farther down the hall. Reluctantly, he did so. He shook his head as annoyance colored his face. She took her time, she did. Exalt only knew what she would do if the matter was not serious. Make me wait a year, that would be what, Akain thought with a scowl. He followed her into a small room lit by a wicker candle perched high on its pedestal. This room was as bare as all the others except a table lined by four chairs. A vase, filled with a few white roses, sat on the surface. As Delain placed the tray on the table and sat, Akain hovered over the table, unwilling to sit and talk like nothing was the matter. By the frown on her face, she did not like his decision at all. She made that clear as she said, ¡°Decisions cannot be made all in a rush. Whatever you came here for, it was not healing. I know those types. They don¡¯t want to be seen by Gohram and have word of their illness spread across the village in a matter of hours. You don¡¯t have that look nor do you live in the village so it would not matter either way. Come and sit.¡± She made the last sentence sound like an order with a harshness Akain did not know she possessed. Fear of who she was, more than anything, made him pull out a chair and sit. He was careful to keep the newborn tucked securely under his cloak as he did so. It might have been easier to just shove the child in her face and see how she would react; however, Akain feared what she might do. If one saw that thing on his arm, they might very well do what he tried to do. And, they could succeed where he failed. A thrill of fear coursed through him at the thought. He could not allow that to happen. Too much had occurred already. That path lay in another direction. A direction that would haunt his nightmares for years to come but one, he hoped, that would never enter reality. That was if he escaped the near-certain fate that awaited him back in the village. Akain sat stiff-backed and tight-lipped as Delain sipped on her tea with lips pursed against the scalding liquid. She looked over her mug and said dryly, ¡°Mind you, I didn¡¯t poison the tea.¡± Akain was not comforted by the assurance. Who this woman was¡­.who she represented, he had no wish to drink something one of them made. When he budged not an inch, the corner of Delain¡¯s lip curled in a wry smile and she set her cup down with a clank. ¡°Now then, as pleasantries seem to have been forgotten by you,¡± she said pointedly, ¡°let us begin. Why, in the Exalt¡¯s name, did you run half-blind through the country-side and what looks like half the night to see me? I thought you people had better sense.¡± Akain let the jab go by as he looked down at his cloak. Under it, all his problems lay. If she could fix what ailed his family, he cared not her attitude. With a measured hand, he lifted his child from under his cloak with a rustle of cloth. ¡°This,¡± Akain said, his voice tight with emotion, ¡°is my son.¡± The boy¡¯s wispy blonde hair fell over his eyes and he wiggled in discomfort as Akain lifted him up for Delain to see. She stood with an obvious frown. It was as if he was at fault for not showing the child before she asked. Akain felt a grimace appear on his face as he looked at the woman. The Nakein. He nearly shivered at the title. An organization almost as ancient as the Orders of old, the Nakein transcended races, borders, and cultures. Stories said they were forged in the Rebirth as a weight to the Orders belt. No one really knew if that was the case nor did they care to find out. As it was, the Nakein had a reputation that was not wholly pleasant. Their hands could be found in almost every war, treaty, and exchange dating back to the Rebirth. Some said, loudly in Recam¡¯s case every time Akain stopped by on Market Day, the Nakein were leeches on the free men and women of Thantos. The took but never gave. Everything they offered had a price. A price too great for the cost by half. People in the village said, with smirks on their faces, only an idiot would ask a Nakein for help. Though, Akain could not help but notice in the years with lean crops and slim-pickings on Market Day, less and less of the folk in the village had much to say on the subject. When the subject invariably came up, those in question hung their heads in shame or found a quick exit from the conversation. Desperation. Akain nearly swallowed his tongue at what he was prepared to offer this woman. His decision was made. As she rounded the table, he stood, offering his small child to the woman. ¡°What is wrong with him? If he needs healing¡­¡± She made it sound like a threat as she took the boy from Akain and held him in her two thin arms. Hesitation crossed Akain¡¯s face as he stood awkwardly in front of her. She would see soon enough. Exalt protect him, it would be better not to voice it. When he remained silent, Delain looked up with sharp eyes. ¡°Well?