《Dusted! A Dance with Death Magic》


 A Critical Error

    These handcuffs were some of the worst he''d ever had the displeasure of wearing. The rough edges of the cold-iron dug into the flexor muscles on his wrist, the chain was too short so his arms had to be bent around at an awkward angle behind his back, and his unfriendly and anti-social jailers had yet to reply to a single quip or remark since the blindfold had come over his eyes. The blindfold was of high quality at least, no noticeable irritation to the young mans rather sensitive eyes nor sinuses. Strange, to use such manacles yet spring for a high quality blindfold. The young man decided to once again converse with the apes responsible for his current predicament.


    "Why lock me in such shit cuffs? You have to have something better." The young man called out, breaking into a coughing fit as the pain of his broken rib spread due to his attempt at humor.


    "You get wha'' you get ya git. Thems the only kind of cuffs we got fer yer kin." The large, rather ugly figure called back. Not that the man could see his captors, but based on thier stature while carrying him, overwhelming strength, broken Regal Standard, and horrific stench, it could only be assumed that he was held captive by Umbral Trolls, a race of towering brutes whose bodies appear to be made up of at least twenty-percent boils.


    Before the chained down man was able to make a comment in derision against the brute, an explosion rocked the area, he presumed was a cave, in which he was being kept, causing his ears to scream in pain and his wings to reflexively erupt from his back, destroying the back of the wooden chair he was so uncomfortably sitting on. The cascading purple of his Forewings and Hindwings were pelted with bits of rock and debris, yet they managed to protect the front of his body. In a swift motion, the man retracted his wings back into his body, causing them to disappear into a few grains of the Dust that powered all of his inherent abilities. The very reason he was kidnapped, he suspected.


    "ALPHONSE!!" The familiar voice of Alph''s most trusted partner and associate, Tyler, rang throughout the presumed cave.


    Tyler and Alph had known each other for a great many years, first crossing paths, swords, and spells whilst Alph was leading an excursion into the mountains in the north, the same very mountains that Tyler''s gang of bandits had so nicely taken up as their base of operations. Unluckily for both parties, a lich-aspirant also had laid claim to the silver deposits in that very mountain. The would-be leader of the excursion fell into a teleportation trap alongside his opponent, and they formed a strong bond after fighting and surviving their way out of that hell pit together. It also helped that the rest of the soldiers sent with Alphhad killed all of Tyler''s bandit associates and sent for a divine order to come and purge the mountain in the time it took them to escape the aspirants dungeon.


    "TYLER MY GOOD MAN! WHAT TOOK SO LONG? MY POTION OF PLANT COMUNION COULD BE DONE BREWING BY NOW!" Alph yelled in reply, signally to Tyler that he was both alive, mentally well enough to crack a joke and relatively unscathed.


    "Stop yellin ya blue mongrel, tha lil sprite ain''t gettin thr-" A sharp sound pierced the air, interrupting the brute and ostensibly killing him, given the loud thud that quickly followed the noise.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "Umbral Trolls, disgusting the lot of them." Tyler''s calm voice rang out, as his gentle footsteps echoed closer and closer to the area in which Alph was held. "Truly I have no idea how you dealt with them for the few hours you did."


    "You get used to it, besides if I hadn''t been caught whilst using the restroom, they would never have had a chance to get these damn chains on me." Dante replied, a cocksure grin spreading across his face.


    In a few quick moments, the chains fell to the floor and Alph felt the wicked energy that he had grown so accustomed to flow freely through his veins again. Reaching up and pulling down his blindfold, Alph was greeted by the wonderful site of his pixie friend scraping the gore of the mutilated trolls off his arms.


    Tyler is handsome by fairy standards on a good day, and mildly good looking in his current state. Coming to a total average height of four centimeters, with a soft skin tinted green, as if it were brushed with flakes of emerald, a head of hair full of definition and volume, and pearlescent wings, the fairy usually emitted the picture of elegance. At least, he would if he didn''t regularly dress like a mountain bandit, carry an axe that a man Alph''s size would struggle to wield, and sport a grin that would put the local asylum to shame. Truly, the picture of everything the race of relatively docile fae tried to hide.


