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Rebellion, An Overlord Story[NPC OC/SI]

Reader mode
Not much going here except for more of Ramiel lowering opinion on E Rantel corruptible political landscape with some E Rantel campfire tales.
Continue on
Cheers!
 
Chapter 13 - Volčica i njeni žrtvi
  • Threadmarks
    • Volčica i njeni žrtvi​

    Traveling via caravan proved to be incredibly dull. And incredibly slow. A mere three days after leaving E-Rantel, we arrived in a city called Semnan, which is a moderately sized city, roughly half of E-Rantel's size and population. Apparently, it is a popular pit stop on the road to Arwintar.

    It was here that I decided I had had enough of the caravan.

    The constant creaking of the carriage wheels. The constant chatter and noises of prattling children, the constant questions from curious kids asking the same old questions, the constant grunts and noises of exertion from pathetic mortals trying to train up some sort of strength despite it all amounting to less than nothing at the end of the day. The constant pestering for magical lessons or sparring from the deluded couple. The only one worthy of respect was the guardsman Gotze, and he earned that respect by doing what these others could not. Keeping silent and not saying anything unless he actually had something to say.

    Spewing words forth from one's mouth like a torrential river does not make one worthy of being heard. It only makes their words less worthy. The more of something there is, the less valuable it is. Is it any surprise that when comparing a man who speaks few words, and a man who speaks many, the one who speaks few words is regarded as having more weight to his speech?

    But I digress.

    I had neither the time nor the patience to travel all the way to Arwintar via this carriage, when I could likely get there before the sun rose by myself.

    "I shall get off here. Do not wait for me tomorrow." I told the head merchant who was in the middle of a conversation. He was speaking to a guard about gossip or news going on in the city. I didn't really care which.

    He turned around and fiddled with his beard. "You're leaving? I thought you were heading to Arwintar. You did pay for the full trip, if I remember correctly."

    "You do remember correctly. Nevertheless, I will leave you here." I responded.

    He shrugged, before extending a hand to me. "In that case, I wish you safe travels and farewell. May we meet again."

    One handshake and goodbye later, I had slipped away from the caravan and made my way out of sight of the caravan and slipped out of the walls.

    From there, I made my way to a small hill overlooking the city, where I could ensure there were no bystanders or onlookers.

    Once there, it was time to finally let loose. I took off my cloak, unfurled my wings, and took flight through the night sky toward Arwintar.



    Flying is fun. The wind blowing through my hair, the beauty offered by the contrast of the heavens and the earth, the birds-eye view of the landscape. So many little lights, shining like silver from the sky and the pale-gold like light from the few fires I could see in my field of view, combined with the majestic radiance of the moon was breathtaking. The view was beautiful during the night, and I imagine it was just as beautiful during the day. I cannot wait for the day to come when I can move as I please when I please, but it's not yet here.

    The pure feeling of freedom I'm enjoying now, being untethered from all earthly complaints and worries, is something I think those below me cannot imagine. It is sad in a way.

    Born confused, scurrying from one task to the next, struggling to survive all the while in a world that seeks to end them at every misstep, and not even being able to trust those like you, and the reward for it all is war, plague, and death. It's actually tragic.

    Man's existence is tragic. It's all he's ever known.

    But does it have to be that way?

    I do not know.

    I do know this, however. The hour is coming soon when I will meet that 'Bloody Emperor' and his lackey Fluder, these architects of so much pain and suffering in E-Rantel, and see whether or not there is any grace in their hearts.



    The trip from Semnan to Arwintar is by carriage, assuming one travels anywhere between 10 or 12 hours per day, and regularly has stops and rests by night, would take 4 days. It took me a bit over an hour.

    I do not know the exact distances(though I would in time) between these cities, nor do I have an accurate map, but if the distance is a few hundred kilometers, then that is a great distance passed in a short time.

    Days by carriage. Hours by wings. At the speed of thought by teleportation magic.

    Just based on this simple fact I already know that Nazarick will roll over all opposition that bases its strength on pure numbers. What aid will it be to any armies that gather if you can go and sack their city, and move on to the next before they formulate a response? Even if outnumbered, a million to one, victory is inevitable, if a bit slow.

    As a matter of fact, I am quite certain that if Lord Ainz were to unleash a Floor Guardian, they could destroy a kingdom in a week.

    Conquest is another thing though. One kingdom is not like another.

    This much is obvious to me.

    Baharuth has flying knights. How about that? Who could have expected that?

    I can see them all the way from here. Knights mounted on flying griffins, at least those look like griffins. There's about a dozen of them flying around what seems to be the Imperial Palace, which is situated within a hexagonal like star fort, deep in the center of an absolutely massive and sprawling city, with various monuments and massive constructions.

    I am half tempted to summon a griffin of my own and unleash it on the flying guardsmen to show them what a griffin actually is, but that would be unconstructive.

    Nevertheless, Arwintar looks…impressive from here.

    I quickly cast a [Greater Invisibility] spell on myself to cloak myself from sight and approach the city closer and closer and take in the sight beneath me.

    Even now, after dark, people are moving to and fro, busy busy busy like bees, shops are open as are taverns and inns, and the streets are all lit by lampstands. As of now I can see that there is far more light on the streets than in E-Rantel.

