《AMALUS》 Prologue He was not a remarkable man by any measures. Not in height, weight, looks, skills, knowledge, luck or anything else. The best way to describe him was average. He worked in an office at his day job to earn an average income, only to return home to an empty flat. There was no one to welcome him; Heck, there was actually no one of importance in his life. Sure, he had quite a few acquaintances; School, work, neighborhood, you name it he had them. However, none of these acquaintances were actually his friends. He had no one to confide in, not that he had any thing in particular to talk about. If you had asked any of his acquaintances about him, you would know that nobody thought much of him. No one particularly liked him and no one particularly hated him. Not even the bullies of his childhood hated him. He just somehow ended up as the victim. Perhaps it was because he never really defended himself, or maybe it was because some people are just plain evil. If you had to mention one thing about him that stuck out, compared to everything else, it would be that he had an impeccable memory. Memories of being beaten, stripped, thrown, splashed, pushed, pulled, tricked, ridiculed, embarrassed and even killed. Yes, even killed. Now, I will not pretend that he does not harbor any anger towards the individuals, who just somehow ended up meeting him in a totally random place, just outside his flat, just so they could stab him in the stomach and then leave him to die¡­ You cannot make sense of it either right? Neither can I. How dare these sons of women-who-sells-themselves-on-street-corners-to-sweaty-pig-like-financial-tycoons-only-to-be-left-with-slightly-awkward-and-nasty-offspring stab me? Now I admit that I might not have been the best person in the world, but surely, there are other people they could have stabbed besides me?! And what the hell is this?! One second ago, I was laying on the ground barely able to think, creating my own pool of blood for insects to bathe in, and now I am in this dark space! If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Fifth Saintsday of the Dragon, 1257 A.E. ¡°Deep within the plains of the northeast, where only might and brawn can decide your future, lies the lands of humanity. Bask in the glory of the humans, revere their might, revere their brawn and ridicule their deeeaaath!¡° Laughter was booming from the stands, shaking the very foundations of the arena, as if an earthquake had hit this very area and ruptured the earth within it. The audience were in euphoria. It had been one full season cycle since they last saw activity in this very arena, where human slaves were killing each other, fighting for their loved ones, while the spectators laid down their bets, feasted on the savage antics of the barbarians known as humans. It was beneath those stands, far away from the blood of the arena, that something completely different was taking place. The screams that resounded throughout the cellars where the gladiators were kept, were even more vicious than the screams from the arena. They were the screams of a woman giving birth¡­
¡°What? Whaat? What is this?!¡± As the white light approached him, the darkness was split, as if a blade of white had cut through the darkness. The sounds were increasingly getting louder, and several voices could be heard. ¡°Somebody tell me what th-¡° Why will my voice not come out? Why is it that all I can hear are the cries of a baby? Suddenly somebody grabbed him. It was an incomparable iron-grip. Not once had he experienced such a David versus Goliath situation, that strength was that of a thousand beasts. Get your hands off me! What are you do- Hey! That is not supposed to be there! Don¡¯t cu-
- Proofread by Seven
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Chapter 1: Rage Although he had recently been killed, an indescribable warmth now surrounded him. He was held tight. His eyes were open. His glare was powerful, unlike any human child before him, enough to send shivers down your back. - ¡°Look! My son will grow up to be a mighty warrior! With eyes that can pierce through your soul, one cannot doubt the potential of this boy!