    "You fuckin idiot, how did you get captured on a simple trade negotiation? Do you need a baby sitter everywhere you go? Where''s the brave Death Mage I swore my eternal fraternity and friendship? Have you still not trained enough to decay a simple chain set?" Dante began to zip around the mans head, pestering him incessantly about his various wrongdoings and mistakes. How was he supposed to know that Umbral Trolls were after his head? Aside from the multiple warnings he''d received of course.


    "Relax relax would you? Besides, the moment they unchained me they were all going to turn into corpses anyway. I just hadn''t gotten that far yet!" Alphonse retorted, which was partially true. If he had been able to get away from the Life-link Chains, not even a legion of Umbral Trolls could have contained him.


    "Your father is furious. This is serious Alph." Tyler said, releasing his axe into his ring and landing atop the shoulder of his dear friend. "You won''t get off from this easily."


    "Please, he''s a War God Emissary, he''s always a little cranky. I''ll probably just have to wipe a bandit camp or two and all will be well." Alphonse replied in the same cocksure way he always had.


    <hr>


    As the magic circle appeared at his feet, Alphonse realized he had made a critical error somewhere along his thought process.


    "Dad, please, what you''re asking is ridiculous!" He pleaded from the bottom of his shallow soul. His punishment was truly the last thing he wanted to face. Responsibility.


    "I have given you too many chances Alphonse. This is the last straw in your string of embarrassments. If you were not my son, you would have died for failing this negotiation. I''ve tried to be gentle, I''ve tried to guide you down the righteous path fit for a royal, but it seems more drastic measures must be taken." The Fae Lord of Eternal Winter, Antonio Icefield WitchThread said in a solemn voice, sighing deeply before continuing. "It is as I stated. You shall be banished into the Lower Realms. You are to become a man worth of his title by claiming a land of your own. Whether by marriage, conquest, trade, it matters not. But you shall not mention your position within this court until your task has been completed."


    "But there''s n-" Before Alph was able to utter another syllable, the king''s spatial magic overtook him.


    Opening his eyes, Alphonse Inigo Redding WitchThread, Third Price of The Winter Court, found himself face first on the floor of an unfamiliar forest, with an aching body and a strange feeling in his brain.


    "Shit." Alph muttered to no one in particular.

 First Landings

    The first thing Alphonse noticed was the smell. Good lords above and below the smell. It was as if a man who had one two many drinks decided to both fornicate with and defecate on a not-so-freshly withered corpse.


    The second thing the aged young prince noticed was his clothing. More specifically, the lack thereof. Standing himself up and looking himself over, a few key details seemed to be both present and absent. Long gone were the regal robes and linens he had appeared before the king in, his crown, wand, boots, even his lucky necklace had all been fleeced from him by some interdimensional thief.


    ''When father gave me a dressing down I didn''t expect him to also do it literally! He could of at least left me underwear. Now I''m gonna look like freak.'' Alphonse, ever the socialite, thought to himself begrudgingly.


    However, not all hope was lost, as a wave of relief passed over the young amateur nudist as his eyes passed over the ring on his index finger, still delicately yet firmly holding the emerald that acting as the focus for his casting. As a properly trained mage, he didn''t necessarily need a focus or a guide, but casting his specific flavor of magic would be rather, messy, otherwise.


    Flexing his wings, the voyeurs dream took to the skies, hovering himself just above the tree line.


    ''Not a village nor a building nor a tailor in sight! At least I''ll have time to fashion myself some clothes before I have the displeasure of taking over a territory. What even defines a land in the first place? Would a town suffice?'' A fair question that would have to be answered after he found proper clothing.


    Lowering himself to the ground, Alphonse called upon the ever-present power within himself. Turning towards the nearest large tree, he placed a gentle hand upon it''s bark.


    "I''m sorry, young sprout, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Your kind shall thrive in your absence." Closing his eyes, he took a small breath before continuing.


    "Touch of Death - Intricate Fabrication" As the last word left the prince''s mouth, the tree before him began to wilt and rot in an instant, twisting and cracking as if were being squeezed by a giant. Yet at the same time, the piece of the tree that was touching the death mage began to change, from a simple hard bark into a soft weave.


