《The Once and Last Conqueror》
Chapter One - Death of the Old
The Field of the Fallen, Cannia - 12th day of the Sardonyx Moon, Year 4 AH
Every battlefield sang with a different song. Some pulsed like beating drums, endlessly driving forward with the march of feet through mud and grime. Others possessed a more frantic rhythm, their discordant notes in time to the frenzy of clashing blades and roaring war cries. Still others were quieter in nature, requiems to the past and future dead.
This song was all of them and none of them at once. It was harmony, it was cacophony. It was loud and soft. It was the hoarse screams of vengeance yelled across the battlefield and the whispered prayers of watchers waiting for their return.
It was the song of a world waiting for salvation.
The air was tinged with the scent of iron. Regis breathed in the cool wind, crisp and sizzling with magic. It was an overcast day. Only a few stray rays of light managed to penetrate the thick shroud of clouds, but the sky was continuously lit by the glow of fired spells soaring across the battlefield.
Below him, masses of bodies clashed, their weapons locked in an endless chain. The otherworlder had managed to rally together an impressive assortment of species, but the demon supposed it was easier to put aside differences when fighting a common foe.
Dragons and harpies took to the skies, elven warriors ran side by side with human troops, and centaurs let loose barrages of arrows from the backlines. He caught a glimpse of Belphor surging towards them, the other demon¡¯s wings beating furiously. Regis turned away. Belphor was among the weakest of his generals, but he would be able to handle the centaurs alone. His own attention was better used elsewhere.
The atmosphere rippled. Regis turned, following the stream of magic to its source. At the edge of the fighting, a group of mages stood gathered around a large ritual circle, hands clasped together as they chanted. The runes glowed brighter and brighter as they channeled more of the Pulse¡¯s power, draining the nearby veins of their magic.
Regis flared his wings and dove down, weaving between fired spells and arrows. One of the mages looked up mid chant, eyes widening when they saw him, but it was too late.
The demon slammed down into the center of the circle. The earth quaked beneath his feet as he rose, deep fissures blooming outwards from the impact.
Several mages stumbled and fell backwards. Some of the braver ones began chanting, but in spontaneous combat, ritual mages were always at a disadvantage. Regis reached for the steady warmth of the Ark, drawing from the magic of creation itself.
In a flash of violet light, spears of ice burst forth from the ground, impaling the mages. They choked, gasping for breath. Regis squeezed his fingers, and the ice rose higher. It stretched towards the sky like a tidal wave, crashing down and encasing the area around him in a massive glacier that gleamed in the faint light. The mages hung suspended in that clear prison, even the blood from their wounds frozen.
Cries of fury sounded from behind him. Regis turned to see a squadron of soldiers running towards him, their weapons raised. He could hear their quickened heartbeats and swallowed fear, but they continued to charge at him. He could respect their determination. It was a shame their loyalty was to the otherworlder.
The demon pulled another strand of magic from the Ark and flicked his finger. An invisible force flung the soldiers into the air, where they soon plunged back down to the earth under the weight of gravity. Bones crunched and necks snapped. A few nearby troops cowered back, but Regis didn¡¯t pay them attention.
Where was the otherworlder? He could destroy as much of the army as he wished, but none of it would matter if the otherworlder survived.
The demon closed his eyes, focusing his senses on the mix of magic signatures clashing on the field. There were spells cast from all three possible sources: the Pulse, the Wild, and the Ark. Within that whirlwind, he searched for one particular presence.
Footsteps approached as more soldiers charged. Regis didn¡¯t move, simply putting up a barrier of rot around him that disintegrated anything that crossed it.
There. On the other side of the battlefield, deep within the old crumbling ruins, was the otherworlder. And that wasn¡¯t the only aura he recognized¡ªHal was there as well.
His eyes snapped open. One powerful beat of his wings blew away any foes in the vicinity. After a moment of consideration, he shifted to his diminished form.
His body vanished, dissipating away until it had been replaced by a cloud of black smoke that undulated and twisted at his will. In this form, he easily soared across the sky, a weightless mist traversing the battlefield.
He passed by angels and dragons clashing in the heavens, waves of troops continuing to battle below. High above, the heaps of dead bodies looked like scattered stones. The field was scorched and eroded. By the time the fighting finished, this land would be unrecognizable.
Regis frowned. War was such an ugly thing. It dug its claws into all things beautiful and tore them apart. It left piled bodies and destruction in its wake. This was not the world he loved, but a bastardized mockery of his desires.
Still, he wouldn¡¯t abandon it. Nothing could cause him to.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Up ahead, a few stone structures jutted out from the barren earth. Half broken pillars and crumbled stone formed a jagged silhouette. It was quieter here, the sounds of war muffled by distance, but not silent. Further within, Regis could hear the clear ringing of metal against metal as two figures fought deeper inside the ruins.
The demon slowed his pace. The smoke twisted, coiling and wrapping around itself until it had formed the silhouette of the demon¡¯s body. In another burst of light, he had returned to his true form.
This area had once been a castle, the heart of an ancient empire long since vanished. Cracked stone covered the ground, old worn sigils etched across their surface. Tall pillars stretched towards the sky without a roof to cover them, and a few lingering walls and stained glass windows had survived the destruction. The dim light that filtered through them cast the area in a spattering of dancing hues that almost seemed to mimic the sounds of fighting.
Regis surged forward towards the source of the noise, passing under archways and chunks of debris. Finally, he reached the center of the ruins, where once had stood the castle¡¯s throne room.
Here, two figures fought, moving so quickly that most wouldn¡¯t have been able to see them. Only brief flashes of gleaming blades, pure white feathers, black mist, and blinking eyes. Puddles of crimson dripped down from above, pooling into the cracks in the floor. Neither one stopped.
Regis, however, could follow every movement, and as he entered the space, his eyes traced the path of a shadow-cloaked sword as it impaled the angel beneath it.
Silence fell.
He waited for a familiar silver glow, for bloody wounds and shredded feathers to mend themselves together. They did not. Hal did not get up and continue fighting as he always did. He instead remained motionless, sprawled in blooming red at the otherworlder¡¯s feet.
The otherworlder yanked his blade out. His breaths came in heavy pants. Much of his armor had been shattered, and his face was smeared with blood, grime, and sweat. Despite his clear exhaustion, when he turned to face the demon, pure hatred burned blazing hot in his eyes.
Regis stared at Hal¡¯s unmoving body one final time before steadily meeting the boy¡¯s gaze. Boy, for that was all he would ever be to the demon. A boy summoned to this world who did not and could not understand it, yet saw fit to determine what was right and what should be. A child given too much power now carelessly wielding it, too naive to understand the destruction he left in his wake.
The otherworlder¡ªthe so-called Hero¡ªraised his sword. The shadows around them flickered.
Neither one spoke. Both had already said what they wanted to say and knew what needed to be known. This wasn¡¯t the time for talk. In that field of thousands, with the weight of the world hanging in the balance, they did not hold back.
In the future, historians and poets would write of the moment with awe. They would speak of the way the sky darkened, how the winds picked up and swirled around the ruins, blowing with enough force to crack stone. Surviving soldiers would describe the way the atmosphere grew heavier, how the hairs on their skin rose as the air became visibly tinged with the two¡¯s magic signatures. People living outside the field would claim that they felt the ground quake, that buildings and trees miles away collapsed from the impact.
The Hero and the demon king collided, every ounce of their power condensed into a single strike.
Blinding light lit up the heavens, and then it was done.
The Hero from another world had slain the demon king.
His reign was over.
Dying felt in many ways like being born.
There was the haziness of it, the occasional flashes of sensations that held no real meaning. He was drifting¡ªfloating and falling at the same time. He was everywhere and nowhere. He was the world; he was nothing.
Above it all, Regis felt his soul, torn and carved into a shadow of itself, as it instinctively reached for the comforting warmth of the Ark. From there it had come, and to there it wished to return.
He didn¡¯t let it. Some of his consciousness remained, and with every last ounce of strength he had, he resisted the pull.
He refused to disappear.
Regis didn¡¯t know how much time passed, how long he drifted in that in-between state. Each time his consciousness grew stronger, he focused his effort on avoiding the call of the Ark. And slowly, piece by piece, some of the scattered bits of himself managed to find his damaged soul and latch on.
When Regis fully awakened, it was to an unfamiliar world.
Soft moonlight beamed down from a hazy moon. It illuminated the earth in front of him, highlighting stray dust particles rising towards the sky in clouds. It was quiet, the rustling of leaves and the whistling wind the only sounds breaking the silence of the night.
The stars were different than he remembered. The demon could recognize a few of the constellations¡ªand the ones he could suggested that he was in the southern hemisphere¡ªbut there were enough changes that a fair amount of time must have passed since the battle. Several years at least.
He tried to move. In his peripheral vision, a wisp of smoke unfurled. He looked down.
He was in his diminished form. Stream of black smoke formed his body, hovering slightly above the ground. Regis attempted to shift back into his true form, but nothing happened. It wasn¡¯t that he was unable to¡ªthe smoke still rippled and contorted as commanded¡ªbut rather that nothing formed at all.
That wasn¡¯t the only change. If he focused intensely, he could just barely make out the warmth of the Ark, but it was faint. His connection hadn¡¯t been entirely severed, but it was too weak to draw magic from it. The other two magic sources were even weaker; he couldn¡¯t feel the Pulse or the Wild at all.
He made a few more attempts, but to no avail. The reality of his situation quickly became clear.
Somehow, during that final attack, the otherworlder had managed to completely destroy his true form and cut him off from the vast majority of his power. In his current state, he was no more dangerous than a passing cloud of fog.
But he¡¯d survived.
There had been a brief moment, in that instant before their magic collided, that Regis had thought it was the end. He¡¯d pursued his ambitions to the edge of the road, and from there he would fall.
But he¡¯d survived, and that meant it wasn¡¯t over. He would rebuild his strength; Regis knew how to be patient. He¡¯d survived a millenia in the Flesh Fields, had spent centuries growing his influence. You never know when to quit, Hal had once said, and both then and now it rang true.
It didn¡¯t matter how long it took.
The world would not forget him so easily.