¡± Impatience colored her voice as she gripped the child closer to her breast. A lump seemed to have formed in Akain¡¯s throat. Just then, she reminded him so much of Tai. So protective, so loving, and yet, as stubborn as a mule that one. But no. He shook his head. Tai was gone and Delain was not her. Not by a long shot. ¡°His arm. I had nowhere else to turn,¡± Akain wrasped. Fear, tinged with sadness, colored his voice as he prepared himself for what was to come. This was it. Either she could help or she could not. He closed his weary eyes and waited for the inevitable. It did not take long. After only a few moments, a sharp intake of breath met his ears followed by the soft cry of a child. He opened his eyes with a snap. The scene in front of him was not what he expected. There was no revolution or pain. Delain held his son¡¯s arm in her hand, her mouth half-open in surprise, but her eyes held the truth of it. A light had bloomed behind her hazel eyes. A brightness Akain had not know was missing began to shine forth as luminescent as the Relicmoon. ¡°Do you know...well of course you do,¡± Delain said as she straightened and composed herself. ¡°Otherwise, you wouldn¡¯t be here. Well, What do you want me to do about this?¡± She said as she pointed at that thing on his son¡¯s bicep. Even this far away, Akain could see the blackened veins that formed an image. An image ancient but not forgotten. How could it be with Eddhan, the local Canja, shoving it in their faces every Market Day. Just below the collarbone, the image of the Overlord, the Jailer himself, laced itself up his son¡¯s arm. Below a rising sun, something that had been lost after the Rebirth, a coiled snake, its scales shadowed to a perfect glaze, ate its own tail. A hint of blood could be seen dripping from the snake¡¯s mouth as one slanted eye touched all who looked upon it. Akain could not help but shiver. He prayed to the Exalt that whatever this was, it could be removed from his son. This image had already taken his wife. It could not take his son too. ¡°Remove it or cover it,¡± Akain said hastily. Balance be turned, whatever she could do to fix this, he would take it and the consequences be damned. ¡°Whatever you can do to fix it, I will pay, I promise.¡± Akain moved forward in a shambling lurch as he extended his hands in a gesture he knew not head or tail of. It mattered not, though. Dealin took a step back, his child in her arms, and a frown on her smooth face. ¡°Take a seat Akain. You need to listen, and you need to listen clear.¡± Her voice held an edge to it as if she was hovering between outrage and excitement. When he ignored her command, she flicked her free hand out with a snap. It was as if the air had turned solid. As much as he resisted, he was pushed farther and farther from Delain until his back leaned against the chair he just vacated. ¡°Now sit,¡± Delain commanded. With another sharp motion, he felt as if each of his knees weighed as much as a full cask of mead. He grunted as he was forced into his chair. But, he was in no position to complain. Even as he felt the weight rise from his legs, fear kept him seated. Above all else, what set the Nakein apart from all others, except the Canja, was the use of the Elements. It was said, if the Nakein wanted to, they could rule the world with that power of theirs. The only thing stopping them was the Canjacan. Not that they would be any better at ruling the world. Probably worse with all their rules and religious talk. It was just easier if common folk, like himself, avoided both parties. But, that could no longer be the case. He had chosen. Frankly, it was his only choice. To save his son, he gave up everything that remained. Akain was sure old Tabrin Manos had seen him bolt this way like a startled Colt. By the time he returned, word would have spread from that old gossip monger and the village would no doubt demand his head. Even Delain here, if she wanted to, could do nothing about it. The Village Council ruled affairs here and they followed the Creed religiously. ¡°Now,¡± Delain said as she sat herself, thankfully at the far end of the table, ¡°Let us speak like civilized people. There is no begging in my house. If I wanted to speak to a beggar, I would go to Gailan or Salkorth.¡± Her face twisted at those two unfamiliar words. However, she gave Akain no time to mull over them as she talked right past them. ¡°First off, I must tell you, I cannot rid your son of this mark.¡± ¡°What?¡± Akain heard his chair clatter to the floor as he stood. His hands coiled into fists as anger bloomed in him like a thorny flower. It tore at his soul as he towered over Dealin, his fear forgotten. She could not...would not...help him and his son. All of this was pointless. Bitterness colored his words as he said, ¡°Why not?¡± A soft smile full of sympathy crossed her face. It helped little to assuage his mood. His life had turned on its head too often this day. It was as if he found himself floating in a river to find a sudden waterfall in the middle of it. Today was the drop. And he fell far. ¡°It is impossible to change what one of the two decreed. So long, have they been away from this world, I think most have forgotten how it was.