    And speaking of the streets they are made of bricks and stones. It is quite fascinating. The sheer scale and cost of funding this project must have been quite high. I can even see different lanes where people can move about, either by horse or carriage, in only one direction. The architecture and layout of the city is quite advanced, compared to standards in E-Rantel. Raised sidewalks and fences bordering the streets are visible, clearly erected to ensure the safety of pedestrians. The public lighting, ever present, is probably due to magic, and implemented to ensure the safety of the city's populace during nighttime.

    There are also many visible magnificent buildings, besides the palace. A massive colosseum, reminiscent of the one in the 6th floor, grand palaces of different make, what appears to be some kind of university, or perhaps the Imperial Academy for Magic as it's properly called(probably). I can also see the distinctive style of the nation's religion, visible in the Temple of the Four Gods, fashioned in a similar style to the temple in E-Rantel, and also visible are various guilds and offices.

    Throughout the entire city, white stone is used for construction, and the bricks on the rooftops are mostly blue. It is a uniform color scheme, not at all out of sync, and it seems like the domes, the rooftops, the gardens, the walls, all of it combine to give this place a magnificent nature. It is obvious to the eye that the city was actually planned out to be one giant monument to the nation's might.

    Magic casters, armed knights atop horses and lightly armored pikemen, and flying cavaliers, all serving as guards.

    I am already much more impressed by this nation's security compared to E-Rantel. Against any regular force trying to invade, it would be terrifying, and I doubt someone regular could sneak into the city at will. Unfortunately for them however, there is a vast gulf in quality.

    Now… which places to visit first?



    That same night in E-Rantel…

    Madness. Madness and stupidity. That was the best way to describe the events of the past few days. The world's gone mad.

    The mayor of E-Rantel, Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmaier, was not having a good time.

    The recent raids in E-Rantel's territories, raids that he was not able to respond to due to the meddling of those traitors in the Noble faction, were the beginning. But as soon as that problem was fixed, new problems kept springing up.

    In his personal life, his daughter was complaining that her husband had recently started using Black Dust, that despicable drug that left men dumb and destitute. According to her, it had only been 'small doses' just to help him relax, but he knew where that road led, and he knew sooner or later he'd either have to attend a funeral or schedule one, depending on his son-in-law's disposition.

    There were also strange happenings in his home. Things getting moved from their place ever so slightly, powerful earthquakes happening in the middle of the day, and being felt only in his mansion and nowhere else in the city, his employees citing strange omens or signs from the gods.

    A bar fight that left a Mithril class adventurer without both his eyes, a group of adventurers chastised and paralyzed, before the culprit mysteriously vanished in thin air.

    The upcoming war with Baharuth that needed to be planned for, even now.

    And who knows what else was going on? And that's without even mentioning his health issues.

    He was stumped.

    "This job is going to kill me." He thought to himself. No one truly appreciated him, besides the King that is. Loyal administrators that didn't rob the people blind were rarer than unicorns in the Kingdom of Re-Estize. People didn't understand just how much he did for them on a day to day basis.

    The daily scheming, the politicking, the wrangling. Nobles, guild masters, adventurers… It was all so tiresome. He'd ask for something that would benefit the common man, and the first response he'd get is 'What's in it for me?'. How about I don't chop your head off!

    If only. Sadly, he was only a mayor, appointed to E-Rantel, a member of the minor nobility. E-Rantel was not his personal fief, nor would it be any noble lord's fief. King Rampossa did that part well enough at least. The king knew that if a noble lord had power in E-Rantel the same way a noble lord would have power in the other regions of the nation, it would only be too easy for them to be compromised, and to swear fealty to the Bloody Emperor. If such an event were to happen, and E-Rantel were to throw its gates open to the legions of Baharuth knights, Re-Estize would be wide open for invasion. Its wide plains and fertile farmlands would do little to stop armies.

    It was all too much. Just too many problems. He had capable cabinet members, but at the end of the day, he was just a man, mortal and flawed.

    He needed a break.

    Panasolei stood up, removing himself from the expensive leather chair, its wooden construction croaking under his massive weight. He got up and made his way to the window in his office, where he looked down upon E-Rantel, with the orange rays of the setting sun illuminating its many rooftops and walkways.

    Everything seemed to be in order. There were no fires, no swarms of undead, no looting bandits or riots. Thus far, another successful day, despite it being filled with headaches and problems.

    He had made it through it.

    Now it was time for his post-work rituals. He would have a nice bath, a change of clothes, and then have a nice meal. Perhaps he should skip the meal part, but he did deserve a treat?

    Choices, choices. All the same, the work for the day was done.

    After his bath, Panasolei had to change his clothes, and it was only when he looked into the mirror and saw the man staring back at him that he felt convicted, and a deep sense of shame.

    The mirror could speak only the truth, and he did not like what he saw.

    His face was like that of an obese bulldog, and his skin was best described as a mass of bloated and fatty oil. His hairline was nonexistent, the white hair on his scalp was so thin and rare that it made his head shine like a lamp. He had hair across his body, across the front and back, where he did not need it, and lacked it where he did. He was a disgusting shadow of a man, with not even a touching point compared to his former handsome looks. Even his manhood escaped his gaze. He could not see it, from above, or from the reflection in the mirror. It was hidden under rolls of fat.