Chapter Two - The Voice in the Smoke
The White Cliffs, The Serpent Isles - 26th day of the Ruby Moon, Year 24 AH
High Mage Reginald lived a charmed life. His days were spent leisurely lounging in his estate, which was furnished with the most high quality magical artifacts, and the occasional public appearance to ensure the world remembered his name.
It wouldn¡¯t do for the Hero¡¯s fifty-third strongest magical ally to be forgotten, after all. He still had an inch long cut from the decisive final battle against the demon king, and he was damned proud of it. He made it a point to wear short sleeves on that arm so everyone could see proof of his boundless courage.
That morning, Reginald woke up an hour after the sun rose, as he always did. He rolled over and went back to sleep, as he always did. And then, two hours later, he sat up and opened his eyes.
But instead of the ornate mahogany furniture he was used to, a different sight greeted him. In the center of his vision, a string of words stretched across a translucent, floating screen.
[System initialization: 7% complete]
He blinked his eyes, attempting to dispel the screen, and frowned when that did nothing. After a few more failed attempts, he rationalized the words as a peculiar prank orchestrated by another mage and brushed it aside. He went about the rest of his day as usual, all the while the number continued climbing up.
It wouldn¡¯t be until high noon that it would reach 100%, at which point High Mage Reginald was forced to admit that what was happening was not a mage¡¯s doing, was not the result of any sort of magic he knew of, and was probably something the likes of which Elaren had never seen.
The mage would be the first to receive the notification in the upcoming weeks.
He was far from the last.
Magburg, The Serpent Isles - 4th day of the Sardonyx Moon, Year 24 AH
The smoke was there again.
Cyrus¡¯s steps slowed, his guard armor clanking a little with the movement. He frowned.
Every time he¡¯d walked by this area for the past week, he¡¯d seen the smoke undulating at the edges of the forest. He¡¯d dismissed it at first; a bit of odd-colored fog wasn¡¯t much write to home about when fae, centaurs, and all manners of creatures resided in the woods. It could even be the result of a human mage playing a prank or firing off an experimental spell.
After six days, though, he was starting to have some doubts.
Cyrus squinted. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the movements of the smoke didn¡¯t look right. It curled and twisted, too weighty to be natural. Real smoke should float upwards and dissipate into a thin haze. This was intent on lingering.
¡°Hurry up!¡±
A rough, disgruntled voice snapped Cyrus out of his thoughts. Further down the road, Theo was watching him, arms crossed and scowling. The man was tall and built with a natural ruggedness to his demeanor¡ªthe stereotypical image of what a guard should look like. It was a fact that seemed to bring him great joy.
¡°Sorry, it¡¯s just¡¡± Cyrus¡¯s gaze shifted back over to the smoke. It hadn¡¯t crossed into the street and therefore technically wasn¡¯t within the village perimeter, but just leaving it there felt wrong. Especially with all the talk of some ¡°System¡± appearing, oddities like this should probably be investigated.
¡°Oh for the love of¡ª¡± Theo huffed and stomped closer, squinting into the treeline. ¡°You staring at that fucking smoke again?¡±
¡°It¡¯s not natural!¡±
The other guard narrowed his eyes. ¡°Yeah? So go check it out.¡±
Cyrus¡¯s movements stilled. Slowly, he turned back to the forest. It was still early in the morning, and the sun hadn¡¯t fully risen. Faint traces of morning light lined the tops of the squat village homes, which casted long shadows across the dirt road. The forest with its dense canopy was still largely cloaked in darkness, the quiet of the morning broken every now and then by a distant rustle. He swallowed and twisted the ring under his guard gloves, a nervous habit that he¡¯d never managed to break.
Theo was right, of course. It was his job to investigate anything unnatural around the village. So what if the smoke was in the woods, where people regularly went missing? He¡¯d gotten trained just like the other guards. This should be a piece of cake.
And yet, despite his own assurances, Cyrus couldn¡¯t get his legs to move. He just stood there, staring at the smoke, until Theo rolled his eyes and shoved him aside with a huff.
¡°Fucking newbies,¡± the guard muttered. He strode confidently towards the trees, drawing his sword at the same time. Cyrus held his breath as the man approached the smoke, slashing his sword around a few times and even sniffing it with zero hesitation.
Nothing happened.
Satisfied, Theo straightened and turned back to the path. ¡°See? It¡¯s nothing!¡±
¡°Why¡¯s it been here so long then?¡± Cyrus countered. Theo shrugged and sheathed his blade.
¡°The festival¡¯s coming up. Might be some weird decoration or something.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t believe some smoke¡®s got you quaking in your boots. Why¡¯d you even sign up to be a guard if you¡¯re just gonna be a pussy the whole time?¡±
Theo clearly wasn¡¯t expecting an answer, simply striding past with a hard slap on the back that sent Cyrus stumbling.
¡°Come on,¡± he said gruffly. ¡°Edna¡¯s gonna be pissed if we¡¯re late.¡±
He kept walking down the streets, not bothering to check if the other guard was following him. Cyrus watched the man, head held high with confidence and ease, and felt not for the first time like an imposter. His fingers clenched into a fist, the cold metal of his ring digging into his palm.
With a final glance back at the smoke, Cyrus turned and hurried after the other guard.
Magburg¡¯s barracks were situated on the northern edge of town. The building was simple and plain, its stone walls dull compared to the lush green forest behind it. The hallways always ran cold, which had been nice when Cyrus was in training and running through drills, but was less welcome when they were just trying to get to the office for their morning report. He stopped at the end of the hallway and pushed the heavy oak door open.
Edna had been the guard captain for as long as he remembered. Wrinkles framed hard, weathered features, and her tight bun only added to the severe look. She was old enough to remember the demon king¡¯s reign of terror and subsequent defeat twenty years ago, which gave her added authority and respect.
¡°Sir,¡± Cyrus said, saluting. Edna just grunted in response as Theo shut the door behind them.
¡°Anything odd?¡±
Cyrus hesitated, taken aback by the abruptness of the question. He glanced back at Theo, who didn¡¯t look like he was going to say anything. Should he mention the smoke? Theo had just tested it though, right?
Slowly, he shook his head. ¡°No, sir. Uh, did something happen?¡± The guard captain seemed unusually on edge, even more so than she¡¯d already been the rest of the week.
Edna heaved a weary sigh. She turned to her desk and picked up a stack of files, thrusting them in the other two guards¡¯ faces. Cyrus had to squint to make out what they said, but they looked like reports. A few words and phrases jumped out at him. ¡°System.¡± ¡°Screens.¡± ¡°Skills and abilities.¡± There was only one thing this could be about.
¡°So¡it¡¯s real?¡±
¡°Of course it¡¯s real,¡± Edna snapped. She rubbed her forehead. ¡°The Ministry hasn¡¯t said a word yet. Either this hasn¡¯t reached the mainland, or they¡¯re being slow. As usual,¡± she added in a grumble.
¡°Or it¡¯s their fault,¡± Theo said. Edna shot him a disapproving look. The other guard shrugged.
¡°What? I¡¯m telling you, it¡¯s probably some archmage messing around with projection magic or something. It¡¯ll disappear and they¡¯ll send an apology in a month.¡±
It didn¡¯t seem too far-fetched of an idea to Cyrus. He distinctly remembered that time all the clouds had turned pink because one of the archmage¡¯s was fiddling with a new weather spell. That had been a funny one, though it hadn¡¯t been quite as amusing when a bunch of pissed off harpies whipped up nonstop storms for the next week as revenge.
¡°Unfortunately, I doubt this ¡®system¡¯ will be disappearing any time soon.¡± Edna¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°It¡¯s been granting¡abilities, I hear. Some sort of leveling system with numbers and the like. Its effects are quite real.¡±
She turned to Theo and Cyrus. ¡°Have either of you seen anything yet?¡±
Cyrus quickly shook his head, followed by Theo at a much more relaxed pace. Edna nodded.
¡°Alright. If either of you receives one of these ¡¯notifications,¡¯ I want you to tell me immediately. None of the people who¡¯ve seen these screens have reported any ill side effects yet, but I want to be sure.¡±
¡°Sounds like it¡¯s doing the opposite of ill side effects,¡± Theo remarked casually. Edna gave him an unimpressed look.
¡°Until then,¡± she continued as though the other guard hadn¡¯t spoken, ¡°Both of you keep an eye out. So far only humans have reported anything, but we have no way of tracking what other species have experienced. If it truly does grant new abilities and opportunities to build strength, then it¡¯s more imperative than ever to remain vigilant. With the festival coming up, I won¡¯t tolerate any ¡®funny business.¡¯ Understood?¡±
Cyrus quickly nodded, mumbling an assent. That seemed to be enough for Edna, who nodded and dismissed them with a wave. Cyrus made another salute on instinct, then hurried out the door.
As soon as it shut behind them, Theo rolled his eyes. ¡°Told you, she always gets like this when the festival rolls around.¡±
Cyrus winced and glanced back at the door, but he couldn¡¯t hear anything inside. He started walking in an attempt to draw the other guard further away before he said something that got them both in trouble.
¡°I mean, I get it.¡± He and Theo had both been young when the demon king was defeated; the most they really knew of the war was the legends and fables told throughout their childhoods. For them, the festival was just that¡ªa celebration of the demon king¡¯s defeat. For the ones who¡¯d actually lived through the war, though, Cyrus imagined there was a lot more wariness around the anniversary.
¡°He¡¯s been dead for twenty years, you¡¯d think they¡¯d¡¯ve learned to chill out by now.¡± Theo huffed. ¡°Whatever. Better get back to patrol before the scary smoke gets you.¡±
Cyrus made an affronted noise, but the other guard was already exiting the barracks. He had no choice but to follow after him, thoughts of the festival and the System still lingering in his mind.
Cyrus was all too happy when the end of his shift arrived. He had no idea how people like Theo could tolerate evening shifts on top of their morning ones.
The rest of the day had passed achingly slowly. He couldn¡¯t even distract himself by watching festival preparations since his route took him around the village perimeter. At least it would be a surprise when he actually did go to the festival. This would be his first year in Magburg, and he was curious to see how celebrations differed from his hometown.
Thoughts of his old village quickly soured his mood, and Cyrus shook the memories away. This was a fresh start. He refused to think about the past.
He picked up his pace, metal armor clanking with each step. The sun was just beginning to set, and a cool breeze rustled the forest branches. His home sat on the village outskirts, and while he wasn¡¯t a fan of being so close to the woods, the privacy was nice.