¡° The woman shouted out to no one in particular. - ¡°My son, I name you Lazarus! This piercing glare of yours, is a sign that you have been gifted by the gods. Lazarus, it is a most fitting name for you!" As most mothers do, the woman held her son in the highest regards. To her, he was the most beautiful baby to be born in the long history of Amalus. He was the one. The one that was going to bring the gods back to the mortal planes, the one to bring the human race to salvation, and save them from the hopelessness and inferiority that almost seemed to drown what little pride they had left. However, to any other onlooker it was just a normal baby. Average size, average weight, some screams here and there; well perhaps besides his eerily piercing glare. Almost as if the baby had already decided that, it was miles and miles above every being that had laid a foot on the land of Amalus. This was however far from the truth. The meaning behind the piercing glare was never directed at anything of this world. Nay, the glare that came from the eyes of Lazarus was directed at the ones who had killed him back in his own world. He was furious. He felt that his rage could boil over any minute, erupt and the burn the world down to the last bit of life, only to then explode and disappear into the void. As time passed, Lazarus noticed a terrible screech coming from somewhere near. He was not able to locate the source of the noise, but it was bugging him. Oh, it was bugging him. He wanted to shout and scream. Who the hell is making noise when I¡¯m trying to think here?! The source of the scream was Lazarus himself, but he did not know. When he finally noticed it was himself, he had been screaming for what seemed like decades to the nearby gladiators, who were about to fight a battle to death, only to fight a few more and then¡­ well fight some more. The only one not bothered by the noise was the woman who held Lazarus in her bosom. She gently stroked him on the body, and nudged the body as if to calm the Lazarus down. After taking in his surroundings for a while, Lazarus finally tried to organize all the new impressions he had gotten. For starters, I was killed just recently but now I am alive again. Secondly, I am no longer in my old body but rather in the body of a baby. Thirdly, this woman keeps calling me her son and even named me Lazarus. From this knowledge, we can assume that I have in fact been reborn as Lazarus, and this woman is my mother. She sure is¡­ well I would not call her a looker, but she certainly is not ugly. Now then, what is this place? Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. As Lazarus came to terms with his new form, he started to absorb every detail from the surroundings he could. What he could see however was limited. His body¡¯s mobility was laughable, and his mother¡¯s hold was terrifying to be honest. His eyes were pretty much locked onto her face, since he was not able to turn his head. Whenever she had to adjust her hold and slightly lifted him up, he had the chance to catch a glimpse of his whereabouts. This whole situation is so bizarre that I do not know even where to start. Well I guess I can start by confirming that humans exist here. Or can I? Being in this situation itself is defying logic, so in that case it wouldn¡¯t be strange if those battle-clad humans were some sort of shape shifters would it? Due to Lazarus being so unattached to his old world in addition to the fact that he was naturally suspicious of everything (owing to the fact that he was bullied in the past), he was not one to dwell on the past too much. Well besides the anger, he felt towards his killers. If he had died of natural reasons and then reborn in another world he would shout in happiness. This was a chance for him to start a new life, but this was not the case. The grudge he bore was comparable to weight of the world, or that is what it felt like to him anyways. It was as if his nerves had been poisoned and his endorphins had been corrupted. Every time he felt just a speck of happiness from being reborn, the feeling was drowned out by a darkness many times more dreadful and absorbing. He felt the blood coursing in his veins, as if fueled by anger. However, he was calm. Calm like never before. As if the rage was had been forced-condensed into a smaller matter, and cultivated deep within his heart. Lazarus made a decision right then and there. He would never stay passive like he did in his prior life. He would show every time he was dissatisfied. Moreover, he would not hesitate to get rid of pestilences that were a thorn in his side. These convictions coupled with his already near-paranoia suspiciousness fueled by his rage would soon bear its results, and leave a small footprint on the history of Amalus; however, that is a story for another time...
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Quote:The story is still immature and the chapters are short - so bear with me! My goal is having at least 2k words for every chapter, but for now they will be between 1-2k.
Chapter 2: So this is Amalus pt. 1
Seventh Sunday of the Titan, 1258 A.E.