    When did he become like this? Was it when he got married some 30 years ago? Was it when his wife died? Was it when his girl moved out and got married? Was it when he took this posting in E-Rantel?

    It all blurred together, and he found himself being more and more frustrated with each passing second. And that's without even mentioning the pains he felt.

    "I need a break. I need to get out of here."

    He declared to himself, and swiftly proceeded to dress himself, lavishly as he was supposed to as a nobleman. Once he did so, he called upon his guards with a shout, and commanded them to ready the carriage, for he wished to travel toward the Magician's Guild to talk to the Guildmaster there, who would perhaps have some medicine or cure for his aches and pains. The priests were for this matter useless, as they usually were in most things. Any healing from a priest would serve to only temporarily numb the pain in his joints for just a few minutes before they appeared again.

    Once he made it into his carriage, he and all his guards set out on the path toward the Magician's Guild.

    The night was still and quiet, at least for a city like E-Rantel. There weren't any major happenings, and crime was quite low in this city, and these two factors combined with the general respect afforded to him by the populace ensured that he could travel in a carriage day or night to wherever he needed to go without fear. Be it with many guards, few, or none, Panasolei knew that he was safe in his city.

    Unlike certain nobles who would likely be ambushed should they leave their estates without armed escort, for such was the hatred they cultivated in others by their gross injustice toward their people.

    The carriage was proceeding smoothly, until all of a sudden it slowed down.

    "What's going on?" Panasolei asked aloud, but no one responded. Feeling more than a bit enraged, he pushed the door open, his girth making his steps more than a bit unsure as he descended the stairs onto the cobblestone road.

    He looked around, and saw various men, women and children, being amazed, pointing with their fingers and gasping loudly. He followed their gazes until he saw something he never expected to see.

    What appeared to be a party of adventurers, all gathered around… a great and terrifying beast with fur white like snow. And atop the beast, mounted was a noble knight, clad all in black plate and armed with two greatswords on his back, and adorned with a crimson cape that fluttered in the wind behind him.

    "What in the name of the gods is going on in this city…" He muttered, but no one paid attention to his words.




    The streets of E-Rantel were lively as dusk approached, casting long shadows on the cobblestones. The Swords of Darkness, as well as Momon and his unnamed party that consisted of himself, Nabe and Lupu, were hailed as triumphant heroes by the populace.

    Little did they know he felt like he would die of embarrassment. Man was not meant to ride giant hamsters.

    The black-clad knight jumped off the hamster and petted it.

    "That was a success, I would say." Momon stated.

    Peter Mauk, the leader of the Swords of Darkness, a young handsome man with short blonde hair and an ever cheerful smile chuckled. "You can say that again. It went without a hitch. All thanks to you guys… In fact, I feel embarrassed taking money for this job. Feels like we didn't even do anything." He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

    "You didn't." The ice-cold raven-haired jade beauty Nabe stated flatly.

    "Nabe my dear, you're as beautiful as porcelain and just as cold! Why do you say such words, when they torture me inside!"

    Lukrut Volve, the shaggy-haired ranger, protested in vain at Nabe's words. He had tried so much these past few days to get just a scrap of affection, but it was all in vain. If you had asked him, it was unfair that Momon adventured with two beauties and hogged them to himself, whereas he couldn't even get the attention of even one of them. Nabe had ignored and insulted him, and Lupu had straight up laughed.


    "Lecherous lamprey, castrate yourself and save me the trouble." Nabe responded. Truly, she did not run out of insults.

    Nabe's comment did several things. It caused Lupu to laugh, and it caused Lukrut to suffer even more emotional damage.

    And as a bonus, Nabe also received some recompense in the form of a karate chop to the head, and the sound of Momon's armored gauntlet colliding with Nabe's skull caused Lupu to laugh even louder. This laugh however, was silenced, when Momon turned toward her, and she had no response to Momon's look of disappointment. "Cmooooooon… it was funny!" She pleaded, but received no response.


    "We'll split up here." Momon declared. "I'll head with Nabe to the Adventurer's Guild to get Hamsuke registered. You guys can accompany Nfirea to his pharmacy so he can drop off his herbs and we can complete this quest."

    "Sounds good." Dyne Woodwonder, a great bear of a man, a blonde-haired druid who seemed as likely to grow a flower as he was to eat a fish raw, replied affirmatively, speaking for the entire group.

    "Oh, and Lupu, go with them and keep them company." Momon added on.

    Lupu, who had taken on some sort of pose where she had been holding her clerical staff between her hands and pressed against the back of her neck in a classical position known as the 'shoulder yoke'.

    Lupu looked like she wanted to protest Momon's command, but that hesitation lasted for little more than a moment, and she obeyed, sliding into formation alongside Nfirea and the Swords of Darkness. They were still 'working' as they were supposed to escort Nfirea from his pharmacy toward the Great Forest of Tob and back, so she supposed it made sense.

    Nfirea Bareare, the young herbalist, led the group of adventurers towards his pharmacy, their pace brisk.