Cyrus stepped inside and shut the door, sighing in relief as he threw off his guard helmet. The interior of the space was small and still filled with boxes that he hadn¡¯t unpacked yet. It hardly looked like a home at all in its current state, more like a storage shed, but he was confident he¡¯d get everything unpacked and sorted. Eventually. It wasn¡¯t his fault that every time he opened a box, a fresh wave of memories hit that made him want to give up entirely.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
He removed the rest of his armor and stepped out the back door once he was done. Facing the trees, the sky pink and gold above him, he breathed in the fresh air. Another day almost over.
Cyrus turned to head back indoors before it got dark, but a flash of movement in the corner of his eye made him freeze in place.
There, drifting at the edge of the forest, was the black smoke.
¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± Cyrus whispered. He looked around, but there was no one else nearby. It was just him, his house, and that strange smoke.
The guard swallowed, willing himself to calm down. It had probably just spread here because of the wind, nothing to worry about. Theo had even gone up to it earlier. He could practically see the other guard¡¯s sneer in his mind, could hear his mocking voice. Coward, he would say. Always running. Cyrus clenched his jaw and stared at the smoke again.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he strode forward towards the treeline.
Stopping just outside the smoke¡¯s range, Cyrus squinted at it. Its movements still felt unnatural to him, but it really did look just like ordinary smoke. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and slowly reached towards it. A few wisps swirled around his hand, and he instinctively jerked his arm back. Cyrus flushed, feeling foolish for his jumpiness.
Exhaling, he extended his hand again, but this time he kept it there, letting the smoke undulate around it. There was no particular sensation, just the usual wind. It really was just smoke, Cyrus thought. His shoulders relaxed. Theo was probably right about it being some wayward festival decoration. It was stupid of him to get this worked up over something like this when the System was a much bigger issue.
Satisfied, he lowered his arm and turned to return indoors.
¡°Good evening.¡±
Cyrus yelped and tumbled backwards, landing hard in the grass. His head snapped around, but he didn¡¯t see anyone.
¡°I apologize, I didn¡¯t mean to alarm you. Are you alright?¡±
The voice spoke again¡ªsmooth, rich, and warm. It echoed around him, seeming to emanate from everywhere all at once. Cyrus¡¯s eyes landed on the smoke, still swirling innocuously by the trees. The voice couldn¡¯t be coming from anything else. His pounding heartbeat roared in his ears.
¡°Who¡ªwhat are you!?¡±
There was no answer at first. The silence stretched long enough that Cyrus was seriously starting to wonder if he¡¯d hallucinated the voice, but then it suddenly spoke again.
¡°Remnants,¡± it said, still in that calm, serene tone. Cyrus furrowed his brow.
¡°Like¡a spirit?¡± It wasn¡¯t unheard of for lingering souls to manifest as apparitions, but it was rare. Reapers were usually good about collecting every soul that passed in the material plane.
¡°That would be an apt comparison, yes.¡±
The smoke continued to sway, and Cyrus swallowed. He still didn¡¯t move closer, but so far it didn¡¯t seem like this spirit (or whatever it was) wanted to hurt him. Something about its voice was oddly soothing, and he couldn¡¯t help his rising curiosity.
¡°If you¡¯re some kind of ghost, why¡¯re you here?¡±
The voice hummed thoughtfully. ¡°In truth, I¡¯m not quite sure myself. My memories are a bit hazy, but I¡¯ve been drifting for a long time.¡±
Cold dread settled deep in the pit of Cyrus¡¯s stomach. It couldn¡¯t be. But if the voice was really a lost soul and it had followed Cyrus, what if¡?
The sound of roaring waves filled his ears, old memories crashing over him like a tide. His ring felt like it was burning around his finger. There was no way. This was supposed to be a fresh start. It couldn¡¯t possibly be.
Cyrus shot up. In his panic, he barely processed scrambling onto his feet and bolting back into his house, that serene voice calling worriedly after him.
He slammed the door shut, breaths coming in heavy pants. Cyrus closed his eyes.
There was no way.
He barely slept that night. Every time his mind drifted off, he¡¯d hear the voice again, would see flashes of that day by the water, and then he¡¯d shoot out of bed and swear he saw smoke in the corner of his room.
In the end, Cyrus gave up on sleeping altogether and took to pacing around, reasoning to himself. The spirit hadn¡¯t recognized him (but it said its memory was hazy). If it was who he thought it was, then he would recognize the voice (who knew how voices were distorted after death).
By the time the sun began to peek out from below the horizon, Cyrus, sleep deprived and half-mad with his own doubts, yanked open the back door and marched outside.
The smoke was still exactly where it had been last night. He hadn¡¯t dreamed it, then. Clenching his fist, Cyrus stepped closer. Exhaustion and his own desperate need to know the truth emboldened his movements.
¡°Are you Anne?¡± he blurted out.
There was no immediate response, and for a crazed moment Cyrus wondered if he¡¯d imagined the spirit entirely¡ªdriven insane by his own guilt and grief.
Finally, after a few seconds had passed, the voice spoke.
¡°No, I do not recognize that name.¡±
Relief washed over him like a crashing wave, so powerful that he nearly stumbled. Of course not, what had he been thinking? He really was losing his mind.
¡°Forgive me for asking,¡± the voice continued, its tone gentle, ¡°but was Anne your wife? I couldn¡¯t help but notice your ring.¡±
Cyrus¡¯s hand flew protectively over the ring in question. He hadn¡¯t thought the spirit would notice.
¡°Yeah,¡± he said, voice hoarse. ¡°Yeah, she was.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry, I did not wish to bring up painful memories for you. I know something of loss myself.¡±
He glanced up. ¡°You do?¡±
The smoke swayed, as though nodding. The voice took on a distant, almost wistful tone. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve lost much over the years. Companions, homes, dreams. I never imagined I would linger on in this state.¡±
Cyrus felt a tinge of sympathy for the strange spirit. It sounded like this soul hadn¡¯t meant to remain, but had simply been missed by the Reapers. He couldn¡¯t imagine drifting around the world, caught between life and death, without anyone to talk to. It was already bad enough to be alone when living.
¡°Is there, I mean, do you know any way you could pass on?¡± he tried asking.
The voice was silent for a moment. When it finally answered, its words were slow.
¡°I have a theory,¡± it began. Cyrus perked up.
¡°Really? What is it? Can I help?¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to trouble you,¡± the spirit said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have better things to do than humoring a dead man.¡±
¡°It¡¯s still early,¡± Cyrus pointed out. ¡°My shift doesn¡¯t start for a few hours.¡±
¡°You still need to eat. Is your family not waiting for you?¡±
Cyrus pursued his lips, eyes darting away. ¡°I live alone,¡± he admitted. ¡°My parents died when I was young.¡± The only family he¡¯d had was Anne, he didn¡¯t say, but the spirit seemed to understand.
¡°I see,¡± it said in a soft tone. ¡°In that case, I would be immensely grateful to you for assisting me.¡±
Cyrus nodded, shoving away the memories to focus again on the present. ¡°Yeah, of course. What do you need me to do?¡±
¡°Please come closer,¡± the smoke instructed, ¡°and focus. You should feel a slight warmth. I¡¯d like you to concentrate on that sensation. Imagine yourself reaching for it.¡±
He hesitated. ¡°Is it going to hurt?¡±
¡°No,¡± the voice said. It sounded sincere. ¡°I promise it will not hurt.¡±
Cyrus thought it over a moment longer before he finally took a step forward. What did he have to lose, anyway? If this worked out, at least he¡¯d have done something worthwhile in his life. Done a little good. It wasn¡¯t enough to make up for his past mistakes, nothing would ever be enough, but it was something. Besides, if Anne had been trapped as a spirit like this, unable to pass into the Pulse, he would¡¯ve wanted someone to help her, too.
The guard inhaled. He was right in front of the smoke now, which really did look completely formless. He¡¯d always pictured spirits retaining some of their living shape, but maybe that was his own limited knowledge. Who knew what shape the soul took?
Cyrus focused, attempting to search for that warmth the spirit had spoken about. There was nothing at first, and he was beginning to get discouraged before he finally felt it.
It was faint, barely stronger than a candle flame would be, but constant. The spirit hadn¡¯t lied; it didn¡¯t hurt at all. If anything, the sensation was comforting in its steadiness.
¡°I think I feel something,¡± Cyrus said.
¡°Good,¡± the spirit said approvingly. ¡°Now please try to reach for that sensation.¡±
Cyrus frowned, but did as instructed. It was difficult, with the warmth being as subtle as it was. He closed his eyes and concentrated, imagining a hand gripping onto a little flame. He could feel himself getting closer. He gritted his teeth. He was almost there.
A sudden chill washed over him. Cyrus¡¯s eyes flew open. He gasped and grabbed his chest, but it was cold. None of the warmth was there anymore.
¡°I¡ª¡±
His voice cut off.
All around him was a void of darkness. The coiling smoke rose like an incoming wave, completely cloaking and enveloping the area until there was nothing left. Cyrus¡¯s whole body froze. All he could do was stare as it continued to expand.
The smoke rushed straight at him.
Cyrus¡¯s vision went black. The sounds around him grew muffled, as though he was floating through layers of liquid. His whole body felt sluggish and heavy, and that ghostly chill spread from his spine and crawled up his limbs. Cyrus tried to move, tried to open his mouth, but he couldn¡¯t. Nothing was working. Nothing made sense.
He felt himself fall through the darkness. Images flashed past him, memories clawed loose. So vivid and sharp that they hurt to look at.
There was him and Anne standing on the rocks, the cool spray of ocean water against their faces. Their laughter ringing out into the open sky, brand new rings gleaming in the light. Alone on the shore, the sunset behind them, it had felt like they were the only ones in the world.
More laughter, splashing, running. It was slippery, the rocks sharp, but they were wild with the courage of youth.
A single wrong shove was all it took to break the reverie.
Cyrus saw her eyes clearly in his mind, wide with shock and terror as she tumbled backwards. He heard the crack of a skull hitting sharp stone. The waves washed away red.
¡°It was your fault,¡± a voice rang in his mind. It sounded familiar, but in his haze, Cyrus couldn¡¯t tell who it belonged to.