¡± As she spoke, she cradled his child in her arms and soothingly traced the mark on his shoulder. ¡°Little can be done at this point. Perhaps, if I was there at the birth, something may have been possible. Doubtful though.¡± She mused as if this was a triviality. Akain let out a sharp bark of laughter. He was on the edge of panic. ¡°Nothing, you say! My son is going to be gutted before his first name day and you say nothing can be done.¡± He let out another barking laugh. This was too much for him to handle. He gripped the back of the wooden chair with a white-knuckled grip as he leaned over the table. ¡°Akain...where is your wife?¡± By the way her face pinched as she said it, he knew, by his reaction, she understood her error. ¡°Tai,¡± he murmured. Grief was evident in his voice as he gripped the chair even tighter. Akain felt a cracking under his fingertips as the chair splintered. He ignored the sharp pinpricks of pain as he became consumed by his grief. Too tired to care, he wept openly in the cottage. Tears trailed down his face as he gasped, ¡°She died...birthing him and now, you are saying, I¡¯ll lose him too.¡± With a rough swipe of his arm, he wiped the tears away and said, ¡°If you cannot help, I¡¯ll be leaving now. Thank you for your time.¡± As he shambled around the table, blinded by his tears, Delain said soothingly, like she was trying to calm a startled horse, ¡°Akain, sit back down. I am...sorry for your loss but you need to listen and listen good.¡± Headless of her words, he continued to shamble toward her. Fear pricked the back of his mind but he ignored it. It was dangerous to face a Nakein but what did he have to lose now? Delain just told him he had lost everything. Perhaps he could send his son far away to a place where they knew little of the Overlord. For him, it was too late. As he approached, Delain¡¯s face held a mask of calm as she rose herself. Straight-backed, she faced Akain head on. I must look a mad man to her, Akain thought in a delirious daze. Tears continued to run down his face as she walked in a haphazard fashion towards his child. Anger roiled with the pain in him to create an amalgamation of emotion that threatened to destroy his very soul. An image flashed through his mind of his child, his boy. Love bloomed in a heart so weary, so torn from this night of pain. And then, that image. That image of the Overlord. So vile, so vibrant upon his son. It was a part of him and it was something Akain could never love. Everything he knew opposed that symbol. His life was lead to achieve the very epitome of freedom. He loved the Exalt like his father and his father¡¯s father had before him. The chained one put his mark upon his son. What did that mean? Was he fated to serve the Overlord or did he already? That was the truth of it. The truth Akain had been running from and, in desperation, came to Delain to cure. But, she could not. ¡°My son,¡± Akain cried out. He could go no farther. With a sound like a wounded wolf, he collapsed in a heap to the wooden floor. He heard shuffling footsteps followed by a warm hand on his shoulder. Delain¡¯s voice soon followed. ¡°Akain, the world cries out for balance. The Canjaca hold one end of the rope but the other end is loose. Sometimes,¡± Delain sighed as she crouched down. Akain could feel her hot breath in his ear. ¡°Sometimes, the world tries to right itself no matter what we do.¡± Akain said nothing as he curled himself in a ball. Sorrow began to shroud his mind like a thick, woolen cloak. It shielded him from her words in a way he could not understand. He was neither happy nor sad for that occurrence. It just was. Akain did not know what made him say it nor why he chose that moment to speak. It was as if a hand dragged his thoughts out of his mind and pushed them through his gullet. ¡°Take him,¡± he rasped. His voice was no louder than a whisper. ¡°Take him!¡± This time, it was near a shout. With a sudden jolt, Akain rose to his feet, shrugging of Delain¡¯s hand. Her face was a mixture of shock and was that longing? It did not matter. The decision had finally been made. Not a decision he had come in with but a decision he was resigned to now. ¡°You want me to take your son?¡± Akain could hear her thoughts as plain as day. ¡°He is my price,¡± Akain said as he pointed a quivering finger at the boy in her arms. ¡°Make sure he lives and you can...you can have him.