*ding* Time had flown by in a blur while Lazarus trained his body. First crawling and then walking. It was much more exhausting than he could even imagine. Just a couple of hours of strenuous (for a toddler that is) workout had left him incredibly tired and exhausted. By his own schedule, he was very slow to get used to his new body, and to grow up physically. This only added fuel to his inner rage. While he learned to keep it in check and slightly forgive his killer, his inner rage and fury was far from gone. Well, or so he thought. In reality, all he had managed to do was to redirect his anger. It was directed at anyone looking down on him. Take for instance his same-aged peers, the other slave children. Each one of them were blessed with a strong body and thus learned to walk before crawling, even before Lazarus could crawl. All the slaves in the vicinity for that matter all looked down on him. He was not looking like the gladiator champion of the next-generation. He looked like one of the frail and sickly, who would be sold to beastmen as food. One day all of the ones looking down on me will bow down to me. Be it knowingly or unknowingly! *ding* This marked the start of his ambition. He wanted to be on top of the world, so that no one could look down on him. Oh, he hated them; He hated all those geniuses with talents like no other. His rage, his fury and let us not forget his jealousy. These three elements were at the core of his feelings. Which leads us to this date. The seventh Sunday of the Titan, 1258 A.E. Not that Lazarus would have any idea. By his schedule, he should be about 1 year old. I have been counting the days, and I should be about 1 year old by now. However, I have by no means experienced anything a kin to a celebration. Perhaps celebrations are not in order in this world¡­ Whenever he was not busy lifting his arms and walking for a few minutes he would be thinking. Thinking about how this world worked. Normally it would not possible to be on top of the world, without knowing about it. Unless you were some of the much famed geniuses who ruled the world with their sheer talent. *ding* Like this his days passed. Training, thinking, training, thinking. Of course, he did not neglect his satiety. Without the necessary nutrients, he could not even dream of growing up to be just a fraction of what his peers was physically.
Third Fireday of the Dragon, 1260 A.E.
Today marks the day of my third birthday according to the calendar that is used in this world. Henceforth I will be using this calendar to mark my age, since using the Gregorian calendar is too much of a hassle compared to the season cycle that is in this place.
The Culonbrian Calendar
The Culonbrian Calendar consists of 4 seasons spanning 70 days each, meaning a year amount to 280 days. The year count is comparable to the Gregorian calendar, A.E. meaning After Exodus and B.E meaning before Exodus, otherwise known as Exodus of The Last Gods or simply the very first day of the Culonbrian calendar. The calendar was named after Scholar Lu, the very same Scholar Lu who completed the very first "History of Amalus" book.
The DaysThe Seasons
  • Moonday
  • Earthsday
  • Watersday
  • Thundersday
  • Firesday
  • Saintsday
  • Sunday
  • Season of the Dragon
  • Season of the Titan
  • Season of the Serpent
  • Season of the Tiger
*ding* This is the information I have been taught so far about the calendar system in this world. Additionally I have learned that this is the world of Amalus. Interesting. Lazarus had in the last two Culonbrian years learned many new things. He had learned the language, he had learned a bit of the history, he had learned the days of the week, the seasons and the season cycle. However, he was not satisfied. It was limited what he could learn from his fellow slaves after all. To be reborn as a slave, what luck. Even being surrounded by humans with more blessed bodies than mine. What. Luck. Lazarus thought to himself while clicking his tongue. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. *ding* In the last couple of years he had learned that he was indeed part of a travelling slave caravan, that were mainly used for gladiator arenas to pleasure the eyes of the spectators. Among the spectators were many inhuman creatures. So this world of Amalus is inhabited by a multitude of races ranging from humans to demi-humans to ¡­ what is that? I better ask my supposedly-mother for more information about Amalus. *ding* By this time, Lazarus had already learned the language of the humans in this world. It had a clear resemblance to English with just a hint of German and some otherworldly discrepancies. I better ask carefully, as to not reveal that I have the consciousness of an adult. - ¡°Mother, why are those humans so weird?¡± Lazarus said while pointing towards the front of the caravan. - ¡°They are not humans, they are the eastern beastmen. Reptiles all of them. Insidious nasty reptiles. They prey on humans because we are vastly inferior to them physically, while both races have a low affinity for magic.¡± His mother said with a look of disgust in her face. Magic huh? Very interesting. From the tone of her speech, she must really hate reptiles and I suppose humans being prey, means that those reptilians are the main slavers. Additionally she mentioned that they were eastern beast men. I guess I can deduct that multiple types of beastmen exists in Amalus and reasonably one could say that we are currently in the eastern lands. Where ever that may be. I should inquire further about magic, that seems like an interesting subject. *ding* - ¡°Mother, what is magic?