    "Did you hear about that guy who lost both his eyes in a bar fight?" Dyne Woodwonder, the druid, asked, his voice filled with concern. "Do you think a powerful cleric like Lupu could heal him? I've tried to heal a man who lost his eye, but it didn't work. The wound needs to be fresh, but perhaps for someone like you that's no problem?"

    Lupu glanced at Dyne with a serene smile. "Perhaaaps…" Her voice trailed off. "But it depends on the extent of the damage. Some wounds, even with the strongest healing magic, can be difficult to mend."

    Peter Mauk, the leader of the Swords of Darkness, nodded thoughtfully. "It's good to know we have someone as skilled as you with us, Lupu."

    "What tier of magic can you cast, Miss Lupu?" Ninya, the effeminate youth asked.

    Lupu turned toward the boy, who was really a girl masquerading as a boy(something Lupu could pick up quite easily with her enhanced sense of smell), until their noses almost touched. "Higher than you." She smiled and leaned away.

    With that non-answer serving as the de facto end to the conversation, the group resumed their walk in silence. They entered the pharmacy, and Peter noticed a strange expression on Lupu's face.

    "Is something wrong, Lupu?" The warrior asked, his voice filled with concern.

    "Nfirea, you share this pharmacy with your grandma, right?"

    "Yes. Why?"

    "You wouldn't happen to have any… younger people working with you? Perhaps a girlfriend or a cousin?"

    He shook his head. "No? Why do you ask?"

    She nodded slightly. "Just a feeling. Stay close."

    Suddenly, a dagger flew from the shadows, its destination being Ninya's forehead. However, it was caught in mid air by Lupu.

    "How rude." Lupu said before dropping the dagger. "You can come out now… your ambush has failed already, might as well give up, y'know?"

    Two figures emerged from practically out of nowhere, having been concealed by shadows and shelves all the while. They were both cloaked, but couldn't be more different. One of them was a manic looking woman with golden hair cut short and blood red eyes that spoke of violence, and the other was a withered and bald old man that looked perpetually constipated.

    "You failed, Clementine." The figure said in that raspy voice.

    "Shut up Khajiit, you bald idiot. I'm in the middle of something, can't ya see that?!"

    "Uhh… What's going on?" Nfirea asked from behind the buff body of Dyne Woodwonder, who would serve as a meatshield in these tight quarters.

    His question was ignored.

    "Well, well, what do we have here?" Clementine sneered, pretending like the previous embarrassment never even happened. "A group of little adventurers playing heroes?"

    Khajiit's voice was cold and calculating. "Hand over the boy, and we might let the rest of you live."

    "Pfft… hahaha. Okay, that was a good one. Now seriously, who are you clowns?" Lupu asked. Her carefree demeanor unnerved the two intruders while the rest of the members of the Swords of Darkness were unsure of victory.

    "For the last time. Give us the pharmacist." Khajiit declared, his beady black eyes narrowing.

    Peter stepped forward, sword drawn. "We won't let you take him!"

    Clementine's grin widened. "Oh, Big strong man, ready to die for his friends. This will be fun. What's your name, sweetie?"

    Lupu twirled her staff in her hands slightly. "You won't be facing him, sadly. I am in a violent mood and you look like the perfect stress relief toy!"

    "Oooh, I like you." Clementine replied, her tone dripping with equal parts joy and malice. "You're quite confident aren't you? So be it, I suppose I have time to play with you first."

    Lupu giggled. "I've been told I have a certain charm. Now, are we going to chat all day, or do you want to get to the fun part?"

    The battle erupted swiftly.

    "[Summon Undead 3rd: Vampire Bats]!" Khajiit intoned, as his spell caused a swarm of bats to erupt out of nowhere and attack the Swords of Darkness. In the tight places, they caused much confusion. Peter charged the necromancer in an attempt to rush him against the wall, but Khajiit evaded the blow and shot out a [Shadow Bolt] which burned Peter and caused him to nearly collapse.

    However, the leader of the Swords of Darkness' companions weren't idle, Dyne had taken to swatting the bats flying around with his mace, and Ninya had been using [Magic Arrow] to land guaranteed hits on them, with one charge of [Magic Arrow] being sufficient to down one bat. Sadly for them however, there were many bats. Even Nfirea had taken to participating in the battle. He was no warrior and had no courage, but when he saw the opportunity to aid, he took it, and his aid manifested in the form of defensive buffs applied on his teammates. He too was also having difficulty with the bats that pestered him so much.

    In the meanwhile however, the ranger Lukrut had managed to establish a line of sight between himself and the necromancer. He knocked his bow with 3 arrows, and used the Martial Art [Triple Shot] to shoot 3 arrows at once. The necromancer Khajiit managed to evade 2 of them, though the last one hit his bicep.

    The bald man's face frowned. "Tsk. [Chill Touch]." He said, as his next spell caused a floating spectral yet skeletal looking hand to appear and swipe at the ranger Lukrut. It clawed at his chest, and struck true. No flesh was rent as the spectral hand disappeared, but the ranger felt very much colder and very much closer to death after that spell.