It was an accident, he tried to say. I didn¡¯t mean to. It was an accident.
¡°And yet you didn¡¯t tell anyone. You let the ocean carry her corpse away. You ran, and you¡¯re still running.¡±
I didn¡¯t, I wasn¡¯t¡ª
His protests sounded weak even to his own ears. Months of suppressed guilt returned in full force, and with it his mind seemed to grow fuzzier and fuzzier as his surroundings slipped away. Where was he? Who was he talking to? Why did any of this matter?
¡°Sleep,¡± the voice said.
Cyrus closed his eyes. Sleep. If he slept, maybe when he woke up this would all have been one big nightmare. Everything would return to the way it was. He wouldn¡¯t have to fear anything anymore.
¡°Sleep,¡± the voice said again.
¡°Sleep.¡±
Cyrus let himself sink away.
The door of the guard barracks creaked open. Theo glanced up with a frown. There was supposed to be another three hours before the next barracks shift change.
He opened his mouth, about to point out that the idiot was early, when he stopped. He recognized the person standing in the doorway. A scowl stretched across his face.
¡°Cyrus, what the fuck? You didn¡¯t show up this morning!¡± He strode forward, jabbing an accusing finger at the younger guard. ¡°I had to cover for you! You know how pissed Edna was?¡±
Cyrus didn¡¯t respond, which only served to increase Theo¡¯s fury.
¡°What, you too good to answer me?¡± He moved to grab Cyrus by the collar, but before he could drag the other guard closer, a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist.
Fingers dug into skin, pressing down with far more pressure than he would¡¯ve thought the new guard capable of. Theo felt something snap and yelled in pain.
A second hand flew over his mouth, muffling the sound before it could escape.
¡°I would appreciate it,¡± Cyrus said, ¡°if you would try to remain quiet.¡± He smiled, the expression perfectly pleasant, but it sent a chill down Theo¡¯s spine.
That wasn¡¯t Cyrus. What in the Ark was going on? His heart raced. He fumbled for his weapon with his unbroken hand, but he never managed to unsheathe his sword.
A blade plunged straight through his neck.
Theo choked. Cyrus twisted the knife, severing the guard¡¯s arteries before yanking it out.
The human slumped forward, falling limply onto the ground. Warm blood dripped down from his sliced neck, forming a steadily growing puddle of red around him. He released a gargled sound.
The figure above gazed down indifferently. It was only after all the life had bled out of the guard that he finally turned away and continued calmly down the hall.
The barracks were quiet at night. Soft moonlight seeped through narrow windows, illuminating the slumped figures strewn about the cold stone floors. Dark liquid bloomed around their bodies, pooling into the cracks in the ground and spreading like a scarlet web.
A young man stepped between the still bodies. He shut the door of the building office, where the crates inside had been upended and stray papers lay scattered across the ground around the corpse lying in their center.
The figure¡¯s footsteps echoed throughout the quiet building, the only living being left in the barracks. Words flashed across his vision, but he continued walking forward at a steady pace.
He strode through the narrow hallways and out the back exit. His shoes sank into soft earth, and around him, stone walls gave way to tall trees stretching towards the starry sky. He paused for a moment to gaze up at those scattered lights, to breath in the crisp night air, before he continued deeper into the forest.
Up ahead, the sound of running water rang out from a shallow stream. The figure stopped at its edge, bending down and peering at his reflection.
Wavy black hair and bloodstained bronze skin greeted him. Handsome by human standards. He raised a hand and touched his face, turning it and examining it with clinical detachment. In the water, green eyes stared back at him.
Now that he was alone in the forest, he finally gave himself enough time to read the notifications that had appeared in his vision. He skimmed past the first few, all of which were variations of the same message, and focused on the unique screens at the end.
[You have gained experience!]
[You have leveled up! 1 ¡ª> 5]
[You have gained the [Deceiver (Uncommon)] title]
[You have gained the [Amplify Vice] ability]
[You have gained the [Fear] species trait]
[Would you like to view status screen? Yes/No]
Regis smiled to himself. In the water, his vessel¡¯s eyes briefly flashed violet before fading back to green. He cocked his head, studying the notifications with interest.
¡°Now,¡± he murmured. ¡°What is this?¡±
Chapter Three - A New World Order
Magburg, The Serpent Isles - 5th day of the Sardonyx Moon, Year 24 AH
Regis had witnessed many things in his life. He¡¯d clawed his way out of the Flesh Fields, traversed the oceans battling the fomorians, explored the deepest reaches of the Wild, conquered continents. The world was vast in its wonders, an ever changing landscape that brought with it new surprises and delights. He could bask in it forever¡ªhad every intention of doing so.
And yet, never had he seen anything quite like this.
Name: Regis
Level: 5 (Tier 0)
Species: Demon
Titles: [The Once and Last Conqueror (Unique)], [Deceiver (Common)]
Major Aspect: [Locked]
Minor Aspect: [Locked]
Strength: [Locked]
Agility: [Locked]
Constitution: [Locked]
Mana: [Locked]
Will: [Locked]
Species Traits: [Demonic Senses 1]
Major Aspect Traits: [Locked]
Minor Aspect Traits: [Locked]
Abilities: [Demonic Possession 1], [Amplify Vice 1], [Thaumaturgy 1]
The words hovered across a translucent screen that glowed softly in his vision. He raised a finger to touch it, but it passed straight through the same way it would for an illusion. Regis smiled, admiring the complexity. If this was crafted from magic, then its maker had outdone themselves. He¡¯d like to meet them someday.
After waking up in his diminished form, he¡¯d travelled through various villages, keeping in the shadows where he wouldn¡¯t be seen. Flitting conversations and notice boards filled in gaps in his knowledge of the current world, but he¡¯d never been able to get close enough to learn as much as he wished.
The first time the System appeared, it had been abundantly clear to him that something was wrong. He saw it in the tenseness of the mayor¡¯s shoulders, in the back and forth pacing of the head guard through the barracks window. In the days that followed, a nearly tangible energy coursed through the air, strengthened by whispered rumors tinged with both fear and excitement¡ªthe buzzing energy of a world on the brink of fundamental change. It had been easy to recognize. He¡¯d once been the cause of it himself, after all.
As a result, when that first System initialization notification had appeared, he¡¯d already been prepared for something exceptional. It had still managed to surprise him.
Regis¡¯s eyes flitted down the status screen, comparing it to the notifications he¡¯d seen thus far and the initial level 1 version that he¡¯d viewed.
According to the files he¡¯d found in the head guard¡¯s office, the System¡¯s existence had first been reported earlier that week. Subsequent reports mentioned a unique status screen, seemingly tailored to each individual, and the existence of ¡°traits¡± and ¡°abilities.¡± Based on his own experiences so far, this initial assessment was correct.
He focused on the new abilities he¡¯d received.
Name: Amplify Vice
Level: 1
Mana Cost: Low
Cooldown: Medium
Description: Allows user to amplify a single vice (pride, wrath, gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed) within a selected target through touch. Skill cannot be used again on the same target for the rest of the day.
Name: Thaumaturgy
Level: 1
Mana Cost: Low
Cooldown: Low
Description: User can create small bursts of magical phenomena within a limited scale and range.
Regis hummed to himself. The descriptions were a tad sparse for his liking, particularly the second, but he could experiment with the abilities later. The [Deceiver] title, on the other hand, did exactly as its name suggested, purporting to boost the effectiveness of lies by minimizing physiological tells. He suspected it was a title that would prove significantly more useful to other species.
By now, he¡¯d gathered that titles had variable effects, traits provided passive boosts, and abilities were active. It was rather neat and tidy¡ªperhaps overly simplistic. He hadn¡¯t yet had a chance to test how this System worked with the existing magic sources.
For now, Regis willed the screens away. They scattered into glowing lights, an effect that he found rather charming.
The demon rose, reaching for the bag of items he¡¯d taken from the guard barracks. Based on the building¡¯s shift schedule, he still had an hour before the next group of guards would arrive and discover the corpses, but he would rather leave now in the event that someone appeared early. Fortunately Cyrus¡¯s home was situated at the edge of the forest, so he would be able to reach it without needing to traverse the village streets.
Regis swung the bag over his shoulder and continued onward.
Cyrus¡¯s home was cloaked in shadows. [Demonic Senses] retained Regis¡¯s darkvision, so he had no need for additional light. Though on second thought, this may be a good opportunity to test his new abilities.
The demon turned to the candle sitting at the edge of the table. He raised a finger and activated [Thaumaturgy]. In a flash of light, a small flame burst atop the wick. He activated the ability a few more times and found that he could snuff the flame and slowly increase its size with multiple uses, but the initial fire was always quite small. Interesting.
Regis set the bag down and turned to the bookshelves lining the walls. He¡¯d already read through every text he could find in the house earlier, and one book still sat open. [Thaumaturgy] could flip its pages, but it couldn¡¯t lift the book itself.
After a few more experiments, he had a much better sense of the ability¡¯s range and limitations. Satisfied, Regis turned back to the table.
Cyrus¡¯s home was small and sparse in belongings. The few possessions he owned were largely stored away in half-opened boxes that the human had never unpacked. Regis had rifled through them in the morning, filling a traveling bag with anything he thought would prove useful. Now, Regis transferred the items he¡¯d taken from the barracks over to the larger bag. He would need to leave the village tonight. Once the state of the barracks was discovered, the entire area would be on alert. He didn¡¯t want to risk anyone recognizing Cyrus¡¯s body.
That had, after all, been the main reason he¡¯d chosen the guard as his vessel. After System initialization was complete and he¡¯d seen [Demonic Possession], his next steps had been clear. He¡¯d quickly formulated a plan.
Regis rarely possessed vessels in the past. He had little need for it between his true, lesser, and diminished forms. This new system granted ability was similar to his old power, but significantly more limited in scope. He could only possess a willing person. He had to remain within the same vessel for a substantial amount of time due to the ability¡¯s cooldown period.
With these restrictions in mind, Regis had been careful when surveying the village. He¡¯d wanted someone healthy and decently athletic, naive enough to listen to him without suspecting his true identity, and with few relationships. Cyrus had been the perfect fit. After killing Edna, Theo, and smudging out the list of employed guards in the barracks office, Cyrus¡¯s existence had effectively been wiped away from public records.