¡± Lazarus asked while looking as confused as he possibly could. - ¡°Something you will not learn as a slave.¡± His mother said, while gazing towards the horizon. - ¡°Why not, mother?¡± Lazarus asked cheekily. - ¡°I don¡¯t know much about it, but I do know that it¡¯s only for those qualified?¡± The woman answered pondering about her own answer. - ¡°What are those qualifications, mother?¡± Lazarus further inquired. - ¡°I don¡¯t know all of them, but from what I have heard, it¡¯s partly your grade of citizenship, affinity for magic and ultimately the amount of money you have.¡± She said while looking terribly unsure. That is rather fascinating. Seems like there is a clear social hierarchy, and I assume slave is the lowest. That means I have to claw my way up, compared to those with talent. Hahaha! I will definitely make my way up! *ding* While Lazarus thought this to himself, a smile could be seen behind his hand covering his mouth while his whole body was shivering as if he was standing naked before an avalanche. After clearing his thoughts, Lazarus addressed something that had been bothering as of late. He kept hearing a noisy sound in the back of his head in apparently random intervals. Much like the sounds of a small bell being rung. Lazarus focused his mind on the origins of the sound and after a short while many near transparent windows popped up in front of him. He kept looking around, but like a facial recognition program, the windows followed his line of sight. Therefore, instead of avoiding the windows began investigating these windows. First by observing, then touching, smelling and after that he collected his observations and organized it within his mind. First, these near transparent windows are untouchable, odorless and I cannot read the scribbles on them. I wonder what it means. Is it the alphabet of one of the languages in these lands? I guess I will have to learn how to read and write as well! Full of optimism, drive and a clear goal, Lazarus started exploring the now moving caravan. For he was no longer under the spectator stands watching his fellow slaves killing each other. The slave drivers had bound him in chains, thrown him in to a cage, just as they did with everyone else. Transporting the whole caravan somewhere else. Meaning the only means of exploring, would be to befriend the other slaves and see what knowledge he could gain from milking their minds dry. Might as well start with my mother, Lazarus thought to himself.
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Quote:Another short chapter, but I felt like a chapter divide here should be good.
Chapter 3: So this is Amalus pt. 2
Eighth Earthsday of the Titan, 1258 A.E.
In the scorching sun of the desert, the slave caravan had been travelling for the last two days without seeing any sign of life. The slaves were clearly showing restlessness and it was spreading. Lazarus noted that the two reptilian slave drivers seated outside of the cage, guarding the slaves in case someone had the brilliant idea to escape through these half-decayed iron bars. As Lazarus gazed towards the endless sands, an old man suddenly approached him. His pants were ragged as if worn for 40 years, and the smell was musty beyond imagination. His face was unrecognizable owing to the wild growth of his beard. While his eyes where seemingly squinted, Lazarus felt a warm gaze looking at him. - ¡±Why do you gaze so intensely, boy? Are you trying to murder the desert critters with your glare?¡± The old man scratched his beard with an expression much alike a scholar contemplating the current on-goings of the world. - ¡±What do you want old man?¡± Without even as much as facing the old man, Lazarus retorted. - ¡±Oho, no respect for seniority I see. Hahaha, you remind me of myself in my younger days, boy! Ho ho ho¡± His laugh was loud enough to catch the attention of the guards, because there was some strange allure to it. As if, his words actually carried some power at some point in his life. The other slaves caught a quick glimpse of the old man, and quickly returned to their prior activities. - ¡±Is that so." While not amused, Lazarus had been intrigued by this old man and his antics. He was nothing alike the other slaves. Where the other slaves where all brawn without even a speck of brain, this seemingly old person had something. Lazarus was however not sure what that something was, but something compelled him to continue the conversation. - ¡±Why don¡¯t you answer my question old man?¡± Lazarus wanted to get back on track and figure out why this old man actually approached him to start with. - ¡±You¡¯re quite cheeky for a toddler, are you not?¡± The old man was quite amused. One could not expect Lazarus being a measly 3 years old, to know whom he was. However, most people on the caravan knew the old man, even the slave drivers knew him. He was known as the hermit due to his behavior. Prior to this day, he had never stayed near anyone for an extended duration much less initiate a conversation. - ¡±I have seen how you observe everything, boy. I have never met one like you. One with frightening curiosity. I have also seen how you look at other people. You don¡¯t like people do you?