    "Lukrut!" Nfirea shouted, and rushed toward his companion in a desperate attempt to save his life. He tried using a potion to heal his wounds, but the potion he had access to was blue, far weaker than the red 'God's Blood' potions that Sir Momon had access to.

    In the meanwhile, Lupu's fight against Clementine had dragged on. It seemed that neither of them were using their full strength.

    "Oh, you're good," Clementine hissed, her eyes narrowing. "But not good enough."

    Lupu laughed, her strikes becoming faster and more precise. "I could say the same about you. Why don't we see who's right?" She kicked Clementine away, before spinning the staff and stabbing it into the pharmacy's cold stone floor tiles. "[Holy Nova]!"

    The spell by Lupu was a critical hit. Not only did it heal all her allies, but it evaporated the vampire bats and singed both Clementine and Khajiit to the point that they looked visibly disturbed by the amount of power exhibited by a single spell.

    "What the…That's powerful magic! How are you capable of such a thing!?" Clementine shouted angrily, dusting herself off and jumping back on her feet.


    "Teehee." Was Lupu's only response.

    It infuriated both Clementine and Khajiit.

    Khajiit, still singed and clearly wounded, retrieved a black orb from some hidden compartment within his robes, held it aloft and shouted. The orb pulsed and writhed with shadowy energies. "I'm done playing games with you fools! [Wave of Pain]!" Khajiit's spell produced what appeared to be a crimson colored wave of energy that went out from him and passed over all the members of the Swords of Darkness. Such was its power that it caused them all to collapse and begin to claw at their ears and their heads, and they rolled on the ground, agony overtaking every part of their bodies.

    As this was happening, Clementine's movements became a blur as she activated her Martial Arts, enhancing her swiftness and power. She tried to leap off the wall, but all her moves were anticipated, as Lupu's staff met her mid-air. The impact sent her crashing to the ground, but she rolled and sprung back up, daggers poised.

    Khajiit raised his staff and summoned a bunch of generic undead minions, skeletons armed with swords, useful in the cramped quarters. They didn't last long nor prove themselves useful. In the brief moment between Clementine managing to pick herself from the ground and resuming her attack, Lupu turned around and cast her own spell. Rings of golden light flew out from her staff, cutting through all the undead with ease, and one of them even managed to nearly behead Khajiit right then and there, though he ducked at the last moment and survived.

    Clementine lunged yet with incredible speed, her daggers aimed for Lupu's exposed heart. It countered with another burst of the [Holy Nova] spell, the magic healing her allies and relieving some of their pain as the light seared Clementine's skin and forced her back. She screamed in pain, her eyes filled with fury.

    "Why won't you die?" she snarled, all former vestiges of beauty having long since faded, blood and burns and bruises covering every bit of her body, activating another Martial Art to enhance her reflexes. It was in vain.

    Lupu smiled, unfazed. "Because I'm having too much fun."

    With a powerful swing, she crushed her collarbone, the rogue's eyes widening in shock and pain. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

    "You… how…?"

    Lupu leaned down, her amber colored eyes containing nothing but pure joy at Clementine's suffering, and her voice was playful yet cold. "Left you breathless, didn't I? Shh… don't worry, it happens."

    Khajiit, seeing his efforts failing, began casting 'Dimensional Move', his desperation evident. But he never got the chance to even finish saying the words. Like a she-wolf lunging at her prey's neck, Lupu pounced on him, interrupting the spell. They rolled together, and in a swift and elegant move, she threw him headfirst against the wall. The impact was sickening, and Khajiit's bald head cracked like an egg, his lifeless body slumping to the ground.

    The undead monstrosities crumbled without Khajiit's control, leaving the group in tense silence. Breathing heavily, I lowered my weapon, my eyes scanning the group.

    "Is everyone alright?" Lupu asked her group. Slowly, and with more pain than they thought their bodies were capable of bearing, they all got up slowly.

    Peter picked up his sword from the floor and proceeded to sheathe it. He nodded. "Thanks to you, Lupu. We wouldn't have made it without your help."

    Nfirea stepped forward, gratitude and relief evident on his face. "Thank you, Lupu. You saved us all."

    "Yeah… wonder what would've happened if we faced those two without backup." Ninya stated with evident fear in her voice.

    "We'd be dead. That's what would have happened." Dyne Woodwonder, the druid, stated without sugarcoating it at all. In the close quarters, a large man with no finesse, wielding a clumsy weapon that needed space to be wielded properly, and without access to nature, he was out of his element, and couldn't exercise his full abilities.

    Not that it mattered at the end of the day. The necromancer was dead, and the assassin woman…


    "Is she dead?" The ranger Lukrut asked.

    "Huh? Oh, you mean her?" Lupu replied, then turned around and looked at Clementine's battered and broken body. "Nah. She probably wishes she was dead though."

    "Damn… I have no luck at all." Lukrut said. When no one asked him what he meant, he elaborated.

    "I've met three hot chicks in the past three days. They're all hot, they're all stronger than me. One of them tried to kill me, and the other nearly killed her. It's like… where's the part where I rescue the damsel in distress? The stories aren't supposed to go like this, y'know?" He said, half-joking, half-serious, all broken in his soul.