    As the leaves of the tree wilted and fell, the branches turning to dust and it''s roots drying, the plant-fiber continued to take shape before the Lord of Ash and Dust. In a matter of seconds, the tree had turned from a beautiful oaken titan to nothing more than a gnarled root and a pile of ash slowly sifting into the wind. That is, if you were to ignore the simple brown shirt, under garments, and pants that had been ripped from it.


    ''With my time limited by nudity and without a proper wand, even moderately high tier magic quite an inefficient process.'' The prince thought as he sighed deeply, dressing himself with the surprisingly soft material.


    Yet as he dressed himself, the strange feeling in his head was starting to become nearly unbearable. At first, it was a dull picking, like a thorn stuck in an unfavorable place, but after his relatively simple display of magic, it had flared to nearly piercing pain. Focusing on that pain and it''s strange weight in his head, something appeared in Aphonse''s vision. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    [ Magic Registered - Analyzing Appropriate Rating ]


    [ Status Registration Update Complete ]


    [ Name - Alphonse ]


    [ Class - Arch Death Wizard ]


    [ Level - Undetermined ]


    ''What the fuck?'' Alphonse exclaimed, the pain disappearing, instead replaced with naked confusion. ''How? When? What? I thought that access to the network was the birthright of the lower realms. Was I forcefully added, or was that a lie?''


    The confusion was warranted for the fae-born mage. Typically, those born of the Higher Realms, consisting of the Fae Wilderness, the Great Darkness and the Fiery Planes, are born and live their entire lives without ever accessing the system used by the Lower Realms. It was taught to those in the Higher Realms that it was a balancing act. They were born in planes of high mana, blessed with longer lives and heartier bodies. In order to be able to catch up, the Gods blessed those born of the Lower Realms with the network. A system designed and divined to allow for rapid growth, allowing the best of the Lower Realms to stand toe-to-toe with their longer lived counter-parts.


    Yet the system before Alphonse was completely different from all of the stories he had heard from those connected. Large long charts, separate tabs, various lengthy explanations and numbers, even a feature that could be used to contact others who nearby! Yet the only thing Alphonse could see and access, was the simple information before him.


    Focusing on the strange weight in his head once again, the translucent green screen disappeared, clearing his vision once again.


    ''Strange. Strange strange strange. None of this is right. I don''t have my soul-bound tome, I have some quasi-access to the network of the lowers, and I''m ostensibly trapped here! I don''t like this, I want to return to the Wilderness immediately! I need to find a city to conquer. Now.'' With his mind finally made up, Alphonse once again took to the skies, flying with the wind in a random direction.


    <hr>


    As the large, strange purple fairy took off into the skies at a speed no person ought to be able to fly, the hooded figure dropped their invisibility and approached the site of the strange magic.


    "Observation" The cloaked woman muttered, placing her hand on the now long dead stump.


    [ Oak Stump - Rotted and drained from the use of Decay Magic. ]


    As she read the notification, a shudder passed through her involuntarily. Decay magic is a school of the arcane arts reserved typically for only the most dedicated scholar, requiring an insane level of magical understanding. That orange and purple thing just used it to make a shitty pair of clothes.


    "Green One, Green One, this is Copper Three, reporting on the magical anomaly detected." The woman said, placing her hand to her ear and casting Wisper Upon the Wind.


    "Copper Three this is Green One, ready to receive." A voice replied nearly instantly, their words being carried over an unknown distance.


    "Green One, the anomaly was the appearance of an unknown humanoid. Subject is a male, roughly six feet tall, orange tinted skin, blonde hair, large purple wings similar to that of a butterfly. Strength unknown as detection was not an option, yet their ambient mana was thick, and they are capable of casting high-level decay magic. Last seen flying towards Isall." The woman reported in a mono-tone voice, studying the stump as she spoke.


    "Copper Three, report received. Return to a safehouse for a debriefing. We''ll follow-up with someone closer to Isall. Out." The voice cut abruptly. No matter how safe Wind-Magic based communication was, there''s always the chance a Sound Mage was tapping in for fun.


    "Well, that''s not very nice." A voice resonated behind the cloaked woman. Turning around, one of the worst case scenarios appeared before her.


    "I don''t appreciate being reported on very much." The anomaly said, slowly walking towards her.