Regis gave the bag a final check before closing it shut. He gazed outside. Through the window, a thin haze surrounded the silver moon. The outside was quiet, even to his enhanced hearing. Magburg was still deep in sleep.
The demon washed away any lingering bloodstains on his skin and changed into a fresh set of traveling clothes, then gave the house a final sweep to ensure he hadn¡¯t missed anything. Once he was satisfied, he took his gathered supplies and exited the home for the last time.
Regis tilted his head back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. He hadn¡¯t been able to feel anything in his diminished form, and this was a refreshing change.
Around him, a soft breeze rustled the trees lining the dirt road. The morning sun highlighted the dust particles that rose with each step, and Regis found himself pausing to pick a few grasses. They were still damp with morning dew. He hadn¡¯t realized how much he¡¯d missed these little sensations. It felt like he was experiencing the world for the first time again, now in this human body.
Regis adjusted his bag and glanced down at the simple map he¡¯d taken from the barracks office. He should reach the next closest village in a few hours, where he would be able to gather more information. Cyrus hadn¡¯t owned many reading materials, and he¡¯d only gained limited knowledge during his time in his diminished state. There were still many things he didn¡¯t know about the current state of the world.
If he¡¯d traveled through the night, he would¡¯ve reached the town by now, but he¡¯d needed to stop and rest. Sleeping, Regis decided, was not an experience he was particularly fond of. It had been necessary, given the state of his vessel, but he hadn¡¯t enjoyed how vulnerable he¡¯d felt. It was difficult to understand why so many humans seemed happy to lose consciousness, some even doing so for leisure. He hoped that, as [Demonic Possession] levelled, he might be less beholden to this new body¡¯s limitations.
The demon folded the map and stored it away, continuing down the road.
Around noon, Regis experienced yet another side effect of his human vessel. His stomach rumbled, and he glanced down with faint amusement. The human body, it seemed, enjoyed announcing its needs, but he supposed in his case it was useful while he adjusted to the feeling of ¡°hunger.¡±
The demon glanced around. This section of the road cut through the forest; the path itself was largely overgrown with weeds and grasses. Colorful mushrooms dotted the area, and he could see several berry bushes deeper into the forest ranging from dark red to pale pink in hue.
He¡¯d packed some food, of course. Cyrus¡¯s home had contained a few dried goods and preserves, but he¡¯d rather not deplete his provisions so soon. His eyes landed on the plants, and he hummed. The berries seemed promising, but he didn¡¯t know what was and was not edible.
A flash of movement appeared in the corner of his eyes. Regis turned, his gaze landing on a small rabbit sitting beside a tree trunk. Its nose twitched as it nibbled on some grass. The demon eyed the creature thoughtfully.
He took a step closer. The rabbit didn¡¯t move. Normally animals avoided him, and this had held true the few times he¡¯d occupied a vessel in the past as well. In his current weakened state, however, it was possible the creature could no longer sense his demonic soul. For now, it was a boon.
Regis advanced forward and only came to a stop when he was within an arm¡¯s reach of the rabbit. He raised a hand.
Lightning quick, he reached out and grabbed the creature. It squirmed in his hand, fur surprisingly soft. The movement had felt faster than when he¡¯d been disposing of the guards in the prison, he noted. He suspected he was gaining agility despite the area currently being locked on his status screen.
¡°Shh, calm down,¡± Regis said, petting the rabbit soothingly. It continued to squirm, but he maintained a firm grip as he carried it over to the first of the berry bushes. He plucked one and held it up to the animal¡¯s mouth. It took some coaxing, but eventually it nibbled on the fruit.
Regis waited a minute, but the rabbit showed no ill side effects. ¡°Good,¡± he praised. He moved onto the next experiment, a patch of berries so pale that they were nearly white. This time, the rabbit thrashed as he brought the berry closer. It refused to chew on it even when he gave it a warning pinch. Regis hummed thoughtfully.
¡°Alright, I understand.¡± He set the animal down, and it immediately scampered away, disappearing into the bushes. He could¡¯ve eaten it, but from what he understood humans couldn¡¯t consume raw meat. He¡¯d rather not start a fire and risk the smoke being seen, and the process would¡¯ve been more time consuming than he¡¯d like.
Regis wiped his hand and turned to the first bush. While this wasn¡¯t a guarantee that the plant would also be safe for humans to eat, he felt reasonably confident that the berries would not, at least, result in immediate death.
He picked one and chewed it slowly. It had a sharp, tangy taste, and there were no ill side effects after waiting a few minutes. The demon ate enough to stop his stomach¡¯s growling, then stored more away for later. After some consideration, he picked some of the pale berries as well, stashing them securely away in their own bag.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Once he was done, he rose and continued his journey through the forest.
It wasn¡¯t until the sun was high in the sky that Regis finally reached the next town. He passed by a few farmers carrying pails of water and other travelers along the road, but none of them gave him a second glance. For the most part, the road was largely empty.
The town, however, was brimming with people. Regis slowed his steps as he neared, taking in the compact, dense wooden buildings clustered around wide dirt streets crowded with humans. A steady stream of them seemed to be moving towards the center of the town. Regis tugged his cloak closer and followed.
There, standing in the center of a large square, was an older man holding a paper in his hand. A few guards stood nearby with their weapons sheathed, peering threateningly down at the gathered crowd through their helmets.
¡°¡ªthe Grand Ministry has stated that no archmage is responsible for the System¡¯s appearance! They¡¯re currently researching its origin and advise us all to be patient, but you can rest assured that it is not dangerous. Please remain calm if you receive any System notifications.¡±
The man¡¯s voice was strained. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, a growing number of questions shouted at the increasingly harried looking man.
¡°Are there any known side effects?¡±
¡°Is it true everyone¡¯ll end up with one?¡±
¡°What about the other species?¡±
¡°When¡¯re we gonna get ours?¡±
¡°Now now,¡± the man said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. ¡°One at a time, please!¡± As if on cue, the guards moved closer in silent threat.
Regis remained a little longer to see if the man¡ªthe town¡¯s mayor, he presumed¡ªwould reveal any new information, but it soon became clear that he was as in the dark as the villagers throwing questions at him. It was an endless barrage, and he suspected they would be there for a long time. He turned away. After glancing around to survey the stores around the square, he ducked into a small bookstore.
A bell rang as the demon stepped inside. The sounds of the crowd were muffled here, the gathered townspeople appearing like a shadowy mass through the windows. Regis looked around.
The store was larger than it appeared at first glance. Tall crowded shelves lined the walls, and more tables had been set out with stacks of books atop them. Judging from the worn floor and ceiling, the shop was quite old.
At the counter was a young boy with pointed ears and mussed hair. A half-elf, Regis guessed. He looked too young to be responsible for the store, but judging by how empty it was, he assumed the actual owner had gone outside to listen to the announcement, leaving the boy responsible. He was currently hunched over the counter, scribbling furiously away on a piece of paper.
Regis turned and eyed the book shelves, brushing past the fiction and searching for recent works and historical accounts of the past twenty years. His eyes landed on a book titled, REBUILDING: THE NEW GRAND MINISTRY. It seemed like a decent enough place to start.
He removed the book and flipped the cover open, a cloud of dust rising as he did so. With the assistance of his unique title, he should be able to read through all the books in this section within half an hour.
Title: The Once and Last Conqueror
Rarity: Unique
Description: The once unbeatable conqueror defeated and reduced to a weakened state. Though your body was destroyed, mind and soul remember. Grants perfect memory recall, Mana +10, and Will +20. Regained abilities and traits level twice as quickly.
This had been the first part of his initial status screen that he¡¯d checked, and it remained the most curious one. It seemed to function as a catch-all, bundling his eidetic memory into a system granted title while also confirming that the locked sections of his status screen were still in use despite not being able to view them.
The most interesting takeaway for him, however, had been the tone of the description. Perhaps it was imagination, but there was a touch of animosity to that first line. The rest of the System¡¯s messages thus far had been objective and emotionless, but this lent credence to the idea that a person was responsible for the System¡¯s existence. Who they were and what their purpose was, however, remained a mystery.
He currently didn¡¯t have the resources to run a trace spell on the System, nor could he sense any particular magic signature from the notifications. Whether that was because there was none or because he was too weakened to sense it, he did not know. Regardless, it was a curiosity that he wouldn¡¯t be able to satiate until later. For now, he focused his attention on the task at hand.
Regis flipped steadily through the pages, memorizing their contents, though he made sure to move slower than he needed to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Like this, it would look like he was simply skimming.
His eyes moved through paragraphs of text, digesting the information. He returned the book to its original location and moved on to the next one, continuing down the aisle in order.
At the very end of the shelf, he found a thicker text that was purportedly a chronicle of the major events in the war. After a few pages, however, it became clear that it was less a factual document than it was a fictionalized retelling.
¡°¡but after twelve failed summons, humanity¡¯s prayers were answered and the Hero appeared. A young man barely grown, plucked from his former life, but carrying the weight of our world on his shoulders¡¡±
¡°¡together with his gathered companions, the Hero stoked hope in the hopeless. He rallied together humans, centaurs, harpies, giants, elves, angels, and more for the first time in centuries, proving that the demon king could not stand a chance against a united force¡¡±
On and on it went, relaying the events of the war like an epic fable from the Hero¡¯s perspective. The author clearly had a flair for the dramatic, Regis thought as he traced the words with a finger. He suspected the heavy emphasis on unity doubled as a way to encourage the continuation of species alliances after the war.
Considering the other books he¡¯d just read, it seemed that despite humanity¡¯s best efforts, those alliances had not lasted.
Regis flipped through more pages, soon reaching a section listing all the major actors in the war with brief descriptions of them. Most were dedicated to the otherworlder¡¯s side, but he had his own paragraph. It wasn¡¯t particularly accurate, but it was amusing to read nonetheless. His pace slowed.
The next page held a list of his generals. Most were given only the sparsest of descriptions stating their role and current status. His eyes landed on the first line under his own.
¡°Halcyon - The demon king¡¯s strongest and most loyal general. Killed by the Hero in the Field of the Fallen.¡±
A memory rose unbidden. The shine of a sword as it was yanked away, dripping scarlet. A collapsed, lifeless body limp on the ground.