    All his companions save one stared at him before laughing openly.

    "Idiot!" Peter laughed.

    "That's what you're worrying about?" Nfirea commented.

    "Airheaded fool…" Dyne added on while ruffling the young man's hair.

    Lupu chuckled just as well. "Well… keep trying, I'm sure it'll work sometime this century!"

    Ninya meanwhile, looked far more serious, and far more despondent.

    "Guys… let's bring this woman back to the Guild. After that, I think I'm done with this whole adventurer thing…"

    Lupu raised her eyebrow, before picking up Clementine from the floor like one would pick up a dirty rag. "Let's go then. Sir Momon will want to talk to us about what just happened."

    The group, deadly serious now, nodded affirmatively. They all prepared to leave and go back to the Guild, when several thoughts crossed Nfirea's mind.

    "How the hell am I going to pay for repairs? Why is Miss Lupu so strong? And what did that bald man want with me?"
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 14 - Haraj-e Elysi
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    • Haraj-e Elysi​


    The grandeur of the Grand Arena enveloped the roaring crowd, every seat filled with eager spectators awaiting the spectacle about to unfold, but I still had the best seat in the house. In the center of the arena, the mighty champion Go Gin, a giant by might and stature, undefeated, clad in ugly bronze-colored full plate armor that had him covered from head to toe and wielding a formidable and crude giant club, stood with an air of invincibility. Opposite him, a lesser-known challenger, a nameless warrior in light leather armor that would offer almost no protection against the obscenely sized metal club, nervously gripped a spear, his eyes darting around the imposing amphitheater.

    As the tension mounted, the announcer's voice boomed across the arena, amplified by the acoustics of the ancient structure:

    "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the grandest stage in all of Arwintar, nay, the grandest stage in the entire Empire! Today, we witness a clash of titans! Or rather, a clash of man against a titan! In this corner, the undefeated champion, the scourge of many foes, the master of the battlefield - Go Gin!"

    The crowd erupted in thunderous applause and cheers, acknowledging the renowned warrior who had bested countless opponents in the past.

    "And in this corner, a brave soul who dares to challenge the unbeatable! A man of courage and determination, ready to face the ultimate test in the sands of the Imperial Arena!"

    The announcer's words were met with a mix of supportive murmurs and curious whispers from the audience, unsure of what to expect from the underdog who had stepped into the lion's den.

    "Will Go Gin continue his reign of dominance, or will destiny favor the bold and the brave? Let the combat commence!"

    With a dramatic flourish of his arm, the announcer signaled the start of the duel. The crowd's anticipation reached a crescendo as the combatants squared off, the roar of men expecting blood shed echoing through the ancient stone walls.

    Personally, I felt that these people treated life like a game, and in every game, you eventually lose.

    All the same…

    The smaller combatant, who could simply be referred to as 'The man' muttered something, his lips moving barely seen beneath his half-helm, that could not be heard by man or woman in the Arena, for so loud was the noise of the crowd. However, when his body glowed, it was obvious what he had done. He had invoked a Martial Art, that magic of the warriors of old, meant to help him in this battle. To those experienced in combat, they would estimate that the warrior enhanced his speed, so that he might dart to and fro from his foe.

    The spearman shot off quickly, his sandals kicking up dust in the air behind him. The giant Go Gin was eagerly awaiting his foe, who was rushing him. The spearman was trying to end the fight quickly, perhaps via a critical hit.

    But it was unlikely. Against a heavily armored foe, blunt force is best, or wrestling your foe to the ground and then using something very sharp and pointy to stab at the weak points in the armor from close range, usually this would be a rondel dagger. This is the opinion of every knight in Baharuth, who were members of the single greatest heavy infantry corps across all human lands.

    The giant Go Gin seemed to know this as well, as when the spearman closed rank and thrust his spear into Go Gin's kneecap, it simply 'clanged' and did no visible damage. The giant tried retaliating by kicking the man, but with a flip, the man jumped over the giant's kick.

    The end result was that the giant was with his back turned while the man was trying to get up. Seeing an opportunity, the man tensed up, readying himself to pounce. However, the man hesitated at the last moment.

    This was a wise move, as Go Gin had followed up the kick by spinning counterclockwise, completing a full rotation, with his face turned toward his opponent while his giant arm was aiming that club of his right at his opponent, or rather where his opponent would have been had he taken the bait.

    The man jumped back, and took a moment to compose himself. There was a brief pause in the fighting. The calm before the storm, if you will, but it was clear to all this was still the probing stage, the warm-up. The man had to play it perfectly, to wear out his opponent and poke and prod him, and he could afford no mistake, whereas a single errant blow would do devastating damage, perhaps killing him outright if it struck true.

    What compelled this man to come to this place and risk his life before strangers that would praise him today and forget him tomorrow?

    In the early morning light, the Grand Arena was glistening like a gem from the sunlight. But the match never took place early in the morning. It took time for people to travel to the Arena, to buy tickets, to buy food, to have a pre-match conversation with their friends and acquaintances, to bet on the winners and losers and if a soul would leave their mortal coil that day. The citizens of Arwintar would do all this, then they would take their seats and prepare for the spectacle.