¡± Suddenly the old man had a more stern face. His eyes were wide open, as if staring deep into the very depths of Lazarus¡¯ soul. - ¡±Wh-wh-what could you be referring to? I do no such thing" Lazarus stuttered. He was caught off-guard. He had not been aware that it was so obvious that he observed people and that his stare showed his contempt for people. While it was true that he observed everything and he did not hate people. He only hated certain people. As he silently thought about this, the adrenaline started pumping in his veins as if trying to burst out of his skin. His body was shaking all over and his eyesight lost focus. - ¡±Calm down, boy!" The old man shouted with such demeanor that even the foulest of creatures would stop for a second to see what just happened. *ding* What was that? The old man mentioned something about how I obser- Ahh. The memories he supposedly had gone through just a minute ago starting reappearing in his mind. I guess I haven¡¯t learned to control my emotions yet. The old man observed the still-picture of Lazarus. For the last few minutes, Lazarus had not moved an inch. Of course, this was unknown to Lazarus who had just experienced a short amnesia while being in a comatose like state after being stunned by the magic that the old man exhibited through his voice. As Lazarus gained control of his senses and his mind, he was ready to reengage in the prior conversation. - ¡±Perhaps I have been observing a lot, but would that not be most natural, as I have been growing up, and still am for that matter, not knowing a thing about this world?¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The words that came out of Lazarus would have shocked any of the slaves. No three-year-old slave in this caravan would be able to formulate logical arguments in a conversation. *ding* To the surprise of the onlookers, the old man casually answered as if he expected an answer along the lines of what came out of Lazarus¡¯ mouth. - ¡±While you can learn a lot by observing, there will be things you miss just as well. The things you can observe as a slave are limited, son.¡± The old man chuckled. ¡°Take a look at the sky for instance. Is it not interesting how the sky is enveloped in a green light as if the light was caressing the sky? While the light is spectacular, it is but a rupture in the skies from which mana is oozing out.¡± The old man continued speaking to Lazarus for quite a while. Lazarus was quite disinterested, but opted to gaze at the sky to humor the old man. Contrary to his initial thoughts, this went on for days. *ding* This old man is quite the font of wisdom! I will have to take note of what he says, Lazarus thought to himself, while making a mental note. Luckily, for Lazarus his only redeeming skill was his impeccable memory, which had carried over from his last life. I should also do something about these bell-like sounds. In that case, learning the written language is of the highest priority .
Eighth Saintsday of the Titan, 1258 A.E.
Lazarus had started to warm up to the old man and frequently shared conversations with him. Of course he convinced himself that this was only for the sake of learning about the world, and boy did he learn about the world. Just as predicted, the old man certainly was a font of wisdom so knowledgeable that no one would bat an eye if he were the foremost scholar about this world. However, he was not. He was but a slave living the same life as Lazarus. The guards also hit him every day resulting in bruises all over, only to suffer from the harassment from the other slaves. Even in a society of slaves, the hierarchy was apparently, and this certainly did not sit well with Lazarus. Be it in this world or that world they are all the same. Humans are despicable. Always wanting to step on others and look down on others. Fine. If you desire it that much, I shall rise to the top to step on all of you, and look down on you like no other has ever done. The veins, filled with rage coursing in his blood, was appearing on his skin while he vehemently kept his anger in control. The insides of his body were boiling and he felt as if his heart was burning with a pain so sharp that it felt like a hundred rusted spears pierced him. Locked on to the people who harassed the old man, his piercing glare was awe striking. While they kept kicking, the old man squirmed. If they had noticed the glare of Lazarus they would be cowering in fear, since even a battle-hardened veteran would feel frightened by the sheer amount of pressure coming from his glare; It was ominous, to say the least. *ding* Just as Lazarus was about to get up, to do something about it, somebody grabbed his arm to stop him. - ¡±I would not get involved if I was you. They would kill for less than what you just did, you are lucky they did not notice how you glared at them¡± What Lazarus saw when he looked towards the origin of the voice, was another slave child his age. Slightly taller, slightly heavier and slightly more bruised. - ¡±What does it matter to you?¡± Lazarus snapped back at the boy who just stopped him, while his glare shifted towards him instead. - ¡±Trust me, if you want to survive in this environment. I¡¯ve learned it the hard way.¡± The boy said, as his face grimaced signaling that a horrific memory resurfaced.