Regis frowned. The images vanished nearly as suddenly as they¡¯d appeared. Odd. He¡¯d never had memories resurface unprompted like this before. Was this another side effect of his human vessel?
He shook his head and returned his attention to the page, scanning the other lines. The few of his generals afforded more space, it seemed, were the ones who¡¯d betrayed him, nevermind how inconsequential or weak they¡¯d been. They were hailed as heroes, once strayed from the righteous path, who¡¯d found their way back to the light.
One of which currently lived on this very island.
Regis¡¯s eyes narrowed. He paged through the book more closely, but there was no address listed. Not here or in any of the other texts he¡¯d read. It must not be public knowledge, but surely the locals would be aware of it.
¡°You gonna buy something?¡±
Regis glanced up. At the counter, the half-elf boy had looked away from his drawing and was now frowning at him. His eyes flitted between the demon and the window, where the noises from the crowd had grown even louder.
Regis returned the book to the shelf and sent him an amicable smile. Perhaps he would be able to learn the address here after all.
¡°My apologies, it seems I lost track of time.¡± He stepped over to one of the long tables and picked up an atlas with far more detail than the local map he was currently using. He set the atlas down on the counter. The boy eyed him suspiciously.
¡°...That¡¯s it?¡± He looked a little put out, gesturing at the shelf Regis had just gone through. ¡°None of those good enough?¡±
Regis chuckled. ¡°Not quite, I¡¯m afraid.¡± His eyes landed on the piece of paper the boy had been drawing on.
Up close, he recognized them as runes¡ªones often employed by users of the Pulse. The boy seemed to be trying to piece them together into a more complicated string, though he¡¯d clearly grown frustrated judging from the amount of crossed out lines. It was missing a few key rune combinations and some of the characters had been written incorrectly, Regis noted, but it was a good start for a boy so young.
¡°Are you studying magic?¡± he asked. ¡°That looks quite advanced.¡±
¡°Doesn¡¯t matter if it doesn¡¯t work,¡± the boy grumbled. He grabbed the atlas and peered down at the price tag.
¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that. Many seasoned mages still struggle to create their own spells. At your age, this is very impressive.¡± Regis tilted his head. ¡°Although, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, why are you studying the Pulse? Do you not have access to the Wild?¡±
Of the three magic sources, the Pulse was the most universal. It drew from the magic that flowed through the veins of the material plane, and anyone could learn to channel it without needing to perform extra steps to gain access. Innate to everyone, was the common saying. It was the favored magic source of humans for this very reason, though Regis had heard of some humans going to great lengths to gain the ability to channel from the Ark and the Wild.
As a half-elf, the boy should have been born with access to the Wild from his elven bloodline. The Wild was a separate plane, one filled with a chaotic storm of primal magic that manifested as the fae. It was often said to have a mind of its own, but it was certainly less limited than the Pulse was. Regis himself had never particularly favored the Wild, disliking its unpredictability. He hadn¡¯t set out to gain access to it, either; it had simply come as a side effect of his travels in the plane.
The boy deflated almost immediately. ¡° ¡I can¡¯t use the Wild,¡± he said. Regis hummed. That was actually quite rare for a half-elf.
He peered more closely at the runes. The demon tapped one of the ones near the end of the most recent chain.
¡°Here. I believe this line should be curved.¡±
The boy scowled and snatched the paper away, looking affronted. As his eyes scanned the page, however, his brows furrowed with growing realization. Slowly, he set the paper back down and corrected the line.
¡°...I knew that.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sure you did,¡± Regis said appeasingly. ¡°I¡¯ve accidentally done the same myself.¡±
The boy looked up, frowning at the demon. ¡°You know runes?¡±
¡°Only a bit. I haven¡¯t studied the Pulse extensively, but I know the basics.¡± He nodded at the runes and held out his hand towards the pen. ¡°May I?¡±
The half-elf looked a bit suspicious, but Regis could tell that his curiosity was winning out. Slowly, he slid the paper and pen over, and the demon began sketching. The boy didn¡¯t say anything, but he could feel his gaze on him as he completed the symbol.
¡°This,¡± Regis explained once he was done, ¡°is often used in spells to indicate exclusions.¡± He tapped the lines on the paper. ¡°This part here is either curved left or right depending on the directionality of the spell.¡±
The boy nodded, eyes fixed on the page. Regis handed the pen and paper back. ¡°Is that helpful for your spell?¡±
The boy didn¡¯t respond right away, too busy absorbing the new rune, gaze darting between it and the string he was working on. Slowly, he nodded.
¡°Yeah.¡± A bit of giddiness entered his voice. ¡°Yeah, yeah I think this¡¯ll work!¡± He looked up at the demon. ¡°Thanks, uh¡¡± his voice trailed in question, and Regis smiled.
¡°Cyrus,¡± he said, adopting his dead vessel¡¯s name. It would be the easiest pseudonym to use for identification purposes.
¡°Cyrus,¡± the boy repeated. ¡°How¡¯d you know all this anyway?¡±
¡°I¡¯m a scholar,¡± Regis lied easily. He nodded to the atlas and at the shelf he¡¯d perused. ¡°I specialize in the war. I actually came to the Serpent Isles for research.¡±
The boy frowned. ¡°Why? There¡¯s not much out here.¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that. One of the demon king¡¯s former generals resides on this island, does he not?¡±
The half-elf¡¯s eyes lit up in recognition. There.
¡°Oh, you mean Markus!¡±
Regis¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained his amicable expression. ¡°Yes, do you know him? I was hoping to get an interview, but I couldn¡¯t find his address.¡±
The boy hesitated. ¡°He gives out potions sometimes for the locals,¡± he began, ¡°but he¡¯s really private. He doesn¡¯t really like talking about the war.¡±
¡°I understand that,¡± Regis said sympathetically. He sighed, adding a wistful lilt to it. ¡°Still, I would love to meet him. It¡¯s not everyday you¡¯re so close to a living hero.¡±
The half-elf glanced between Regis and the rune he¡¯d drawn, still a bit hesitant. The demon studied him closely, but it was clear to him that any lingering suspicion the boy might¡¯ve had of him had already disappeared. He was no longer a strange outsider but a helpful traveler, and as such, was not viewed as a possible threat.
Slowly, as predicted, the boy nodded. ¡°Yeah, I think he¡¯d be fine with that.¡± He turned to the atlas and flipped it open, turning the pages until he reached a map of the island. ¡°He lives over here. I can draw the route, if you want.¡±
Regis smiled. ¡°That would be wonderful, thank you.¡±
Regis exited the bookstore with the atlas, paid for with money he¡¯d found in Cyrus¡¯s home, and a new destination in mind. That had gone smoother than he¡¯d hoped. Satisfied, he turned to exit the town, but paused as the roar of the crowd reached his ears. He glanced over.
The square was still crowded, the mayor in the center with the guards circling him more closely than before. A few had unsheathed their swords and were raising them threateningly to anyone who dared come too close, but this only seemed to further incense the villagers.
¡°Please, please! I promise the Ministry is doing everything it can! Please just stay calm and listen to us!¡±
¡°Bullshit!¡± someone hollered. Regis quickly identified the voice as coming from a red-faced man who swayed a little where he stood. Drunk, he guessed.
¡°Quit being so high and mighty!¡± the man yelled. He hiccupped, but that didn¡¯t deter him. ¡°You¡¯re not telling us more about the System ¡®cause you¡¯re scared we¡¯ll use it against you!¡± He jabbed an accusing finger at the man. ¡°Well it¡¯s too late! ¡®Cause once we¡¯ve got ours, none of us¡¯re listening to you anymore!¡±
A few people cheered the man on, his words inciting another wave of yells. There would likely be a riot soon, Regis thought.
The demon turned to leave, but he paused at the last second. He studied the man consideringly. There was one more ability he hadn¡¯t had the opportunity to test yet.
Coming to a decision, he stepped closer, navigating through the crowd on the way towards the main street. Once he was close enough, he pretended to bump into the man.
He activated [Amplify Vice].
[Please select one vice: Pride, Wrath, Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Lust, Sloth]
Regis didn¡¯t hesitate to select the wrath option.
The effects were instantaneous. The man froze in place. His eyes widened, and then, all at once, his expression morphed into a snarl. He launched himself at the mayor, who yelped and stumbled backwards while the guards surged forward with weapons raised. Someone in the crowd screamed.
As the square erupted into panic, Regis slipped away, a silent figure moving through the frenzy.
Chapter Four - What Was and Never Will Be
Forest, The Serpent Isles - 8th day of the Sardonyx Moon, Year 24 AH
High Mage Markus rubbed his forehead and released a long suffering groan. In front of him was a letter written on smooth, creamy paper with no visible sender or address. It didn¡¯t need one; one glance at the magic signature confirmed who it was from.
¡°Fucking Archmages,¡± the man grumbled. He stood up, his chair squeaking on the floor behind him. Ever since he¡¯d first heard reports of the System popping up, he¡¯d been waiting for the Ministry to say something¡ªonly for the letter to finally come and amount to a fat load of nothing.
He didn¡¯t know why he¡¯d been expecting better. ¡°We¡¯re looking into it¡± was the default Ministry response to everything these days, no matter how world-altering the situation was. And this was definitely world-altering.
Markus glanced over at the magic circle he¡¯d set up in the corner of the room, glowing crystals placed at the edges of the inscribed runes. A soft, swirling blue light glowed in the center of the circle, but it was hazy. He¡¯d been trying to track the source of the System since he¡¯d first heard about it, but without access to it himself, he didn¡¯t have a lot to go on. Never mind that he¡¯d never been very good at tracking anyway and was missing half the components necessary for a more advanced version of the spell.
Huffing in frustration, the man strode over and plucked one of the crystals, immediately killing the glowing light. No point wasting magic on nothing; he could use that crystal in one of his potions. Markus moved to return the crystal to its designated place on his shelf of materials.
Really, he shouldn¡¯t be so worried about this. There was a reason he¡¯d turned down all the offers to join the Ministry, including the Hero¡¯s personal request. This was none of his business. He was here to play around with his potions and keep an eye on the prison. That was all.
And yet, he couldn¡¯t help the nagging unease that had risen ever since he¡¯d first caught wind of the System. Maybe it was because the anniversary was soon¡ªthe second decade since the war¡¯s end. That had to be it; he was just antsy with memories of the past. The events of the tenth anniversary didn¡¯t help, either. He couldn¡¯t help but expect the worst.