¡± His voice nearly broke at the last. There was no chance for him to live. He would not, could not leave his people. The only piece of land he owned was his farm. Without it, he and his son would be beggars in truth. In a month, maybe two months time, one or both of them would be dead out there in the harsh wilderness. Little civilization existed close to the village. The Ventros were an isolated people with isolated problems. There was no chance they would survive if together but if his son remained, protected by a Nakein¡­ Delain closed her eyes. ¡°Take your son...this is unexpected to say the least. I agree to this price with the greatest reluctance. It is not a welcome sight to see a father departed from a son but when that child¡­¡± She looked down at the the boy, more specifically the symbol carved into his veins. That light was back in her eyes. She agreed. Thank the Exalt, himself. ¡°Can I hold him one last time, before I go.¡± This was it. The price had been paid. The debt would be settled. A grim smile touched Delain¡¯s lips as she handed the boy over. He felt heavier in Akain¡¯s arms than before. During this whole conversation, the boy never woke. A smile came to Akain¡¯s lips at that. He would grow into a solid lad. Solid and strong. Not like his father. His father, a weak, instinctive man, who begged for scraps from his betters¡¯ table. No, he would not be his father. ¡°Rajac, I shall name you. I hope you find peace in your life my son. May your birth not hold a candle to your life.¡± With that, he kissed Rajac¡¯s forehead and passed him back to Delain. A sad smile touched her lips but he could see more than a kindling of that light behind her eyes. He found himself unnerved by it even more as she led him to the door. Yet, the price was already paid and her promise was what he required. With a heavy heart, Akain Rashak left the small cottage on the outskirts of the village. The next day, accompanied by the rise of the Relicmoon, Jintail Bainal found Akain Rashak with his wrists slashed on the cobbled stones of the empty market. No one knew why or how Akain found himself dead in the market square. When a few men went over to his farm to investigate, they found his wife dead from childbirth. A cry rose in the village. Many thought murder most foul had been committed. Fear of a murderer in their midst made neighbor wary of neighbor. That first Market Day after the Rashak¡¯s deaths, few people dared turn up to sell their goods. Tensions became so bad, the Village Council had to intervene. For weeks, the Village Council investigated the Rashak¡¯s death and their missing, presumed dead, newborn. As time went by and nothing was found, the villagers began to forget about the whole matter. However, the story came up from time to time during Market Day when some of the older folk spoke regretfully of how such a good family could be murdered without a culprit being found. None thought to ask old Tabrin Manos his opinion on the matter. But, in the end, it wouldn¡¯t have mattered. On the night in question, old Tabrin was deep in his cups when he saw a dark shape sprint through the thick forest. It could have been Akain Rashak. Could have been. He seemed to be heading to that meddler¡¯s cottage, directly against the Creed itself. But, by the time he woke up with a nasty hangover the next morning, he had forgotten the matter entirely. As for the boy, he passed out of memory quicker than his parents. His death, already presumed, became a reality in the villagers¡¯ eyes. None suspected he lived not five miles from them in a small cottage owned by the Nakein, Delain. CHAPTER 2 Balance blossomed the world like a flower in spring rain. It made whole what was and what will become. Above all, two sides remain. One vies for control, the other, freedom. Separated, they remain. But, time is an enemy none can overcome. The time of conflict approaches. All peoples heed this call! Rise up and declare your allegiance! For no man, woman, or child can stay out of this struggle. All will impact the world¡¯s future in some way or another. It is up to you to choose your fate. ~ From Unknown, Passage from the Song of Challenge, circa 3558 A.G. Delain grimaced to herself as the carriage grated over a particularly nasty divot in the rode. The boy in her arms gave a sharp cry as his peaceful slumber was interrupted by the motion. As she tightened the swadling around the child, he opened his light brown eyes. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind for her and the child. Her child now. Surprise and an overabundance of joy had colored that first week until word of the child¡¯s father had reached her. Delain knew the man had been troubled from the moment she laid eyes upon him. Most who came to her were in some manner. The child continued to cry as she rocked him back and forth in her arms. The trundle of the carriage sent jolt after jolt up her back as she sat on the pallet that had been set out for her and the child in the small interior of the carriage. The only light came from a small wicker candle enclosed in a glass case. No windows dotted the walls and the front of the enclosure held a slat that could be opened, but judging by their driver, Palkath¡¯s demeanor, she doubted it would be opened unless for an emergency. Though, bandits