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Chapter 4: New knowledge
Two seasons later ¨C Seventh Moonsday of the Tiger, 1258 A.E.
As such, the days carried on. For some reason Lazarus had taken to the words that the boy uttered, and trusted him. There was something about how he said it, that left Lazarus speechless and temporarily stunned, if only mentally. Usually they were on the road, but for a few days of every season, they would be near a gladiator arena. Through his time with the slaves, Lazarus had learned that the main income of their slaver was betting on his fighters in the arena or selling off his best fighters. On the side, he would dabble in personal trade, trading less-than-superior slaves for other slaves with some kind of potential. It had been roughly 140 days with days of slavery. Learning to control his anger and keeping out of fights, as ridiculous that sounds for someone barely qualifying for a post-toddler age, Lazarus spent his days along his two new acquaintances as well as his mother. It was not in the least surprising to Lazarus, that his Mother was not on the intellectual side of the spectrum. However, he had learned to enjoy her company, and genuinely care for her as a family member. Something that seemed entirely impossible for him just a few seasons back. Additionally he had grown closer to both the old man as well as the young boy. There was something irregular about those two, which attracted Lazarus to them. Perhaps it was a sense of comfort, or perhaps it was because they too were rejected by the world. Nonetheless, the days they spent were by no means bad, however they were only as good as it gets being slaves after all. Luckily, for the Lazarus and the boy, whose name was Cain, the old man had much knowledge to impart unto his two youngsters. Among things the old man taught, was the language. While Lazarus had skillfully absorbed the vocabulary of the people around him, one could not expect a broad vocabulary from brainless gladiators. Therefore, by means of tutoring, he expanded his vocabulary as well as elementary knowledge of the written language. While he could not fully decipher the meanings of the transparent boxes that had popped up every now and then, more words were starting to make sense compared to the meaningless jitter that it had been earlier on. The words themselves made sense, however the full meaning of the sentences did not. As such, Lazarus refused to spend time deciphering the wall of text that had accumulated, and instead wait until his mastery of the language was adequate. In addition to language, he also learned about the history of this world. The story the old man told went a little something like this:
The Lore
This is the world of Amalus. A land of rich and bloody history, a land of glory and suffering... When the first light of the very first dawn shone on [Amalus], it was not a land filled with lush greens and seas of shimmering beauty. The lands were barren as if a devil sucked out all the nutrients one could possibly hope to imagine would exist. The planes were as flat, as the surface of papyrus. Moreover, the seas? Dried up holes resembling craters of evident destruction originating from the heavens. This was the result of a nigh eternal battle between [the Gods of Old]... The original name of this world disappeared along with the [War of the Gods of Old]. Wishing for a different fate, [The Last Gods], the survivors of the [War of Eternity], granted these lands a new name; [Amalus]. Alas, from any onlookers viewpoint, perhaps even [The Last Gods] themselves, thought Amalus to be doomed. However not all was bad. Because of the war new lands were shaped, new mountain ridges were made and new seas created. [The Last Gods] planted the seeds of a new world; Seeds that would evolve into plants; Plants that would grow big into trees; Trees that would shape forests all over the world; And with the plants came life. [The Last Gods] nurtured the world of [Amalus]. They experienced the birth of sentient races, and were part of their evolution. Religions were founded, and altars were erected. [The Last Gods] had given birth to these lands, and it seemed to everybody that the gods would be leading the sentient races on [Amalus] to greatness for all eternity. However fate would have it another way. One day all of a sudden the last surviving gods left this world and their believers behind. Not a single word spoken, no prophecy was prophesized, just nothing. Believers were in uproar, kingdoms were on their edges, and the weather did nothing but signify the calmness before a storm. Once again war had stricken the land of [Amalus.] This event came to be known as [the Exodus of The Last Gods], and would mark the first year in the Culonbrian calendar named by Scholar Lu, First Moonday of the Dragon, 1 A.E.