Markus grabbed the last crystal from the circle and carefully set it back. Through the open window, warm streaks of sunlight filtered into the cluttered room, the sun beginning to sink below the horizon. His home was a day¡¯s travel away from any neighboring towns, and that was how he liked it. He still got visits from nearby villagers, mostly with potion requests, but he hadn¡¯t seen anyone in the past week. He was thankful for it. Given how uneasy he was, he didn¡¯t think he could handle whatever absurd request he got next.
Of course, because the world was out to get him, the second he set the crystal down a knock rang from his front door. Markus remained still, hoping the villager would just go away. It was probably something dumb anyway, like a decoration for the festival or something.
The knock sounded again, even and measured, and Markus heaved a sigh. He dragged himself over to the front door and swung it open with more force than necessary, the ensuing slam echoing throughout his home. The person standing on the other side didn¡¯t blink.
It was a young man, probably somewhere in his mid twenties, with wavy dark hair, green eyes, and handsome features. He wore simple clothing consisting of a worn cloak and a large bag, suggesting that he was a traveler. He smiled pleasantly. Markus shot him an annoyed look.
¡°I¡¯m busy,¡± the mage said bluntly. ¡°If you need a potion, go ask Arnold.¡± Arnold was another mage who lived a few hours away from his house. Absolute mess of a man, but his potions passed the bare minimum level of acceptability.
¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± the man said calmly, ¡°but you¡¯re the only one I wish to speak to.¡±
Markus frowned. He¡¯d pegged the man as being from from one of the nearby villages, but no poor local talked like that. Now more suspicious, he gave the man another look and tried to sense a magic signature, but nothing came up. He racked his brain in an attempt to place his face, but he was sure he¡¯d never seen him before.
¡°Yeah?¡± Markus asked warily. ¡°And who¡¯re you supposed to be?¡±
The man chuckled. The sound sent a chill down the mage¡¯s spine.
No, it couldn¡¯t be. It was impossible, Markus told himself. He was dead. He¡¯d seen his corpse himself, had searched it for any traces of a lingering soul and found none.
And yet, even as he tried to rationalize things, a cold dread began to form in the pit of his stomach. That laugh was too similar¡ªsmooth and oddly soft and completely lacking any real emotion once you listened more closely. He knew it well. He¡¯d heard it in his nightmares for the past twenty years.
¡°I¡¯m hurt, Markus. It¡¯s true that I¡¯m occupying a vessel, but I would¡¯ve thought you¡¯d recognize me.¡±
The mage¡¯s entire body froze. He barely processed it as the man¡ªno, the demon¡ªmaneuvered around him and stepped into his home. Regis glanced around, calmly taking in the various magic instruments and ingredients strewn about with those fake green eyes.
Kill him, the thought rose unbidden. It¡¯s your only chance. Kill him before he kills you.
And yet, Markus couldn¡¯t get his body to move. All his senses screamed at him, his ears ringing and mind churning with old memories long buried but never truly forgotten. In the demon¡¯s presence, it felt as if no time had passed at all, like he was still that naive teenager foolish enough to have followed the demon king. To believe his lies.
He should¡¯ve known the second he¡¯d seen him. That gait, smooth as though he were gliding, the amicable but detached demeanor, the false politeness, the hollowness exuding from the man. No, his first mistake had been thinking it would ever be possible to truly kill him in the first place. How could he have missed it? How could he be so stupid?
¡°Markus?¡± Regis observed him assessingly, gaze unreadable. ¡°Do you need to sit down? You look rather pale.¡±
The sound of the demon¡¯s voice snapped the mage out of his thoughts. He whirled around and put as much distance between them as possible. One hand fumbled with the backup potion he kept on his belt, eyes never leaving Regis as he finally managed to yank it free. He raised it threateningly.
¡°Don¡¯t come any closer!¡±
Markus¡¯s arm shook, but he stood his ground. The liquid inside the bottle glowed softly, warmth emanating from it. He¡¯d never been very good at spontaneous casting, but he¡¯d spent years perfecting this recipe. That bottle had a vein¡¯s worth of mana stored in it, just waiting to be let out.
The whole time, Regis simply studied the mage, expression betraying nothing. He hadn¡¯t even twitched.
Markus¡¯s heart raced. The demon had clearly survived somehow, but did he have the same power as before? He¡¯d taken twenty years to appear again, was in a human vessel, and the mage couldn¡¯t sense any magic from him. But what if it was a trap and he was suppressing his magic on purpose to lie low? No, he was probably weakened. He had to be.
Regis took a step forward, and Markus flinched.
¡°I said stay back!¡±
¡°Please sit down, Markus,¡± the demon said calmly. He continued to step forward, completely ignoring the potion brandished in the mage¡¯s hand. ¡°I came here to talk. There is no cause for concern.¡±
The mage shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re lying. You want revenge.¡± His voice cracked, but he was too terrified to care.
Regis raised an eyebrow. ¡°Even if that were the case, do you think you would be able to stop me?¡±
¡°The Hero severed your magic! You¡¯re weakened!¡±
Regis¡¯s steps stilled. The air seemed to grow heavier, the winds outside the home howling. The candles flickered. Potion bottles and crystals began to rattle of their own accord, forming a cacophony of sounds surrounding them. Open book pages flipped. In front of Markus, the demon¡¯s eyes glowed a distinct violet, the same color that had haunted the man¡¯s nightmares.
¡°Do you believe that?¡± The shadows around the room lengthened, and Markus could barely hear anything above his own pounding heartbeat. ¡°Do you truly believe that?¡±
A hand tapped the human¡¯s shoulder.
Markus flinched violently. He blinked, and when his vision cleared, Regis was standing right in front of him. The pressure on his shoulder increased, and the man found himself pushed back onto the couch, legs weak. At some point he¡¯d dropped his potion, the bottle now lying uselessly on the ground a few feet away.
The room quieted. The candle flames returned to their usual height, and the books fell still. Regis smiled down at him.
¡°Now, shall we talk?¡±
Markus stared listlessly down at the table. Regis had gone and made tea of all things. The mage¡¯s cup sat untouched in the center of the tray. It had long since grown cold.
In contrast, the demon sipped from his own cup where he sat across from Markus, legs crossed and shoulders relaxed as if it were his own home. It might as well be, Markus thought dully. He¡¯d never feel safe here again. If I even survive.
It was clear Regis didn¡¯t view him as a threat at all, and he wasn¡¯t even entirely wrong. Markus was terrible at chants. Without his potions, he was nothing.
The demon finished his current sip and set the teacup down lightly on the table. ¡°How have you been?¡± he asked.
The mage determinedly did not look up from his cup, though the question itself made him want to laugh hysterically. Was the demon really asking him that? His thoughts must¡¯ve shown on his face, because Regis chuckled.
¡°Come now, we traveled together for a number of years. Is it so surprising that I would be curious to know how you¡¯re doing? That I might still think of you fondly?¡±
If Regis had said something like that during the first few years after he¡¯d joined up with him, he would¡¯ve been ecstatic. Maybe a part of him, the young teenager he¡¯d never fully gotten rid of, still was. His adult mind, however, could only feel dread. He knew better now.
¡°¡I thought you¡¯d be furious.¡±
Regis hummed. ¡°Tell me, Markus, have I ever been quick to anger?¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The man hesitated, finally daring to look up. ¡°Well, no, but¡ª¡±
¡°Then it stands to reason,¡± the demon interrupted smoothly, ¡°that this would remain true.¡± He smiled, and the expression looked so genuine that Markus almost believed it.
¡°I don¡¯t blame you for your decision, Markus. You are a human. It¡¯s not unusual that you would choose your fellow man, especially given your youth at the time. It is easy to be swayed in one direction or the other when the mind is young. Your choices were unfortunate, but understandable.¡±
Markus stared at the demon disbelievingly. Was he serious? What was the ulterior motive?
Regis took another sip of his tea and cocked his head. It felt wrong to see those mannerisms on some random human. He looked far too harmless like this. Markus wondered who the poor soul had been who¡¯d ended up as the demon¡¯s vessel.
¡°Now, I¡¯ll ask again. How have you been?¡±
Markus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ¡°Fine.¡± The word came out stilted, and he paused to swallow and clear his throat. ¡°I¡¯ve been here since the end of the war.¡± Since you died, was the unspoken implication.
Regis nodded. ¡°I see. And you¡¯re a high mage now, correct? That¡¯s quite impressive,¡± he praised.
¡±How do you know that?¡±
¡°Is it not natural for me to know the statuses of my generals?¡± Regis said. ¡°I was pleasantly surprised; more of you survived than I expected.¡±
The other generals. There was another topic Markus didn¡¯t like to think too much on. He¡¯d been the youngest of Regis¡¯s generals, and he¡¯d looked up to the others as role models. He couldn¡¯t help but get attached¡ªa lonely orphan desperate for any sense of ¡°family¡± he could find.
Of course, that childish dream had quickly shattered after the war. He hadn¡¯t spoken to any of the others in a long time, despite their similar positions. He would¡¯ve thought their shared experiences and defections to the Hero¡¯s side would¡¯ve bonded them closer, but it had instead hung like a cloud looming over every interaction. That wasn¡¯t even mentioning the ones who¡¯d stayed loyal to Regis.
¡°I am curious, however,¡± Regis continued, ¡°to know why you¡¯re on this island in particular. There are many other places to find solitude that are not quite so remote.¡±
Markus shifted uncomfortably. Speaking of strained relationships between former generals.
¡°...I¡¯m keeping an eye on Halcyon.¡± It was highly unlikely the angel would ever escape, but Markus was too paranoid. He¡¯d moved out to the Serpent Isles as soon as he¡¯d learned the prison¡¯s location, just in case. Then again, he thought bitterly, clearly he wasn¡¯t paranoid enough if he¡¯d been so completely blindsided by Regis¡¯s return.
¡°Hal is alive?¡±
Markus¡¯s eyes widened. The human mentally swore. Had the demon not known?
He broke out in a cold sweat. Regis¡¯s eyes were sharp, practically gleaming in the evening light, the weight of that gaze bearing down on him.