in the Western Territories would come as no surprise, Delain thought, concerned. They were the broken lands. Lands without governance. War was the norm and peace an unusual occurrence. Kankur, the Ventros¡¯ village, was one of those occurrences. Sheltered away in the Broken Chain, the tallest mountains known to man, Kankur was isolated from the rest of the Western Territories. Or, so she thought. As she pulled out a leather packet from the folds of her skirts, a cold alacrity consumed her. Akain dead in the Kankur Market. She shivered as she pulled the woolen synch from the packet to reveal a variety of dried fruits. She had expected something to occur after that frightful, life changing meeting with that man. But not that. Surely, not that. Delain had been sure his reasons for giving up his son were due to the Creed and His symbol. It was natural to fear the Overlord in this day and age. She brooked no anger towards Akain for what he did to his son. In his mind, he had lost everything that day. But, that was not the reason she accepted his offer. Balance is called a sick man¡¯s game by the greedy and a fair one by the wise. His price had been fair. In fact, she might have been greedy in accepting. As a Nakein, she was not allowed to marry or birth a child of her own. The dream she had kept since she had been named ages ago lay forgotten in a dusty corner of her mind. And, to think, she received what she desired for ages. A child of her own. Even after she followed the Principles, this would not be welcomed by the Circle. Delain knew she would be questioned when she returned, if she returned, to Jintara. She sighed as she separated the food in her hand. Still, guilt formed in her breast at the thought of Akain. She took what was not rightfully hers from a desperate man. It weighed on her mind heavily that first night. Delain even considered returning the child to Akain that very next day. But it was not to be. Akain¡¯s death had changed much. Damn the Canjaca and their bloody Creed. She tried to hide her sneer as she fed bits of the small fruit to Rajac. His crying abated as he greedily began to suck down the sweet bits of food from her fingers. That hateful peace of doctrine conjured by the Canjaca. Only fools and sycophants followed it. Kankur, isolated as it was, followed in in their naivety. How had she chosen to settle her practice in such a place? I wanted isolation. Removal from the bloody politics of the south. I was such a fool. It was not always that way. She had arrived a good five or so years before the Canjaca ever decided to send one of their Canja to that backwards village. Before, the people feared her. It was only natural. Rumor begot rumor to the point where the entire world believed the Nakein were something akin to the Mother herself. But, they still came. They received her poultices, herbs, and if they were in dire need of it, she would heal them with Elemental Magic. That all changed after that fool Eddhan arrived. The villagers greeted him with all the pomp and ceremony he demanded after he lavished them with trinkets he brought from the southern cities. In no time at all, he wormed his way into their hearts and tainted them with the Canjacan¡¯s ridiculous rhetoric. Delain began to receive hate and ridicule from her once-customers as the Nakein took on a reputation found so common in the isolated villages of Thantos. The result was the same as well. The Creed, as the Canjacan called their civil doctrine, was signed by the Village Council effectively restricting Delain from Kankur. That had been the last of it. By the time Akain approached her, she had already considered leaving the small village. Akain was just another in a long line oppressed by what the Canjacan called freedom. Desperation made them come to her even though they knew the ramifications for requesting her aid. In every case, she did what she could. A few still visited her regularly. She trusted on them to dissuade the Village Council from hanging any poor souls. It had worked up until now. Akain¡¯s death had shocked her to her core. She thought no one in the village knew of Akain¡¯s visit. There had been no talk or even rumors of Akain traveling to her cottage that night. Delain came to the realization that Eddhand watched her and her visitors without her knowledge. Her skin crawled at the memory. In the weeks afterward, she sat tensely in her cottage as an ever growing dread began to consume her joyous mood. This had happened before. Not to her but to many of her Brothers and Sisters. The Canjaca vied for domination all over the world. Slowly, but surely, they attempted to weed out the Nakein and any other organization be it the fragmented Orders or the Galancat that could challenge their authority. First, those who remained steadfast in their loyalty to the Nakein were removed. Only when the Nakein¡¯s support was removed, the local Canja would publicly execute the Nakein