    This occurred every three to four days during the 'season of blood' which lasted for roughly three months before the annual declaration of war by the Emperor on Re-Estize. After the war was done, there would be a roughly three month long break in Arena festivities, before the schedule shifted to one day of spectacle every week. This would continue until the snows came,where there was a break again of one month, then the spectacle would begin again, once a week, and would continue until summer.

    A full schedule, week for week, month for month, year for year, of blood and sand, all for the entertainment of the plebs, and the enrichment of the patricians.

    Granted, not every day in the Arena was a simple one vs one fight. Sometimes one man, an established champion, would face many, sometimes it would be two massive teams brawling against each other in a giant melee. Other times there were series of duels, in a knock-out format, like a tournament, and there were also free-for-alls in which the last-man-standing took the grand prize.

    But more than that, there were even days when in the Arena ancient battles were recreated, with the historical winners vs the historical losers, divided into teams. Sometimes these fights would be man vs man, sometimes man vs beast, sometimes man vs monsters. Beasts and monsters would be captured from the fringes of the Empire and brought to Arwintar for the express purpose of dying for man's amusement.

    But it was not all blood. Sometimes there were theatrical plays and chariot races, which tended to have far less blood. Not no blood, simply far less.

    The Grand Arena was like a stomach constantly devouring, so never-ending was its greed and gluttony. Men, beasts, gold, steel, paper, it didn't discriminate.


    To many citizens it was the highlight of their day, yet to many it was also something egal. They had better worries. Yet the population of Arwintar was so massive that the Arena was almost always packed.

    Earlier this morning, all throughout the streets of the city, numerous criers were promoting the match in the Arena. They cited it as a 'great spectacle' and that every red-blooded citizen should endeavor to watch the mighty Go Gin at least once in their lives, but if they watch him once they will want to watch him again. This giant, this undefeated warrior, this freak of nature who was likely not human. This giant, who may be some alchemical freak of nature, or an overgrown beastman, or a troll, had the far greater odds of victory. If an observer mused that he could lift a grown horse with one hand, they would not be mistaken. They lavished heaps of praise on him, and many warriors and young boys idolized him.

    And against him, stood a man. Who had no glory, no acclaim, no name. Just a spear.
    The man started the fight, moving quickly, casting his net with precision, aiming to ensnare the giant and gain an advantage. Perhaps he hoped his mobility might be an advantage, or that he could trip the giant and pierce him with his spear while the giant was immobilized.

    The net billowed through the air, but Go Gin sidestepped with surprising agility for his size, avoiding the entanglement.

    So much for that tactic.

    Nonetheless, the man was not discouraged. He rushed forward and began to strike yet again, knowing that he couldn't afford another mistake. He danced around Go Gin, probing for weaknesses, looking for any opening he could exploit. Each strike he made with his spear was a risk, as he opened himself up to a counterattack.

    Seeing that his spear lacked penetrating power, he invoked another Martial Art, which caused his spear to glow with faint blue light.

    Go Gin at one point let out a giant roar that made the very pillars of the Arena tremble, and made the man paralyzed with fear. The giant used the fact that the man finally stopped leaping from place to place to swing his club in a giant downward arc, but at the last moment, the man rolled to the side toward his net, and in a fluid motion, picked it up and threw it at the giant's face, obscuring his vision. Then, he attacked.

    The next time he tried to pierce Go Gin, he succeeded, and managed to lodge his spear behind the giant's knee, but the man's victory was short lived. Neither scream nor shout could be heard from the giant, and it seemed based on the giant's lack of reaction, it would take a thousand more of these thrusts to his limbs to end the beast.

    In the brief second the man spent to dislodge the spear from Go Gin's body, he made a miscalculation about how fast the giant was. That move to retrieve his weapon simply opened himself up to being smacked by the armored giant's mailed fist, which sent him flying several feet backwards.

    Worst of all, the spear had remained lodged in the giant's body.

    The crowd reacted to both spear and fist with loud approval.

    After a few seconds passed, the man came to his senses yet again, and quickly stood up. His legs were shaking, his eyesight was dizzy, his ears were ringing, his hands were sweaty and he had difficulty breathing, likely due to broken ribs. Go Gin's blow had taken a lot out of him, yet he was still alive.

    The man used another Martial Art, evident by his body glowing in a leafy green color for a few seconds, and afterwards he could stand more confidently.


    There was a brief moment of respite from the combat that the man used to take off his helmet. He wiped his brow, and when he looked at his hand, he saw blood upon it. Blood pouring from a wound on his head, and blood from the beast he had just now pierced.

    The blood and sand mixed together. The land was fertile with the smell of death.

    "That was well-struck." The giant said as he took the spear out of his body, the blood spewing forth like a river but slowing more and more each second until it ceased to flow in a matter of a dozen heartbeats.

    "I didn't think you talked." The man replied.

    "We warriors talk with our weapons, do we not?" The giant rebutted.

    The man chuckled. "True enough."

    Go gin threw the spear toward the man's feet, and it clanged harmlessly off the dirt. The man picked it up, but was nonetheless confused. A warrior's attempt at honor, a rule of the arena, or perhaps mercy to a dying man?

    "Alas, you are not the one I seek."