¡°He¡ªhe finished regenerating ten years ago,¡± the mage managed to stutter out. ¡°The Ministry wanted to do some experiments on him, but he got transferred to a prison here.¡±
¡°I see.¡± Regis looked thoughtful. ¡°Yes, I can imagine that. I¡¯m sure the Ministry was happy to have a test subject with unlimited regeneration. And I imagine they kept his survival a secret from the public to avoid mass panic.¡± Those fake green eyes landed on Markus, who stiffened in his seat. ¡°But I¡¯m surprised, Markus. With how often you spoke of compassion and bonds, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d approve of such a thing.¡±
The mage cringed. The demon wasn¡¯t entirely wrong; he had been a bit hesitant, but not nearly as much as he would¡¯ve been if it had been any other general being put through those tests. Even in the beginning, when he¡¯d been fully taken in by Regis¡¯s charisma and purported goals and practically worshipped the older generals, Halcyon had always unnerved him. Regis at least pretended to be capable of empathy. His second-in-command had never bothered.
Regis continued, sparing Markus from the need to give an answer.
¡°Where is this prison located?¡±
The mage tensed. Don¡¯t tell him. It was bad enough that the demon had survived. He didn¡¯t need anyone else on his side.
The candles in the room flickered. Markus heard the crystals on the shelf rattle, the pages of his open books turning rapidly of their own accord. In front of him, Regis hadn¡¯t lifted a finger, but that cool gaze was levelled on him. His eyes had shifted to violet. Markus swallowed.
¡° ¡the forest east of Barcombe.¡± The words came out quiet, defeated. The room stilled again.
¡°That¡¯s closer than I expected.¡± Regis looked pleased, but that couldn¡¯t be right. He wasn¡¯t capable of the emotion. ¡°Thank you, Markus.¡±
The demon rose from the couch and lightly dusted off his clothes. He glanced around, surveying the contents of the room. His eyes fell on the shelf of magic ingredients, and he approached it, picking up one of the crystals.
¡°This is a rather impressive collection,¡± he remarked. He turned the crystal around in his hands, then raised it up to the lingering sunlight trickling in through the window. It would be night soon. ¡°Would you mind if I took a few items for the road?¡±
It wasn¡¯t a real question, and the demon was already reaching for an herb before Markus could stiffly nod. Normally he flew into a rage every time someone dared touch a magic component without permission, but now he could only sit dully watching as Regis perused his collection. Even after twenty years, the demon still had the same effect on him. Ark, he was such a coward.
¡°Have you kept in touch with the otherworlder?¡± Regis asked conversationally as he picked up a small bottle of wyvern blood for inspection. His voice was perfectly casual, but Markus tensed. They¡¯d already been treading on dangerous territory, but this could quickly escalate if he wasn¡¯t careful. Regis was as incapable of true rage as he was of every other emotion, but his feelings towards the Hero were probably as close as he would ever get.
The mage¡¯s eyes landed on the potion bottle still on the floor from where he¡¯d dropped it earlier. It had finally come to rest against his desk leg, the liquid inside continuing to glow faintly. His heart raced. Maybe he could still fix things. Maybe there was a chance he hadn¡¯t screwed the world over with his cowardice. Eyeing the demon¡¯s turned back, Markus slowly rose from his seat and crept towards the bottle.
¡°Not really,¡± he said, attempting to keep the nervousness from his voice. ¡°He offered me a position in the Ministry, but I said no.¡±
Markus felt the floorboards begin to shift underneath him and quickly stepped elsewhere, narrowly avoiding a creak. He sucked in a breath, but Regis continued to rummage around the shelf, bottles clinking and drawers opening. The mage exhaled and continued forward.
¡°I see. You would¡¯ve done well in the Ministry. Certainly better than the otherworlder.¡±
Markus swallowed and carefully crouched down. Regis¡¯s back was still turned; he had to be looking through everything in the house at this point.
¡°Maybe.¡± Markus stretched an arm out towards the fallen potion. Just a little closer¡ª
A second before his fingers reached the glass, Regis turned around.
The mage froze in place, eyes wide as that green gaze fell on him. The demon had a bag in hand, now filled with the various items he¡¯d taken. Markus could practically hear his own heart beating in his ears as he broke out in a cold sweat. Regis studied him, expression unreadable, before finally raising an eyebrow.
¡°Surely it must be more comfortable in a chair than on the ground.¡±
Regis stepped forward, past the mage, and bent down. He picked up the potion and placed it in Markus¡¯s hand while the mage stared dumbly at him. He smiled.
¡°Thank you for the hospitality, but I must be going now. It was good to see you, Markus. I know you don¡¯t believe me, but I truly do mean that.¡±
Markus stared at the demon as he headed towards the door. Was he serious? Was this his chance? His fingers tightened around the potion, and he stamped down any lingering unease. He was a High Mage now, not a scared scrawny teenager. He wasn¡¯t going to let the demon king go without a fight. He had the potion in hand and the demon¡¯s guard was down. The second Regis reached the door, all he had to do was throw it.
¡°Oh, and Markus?¡±
The demon turned around at the last second. ¡°Do you recall when you suggested that I was in a weakened state?¡±
The mage nodded slowly, fingers still squeezing tightly around the potion hidden behind his back. Regis smiled.
¡°You were correct. I lied.¡±
The demon stepped outside and shut the door just as a splash sounded from behind him. Markus spun around, eyes landing on the shelf. There, Regis had placed a bowl swirling with a glowing mix of his potions. Directly above it was a bottle containing a bone reagent. It had been knocked over, its contents landing in the liquid below where a growing bubble rapidly expanded.
¡°No,¡± Markus whispered.
It was the last thing he said before the bubble burst and the entire house was consumed in flames.
[You have gained experience!]
[You have leveled up! 5 ¡ª> 11]
[The [Thaumaturgy] ability has leveled up! 1 ¡ª> 2]
[You have gained the [Fear] trait]
[You have gained the [Silence] ability]
[The [Deceiver (Common)] title has evolved into the [Cold-Blooded (Rare)] title]
[You have unlocked your STAT BLOCK]
[Strength +2, Agility +4, Mana +5, Will +7]
Regis hummed to himself as the notifications flashed across his vision. Behind him, the heat of the explosion lingered as a faint warmth on his back, and the ruined house still glowed faintly in the darkening sky. There was nothing left but a pile of charred wood and ash.
The demon carefully tied the bag of ingredients he¡¯d collected and stored them away in his larger pack. It was a shame for so many spell components to go to waste, but he¡¯d collected the essentials. The longer he stayed, the more likely Markus would¡¯ve become emboldened enough to attack. [Thaumaturgy] did little more than a few simple parlor tricks. Once the mage saw through the ability, he would¡¯ve realized how vulnerable the demon currently was. The added risk was not worth the few extra materials.
Regis continued forward deeper into the surrounding forest, where the thick canopy and shadows provided cover. The light of the explosion would¡¯ve been visible from a distance, and someone would soon come to investigate. He would be far away by the time that happened.
Once he was alone in the clearing, he studied his evolved title and new abilities more closely.
Name: Silence
Level: 1
Mana Cost: Medium
Cooldown: High
Description: Allows user to create a region of silence where no sound can enter or escape. Its size and duration is dependent on the amount of mana used and the ability¡¯s level.
That would be quite useful, Regis thought. He did prefer to be discrete when possible. He moved onto the next items.
[Fear], he learned, passively amplified the effectiveness of intimidation tactics while [Cold-Blooded] performed largely the same as [Deceiver], albeit purporting to be more effective in addition to granting a +5 bonus to will.
Speaking of will, now that he was done reviewing the new abilities, he took the opportunity to view his ¡°stat block,¡± as the system had referred to it. The numbers appeared in front of him with a thought.
Strength: 19
Agility: 27
Constitution: 16
Mana: 36 (+10)
Will: 42 (+25)
Regis recognized the bonuses from his titles, but the numbers themselves were more vague. He had no reference for what was considered average, though the distribution of stats did at least display areas of weakness.
The most curious aspect to him, however, were the mana and will stats. They weren¡¯t as self-explanatory as the others, though he did at least know that this ¡°mana¡± powered abilities. He was more interested in knowing how mana interacted with magic or if it was meant to be a replacement for it. And if it was indeed a quantified form of magic, which source did it draw from?
It was unfortunate that Markus hadn¡¯t owned the correct components for a trace spell. He could perform a smaller one, but that wouldn¡¯t be particularly useful given the evident scope of the System. Markus had been running a simple trace spell of his own, if the lingering magic circle he¡¯d seen on the floor was any indication, but it seemed like the mage hadn¡¯t had access to the system himself yet.
Regis willed the screen away and turned back in the direction of Markus¡¯s home. Plumes of smoke rose from it, rising above the tree line. In the darkness, their shadowy form appeared like a great serpent spiraling upwards towards the heavens.
It had been odd to see Markus again. Twenty years was nothing to a demon, but the same could not be said for humans. In his memory, the mage was a long-limbed teen, excitable, a bit shy, and talented with potions. The man in that house had seemed much older than a mere twenty years¡¯ difference. Weathered with exhaustion and a bone deep weariness. If not for those brief flashes of his younger self, he wouldn¡¯t have believed that they were the same person.
Regis closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh night air. He hadn¡¯t lied when he¡¯d said that the man¡¯s betrayal hadn¡¯t come as a surprise. None of them had. He hadn¡¯t chosen his generals based on loyalty, not when it was so fleeting and malleable. There could never be real trust there, certainly not the ¡°family¡± that a younger Markus had seemed so desperate for.
He opened his eyes again. He didn¡¯t know what reaction he¡¯d expected from his former general. The recognition had been there, of course, and he¡¯d seen the fear in his eyes, but there was precious little else. Fear and recognition. The response one would have to a monster of the past.
As Regis continued to watch the distant smoke slowly dissipate into the night sky, an odd feeling rose in chest.
He ignored it. This was likely another side effect of his vessel, just as those memory flashes in the bookstore had been. Regardless, sentimentality didn¡¯t suit him, and he had other matters to attend to. This, too, would pass.
Regis swung his bag over his shoulder and gazed up at the stars, noting his current position, before turning east towards Barcombe.
Most of his generals were traitors or dead, and he no longer had the power he¡¯d spent centuries building. He was starting anew in a world that had already moved past him.
But he did have one ally left.