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. From this, he learned that there were several sentient races on Amalus, besides humans, reptiles and the odd beastman. Furthermore, the fact that the gods had such an impact on the world was quite interesting. While he did not have access to any sort of written source on the subject of the gods, Lazarus felt that the information was quite close to the truth, but with no means to further research the subject, he made a mental note in the back of his head. The old man was well versed in the subject of magic in the world of Amalus. Perhaps he was not the best practitioner but he was human and he was able to practice magic. That had to count for something. While his magic was limited to vocal magic, he decided not to teach this to the youngsters, since this was the cause of many perils in his own youth. However, he did confer unto them, the theory of magic in Amalus. To simplify it there existed three classifications of magic. ¡°Real magic¡± otherwise referred to as just magic because it is the most widespread, ¡°ancient magic¡± and ¡°alternative magic¡±. Before elaborating on the different types of magic, the old man made it clear that there was two types of magic wielders. The intuitive type and the theoretical type. One would be born with a talent for magic, without knowing how it really works. The other would simply construct magic based on a set of rules. Essentially, they are doing the same thing; one would be doing it willingly while the other would be doing it unwillingly. The most accomplished magic wielder would be one with both intuition and the knowledge behind it. However, for some reason, when you are decidedly one type, the other aspect does not come as easy. When comparing the common races in Amalus, the one best suited for wielding magic would be the high elves. Through cultivating their own capability for magic through use, and living near naturally magic-infested habitats, the high elves have shown to be remarkably better at magic compared to other races. In contrast, the human race is by far the worst. Around these eastern areas of Amalus, and perhaps even the whole of the eastern continent, most if not all humans you meet will be unable to wield magic. Things are however different on the western continent, but that will be a story for another time. Going back to the subject of magic, it will be easiest to explain the last two categorizations of magic. Ancient magic is, as the name implies, ancient magic from ancient times. It is not known exactly what ancient magic is or how it works, and it is not even confirmed to be real. Next, we have alternative magic. As the term implies this category includes alternative magic. These are usually specific magics that are racially, genetically or in such away locked to other magic wielders. Rumour has it that there is an compilation on known clan magics in [The Forbidden Library] or at least that is what the old man said. Lazarus made another mental note. Now then, real magic. The essence of real magic and spell construction is the theory behind it. To construct magic you need the will to construct it, and you need the schematics so to speak. These schematics come in all shapes and all colors. Some people memorize the construction of a spell, by cueing it in a chant, others by a simple word. Common for these two types of schematics, is the use of [The Word]. Another way to use schematics would be actual schematics, such as drawn spell circles either on special paper or even in the air by the use of an artifact. These are utilize what is known as [The Sign]. Knowing only these two types of spell schematics, he regretted not being able to teach us more. He did however confirm that many spell schematics existed. The other essential part of spell construction is [The Will]. For most people this is attained through focus. However, what essentially happens is that an actual physical mass is REPLACEed into the spell schematics. The mass itself is near weightless and invisible to the untrained eye. The name of it will depend on where in the world you are, but the most common terms for it is mana. All this new knowledge had Lazarus thinking a lot about magic. This was something he had to tinker with for sure. While most humans did not have an affinity for magic, Lazarus did not care. He firmly believed that if magic were so theory based, it would be possible to expertly use magic while having close to no affinity. This had Lazarus forgetting his innermost feelings for a while. His curiosity quenched his thirst for revenge. While it was not wholly gone, it was safe to say that the raging darkness that filled his heart was more of a molten core. While his heart yearned for revenge, his curiosity functioned as his passion from within. Slowly his heart was soothed while he accepted humanity as a valid thing to be within his circle of trust. While he had not noticed, Lazarus had begun to smile albeit not often. Gazing out towards his surroundings, Lazarus had noticed shadows appearing from nowhere. Alas, all good things must come to an end¡­
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Chapter 5: Cain
Same day - Seventh Moonsday of the Tiger, 1258 A.E.