usually to the cheers of the region¡¯s citizens. They weren¡¯t always successful. In most cases, the failed; however, in the small, isolated villages that populated the countryside, the coin almost always flipped their way. Ignorance. It was both the clay they molded into righteous obstinacy and the tool they used to obliterate all who stood in their path. When Akain was found dead without anyone in the village the wiser, she suspected but did not know. Even then, she began to pack her things and called for a carriage from Gibr. One month for her message to arrive and another for a carriage to return. In that time, events proved her fear. Akain¡¯s murderer was never found. Delain was almost sure Eddhand made the Village Council cease the investigation before a conclusion could be reached. She never saw Eddhand¡¯s watchers but she knew they were there. Hiding. It was all she could do not to bolt down the mountainside with Rajac in tow. She waited, impatient and unnerved, for her scheduled departure. By the time the carriage arrived at her doorstep, she had been ready to leave a week-past. Bundling her meager supplies and Rajac into the the contraption, they set off without a backwards glance. She shivered inwardly as Rajac she patted his small head. Her warm caress seemed to smooth the child as he turned inward, against her stomach, and curled himself into a ball. Even with everything, she could not help but smile at the child. This journey had been long. Perhaps too long for such a small child. Their belongings were strewn across the floor of the carriage in haphazard manner that bespoke their uncomfortable living situation. Thankfully, this was the end of this forsaken journey. They had stopped at every forested way station, protected by the half-dozen mercenary guards the carriage driver hired, for weeks on end. All that would be over soon. The clammer of Gibr was evident through the walls of the carriage as the mixture of the sweet scents of the markets and the rankness of the city met her headlong in a rush. Delain was surprised when she felt a surge of comfort as they rolled into the city. Stress that had been coiled tightly behind her eyes began to relax somewhat as they entered the familiar setting. Gibr, the largest city in the Western Territories this side of the Broken Chain. The carriage came to a grating stop that felt all too sudden to Delain. Her stomach roiled at the motion; however, thankfully, Rajac did not wake, clutched to her breast as he was. She would have had words to Palkath in any case. But, as she saw his chagrined expression as he ducked low and retrieved her things from the under-carriage, she could not find the energy. This journey had been long. Too long in her opinion. As she rose and stepped out into the bright light of the Relicmoon, a few of the guards entered after her to collect the tidbits she had left behind. It was good of them to do their duty without goading. She had found all too often that the concept of honor only remained in books. These men, wherever Palkath found them, seemed to at least have dregs of it. She felt a smile touch her lips as she hefted Rajac in her arms. It was simliar to her arrival in Jintara as a girl and as Kankur as one of the named. A new place, a new life. Her past worries were just that. Almost as sudden as her smile appeared, it vanished. New worries would come and she doubted, this time, all her past worries would stay there. The Canjaca might not know about Rajac and what it meant. She surely did not. But, she did know, that symbol and its presence on the child would bring chaos and strife. ¡°My lady,¡± a gruff voice rose as if out of the ether. She nearly jumped as she turned on Palkath, his face a mixture of consternation and worry. The bustle of the street past by the carriage like water against rock. Shops lined the streets like seashells on the beach while men and women, mostly human, strolled in and out of them like ants in a hovel. I STOPPED HERE. I FOUND MYSELF BORED WITH THIS CHAPTER AND FOUND YOU GUYS WOULD LIKELY BE AS WELL. Peace out. Update Hey guys, This is an update on where I''ve been for the past few months. As I said in my parting chapter, I would have a novel for you in the next one or two years. Well, I''ve completed it. Frankly, I was surprised I was able to finish it this early. It''s taken up a lot of my time and energy. Due to that and personal needs, like money for gas, I won''t be able to give it away for free. I do, however, have the first four chapters posted on my website here: Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.https://fleenyworks.wordpress.com/books/a-demons-folly/ I would have posted them on RRL but they are in a stylized structure that''s hard to copy and paste in RRL''s format. You''re under no compunction to buy it but I wanted to share my story with the people who made me want to pursue writing a novel in the first place. Thanks for your time, Fleeny