The plains were littered with rags, blood and gore. Red, beige and a dirt-like nuance were the new colors of this place, which used to be nothing but vast and empty plains no matter how far you looked in any direction. These were the aftermaths of a bandit attack. Not even an hour earlier the slavers were calmly stringing along about the caravan harassing whomever they wanted to harass, doing whatever they saw fit. The minds of the slaves were focused on captivity as usual, and the feeling of hopelessness that was overshadowing the whole caravan was so thick that you could almost grasp it. On the horizon, Lazarus had spotted several shadows on top of a nearby hill. A large, slightly narrow shadow raised into the air, above what seemed to be shadow riders. As if missing a beat, because of the missing battle cry, the riders charged towards the caravan. Being outside the cages made the slavers the first victims to fall prey to the swords of the attackers. While the slavers were equipped with armors and weapons that would not bring shame to a proper army regiment, they were cut and dismembered, as if they were scarecrows made of straw. The attackers numbering more than twenty slowly made their way towards the wagon that was located at the end of the chain. The very wagon that carried both Cain and Lazarus as well as the old man. They were an unstoppable force. Just as swiftly as they had appeared, just as quickly did they engage and kill off any living soul in the nearest proximity. None could grasp their goal. Their eyes were dead, as if the mass killings were but a minor hassle that had to be done. It was clinical, dreadful and finally yet importantly horrifying. The dismembered limbs were scattered on the ground, while dying bodies were spraying their blood everywhere, as if they had to paint the whole caravan red before dying. There is no way I am going to die again! Resurrecting just once requires the luck of several lifespans, so there is no way I am going to give this life up! While Lazarus'' stream of consciousness inclined towards this tenacity to survive, many of the other slaves had completely given up. Rattling the cages, as if they were the last obstacle standing between them and salvation, the madness took over. - ¡±Kill me already! Just kill me!¡± - ¡±SAVE ME FROM THIS HELL!!¡± - ¡±Please just end it¡­ I can¡¯t endure it anymore.¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.- ¡±¡­¡± Countless screams echoed throughout the place, and the madness had caught on to everyone, as if it was more contagious than the Black Death itself. However, Lazarus refused to resign his life to these crude attackers. It was pointless to die without accomplishing anything. His ambitions were not as small as to die, on some unknown plains near some backwater hamlet. Suddenly they were there and a single man stepped forward. The black, oily hair that was tightened into a ponytail revealed a menacing albeit lackluster face. Dull grey eyes embedded deep within the eye sockets, glared towards Cain as if looking at prey. A thin mask of black dyed linen, hiding any kind of emotion whatsoever, covered the lower half of his face. However Lazarus knew. He knew that a smile, as maleficent as the devil himself, was behind that mask. He could not explain why exactly. Perhaps it was the eerie feeling that was creeping over his skin, as if hundreds of corkroaches paved the way for their kin, or perhaps it was the dominating presence, which almost penetrated his mind with an invisible hand, only to twist his pain-receivers, resulting in his knees buckling under. It had never occured to Lazarus that it was possible to inflict pain on others by merely gazing. It did not make sense. The pain was possibly an illusionary pain, created by the fright induced by the stare. Not entirely explainable scientifically, but nonetheless more plausible than other alternaties. One thing was made clear. This man was mountains and mountains above any of the people here in terms of, well everything. Lazarus had no idea as to how he could escape this predicament. - ¡±Boy, are you Cain Hector Samuel Rothlow, the former heir apparent of the duchy of Meldrino?¡±
So I''ve been sitting with this short chapter for a while, I suddenly felt the need to post it seeing as the next chapter will be a bit delayed but quite a bit longer. It''s been awhile since I released anything, but don''t worry - I''ve been in the think tank doing some thinking on the outline of the story. Also did a side-project while trying to find inspiration for this, which resultet in my other fiction that can be found in my signature.
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