    "The one you seek? Who do you seek?" The man asked, confused.

    "A worthy challenger. You are not the one who can defeat. Now, it is time to finish this. Do you wish to surrender, or die with your weapon in hand? I am fine with either." The giant spoke, his voice echoing through the openings in his bronze-colored horned helmet.

    The man seemed put off by the question, and took his time to answer.

    At that moment of silence, the roaring of the crowd also quieted down, awaiting the inevitable choice of the man. Eternal life through glory, or temporary life through flesh?

    They could not hear his words, this conversation between competitors.

    But I could. I was but a mere 30 feet above them, looking down on their fight, unseen by everyone in the arena, concealed by [Greater Invisibility], and I could hear everything. I was an unknown third party in their conversation, an impartial observer, a chronicler of a man's potential final moments.

    The man did not answer with words.

    He gritted his teeth against the pain, focusing on the task at hand. He knew he couldn't match Go Gin's strength, but he could be faster, more agile. At least, that was what he was hoping.

    The man began to rush toward the giant and let out a loud cry that reached the very heavens. With a desperate gamble, the man feinted left and then lunged right, thrusting his spear at the gaps in Go Gin's armor. Go Gin dodged the first two piercing strikes, but it seemed that he would not dodged the third.


    Yet again however, the giant displayed surprising quickness. The spear was accurate in that it was aiming right at the gap in Go Gin's visor and would have likely pierced through his eye, but it did not find its target. In the last moment, Go Gin had ducked, and the spear went right in the gap between the horns on his helmet.

    At that moment, realization set in. The man's effort was in vain.

    With a furious bellow, Go Gin swung his club horizontally one final time, a blow that landed with devastating force against the man's rib cage. A sickening crunch could be heard from the man, and roars of cheer from the crowd as the man flew off more than two dozen feet to the side.

    Thus ended the life of this unknown combatant. A man that tried to fight a giant for some reason only he knew. Gold, glory, it matters not.

    His body was dragged off unceremoniously out of the arena.

    "Ladies and gentlemen! What a spectacle we have just witnessed! Another victory for our incredible giant Go Gin! Another challenger vanquished, yet also one who obtained eternal glory in the Arena! It was a hard-fought battle, yet in the end, the contest was never in doubt!" The crowd roared ever more loudly.

    "Now, we will take a quick break, and in half an hour, the Twins, those brothers of sword and board, shall be facing off against two beastmen brought here from the far beyond the borders of the Empire, from those savage Abelion Hills that contain all manner of monstrosities!"

    Half an hour break between this fight and the next. The man's body will still be warm.





    A few hours later…


    The fight in the Arena had left a bad taste in my mouth. I consider it a bad mark against this city's purity. Yes, the man chose to die instead of surrender, but I do wonder what made him decide to even fight in the first place. What made him face death head on like that? Perhaps I should ask him sometime.

    Or perhaps not.

    As for the moment, I'll continue on my walk through the city. I had taken a moment to acquire Baharuth currency through the private vaults of whichever nameless fool ran the Grand Arena. It was some bald man with a silly mustache and small beady eyes that made him look like a confused gerbil. It was quite easy. Just walked into the office, cast a [Sleep] spell on him, and took what I needed.

    Do I feel bad about it? About taking gold earned by blood? No. The man's belly was so round he could do with a bit of poverty. And besides, I need new clothes. The ones I bought in E-Rantel are too raggedy for my tastes, and the ones I own in my own right are too resplendent. The clothes I was wearing for now would serve for now, but I wanted a new set before I went to check out the Magic Academy.

    I hadn't really planned things out yet… I was sort of making things up as I went along, but I was certain over time I would get the hang of things. And besides, isn't all exploring 'making it up as you went along'?

    The people of Arwintar were generally cheerful and seemed to have optimism for the future. Mothers were walking around with their daughters, sons were learning from their fathers, goods were transported by carriage regularly. The city felt alive, to put it simply.

    I saw what appeared to be a married couple, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a brown-haired young woman walking with their tiny yet adorable daughter. The girl was walking between the two of them while holding both her mother and her father's arms. I approached them.

    "Hello. Do you have a minute?"

    They turned to the side toward me and the girl looked up at me with curiosity, her hazel-colored eyes glowing because of the sunlight's refraction. It was quite a pretty sight.

    "Yes?" The man answered in one word.

    "I'm new to this city. I was looking for directions."

    "Oh? Oh, are you from E-Rantel? We get plenty of visitors from there." The woman asked me.

    "In a sense."

    "What do you need?" Said the man while patting his daughter's head.

    "I'm looking for some place to buy clothes. I don't want low-quality fabrics."

    "Well, we can't have that now, can we!" The woman lit up with a smile on her face. I had noticed that both her husband and child were wearing nice clothes, which was one of the reasons I decided to approach them in particular, the other being they looked approachable. Granted, that could be said for everyone in Arwintar, as not only had I seen no beggars so far or any ruined districts unlike in E-Rantel, but I also saw that the general level of affluence was higher here.

    "What kind of clothes do you need? Clothes for work, for travel, for formal events? There's quite a selection, you know." She spoke again.

    "Something for everyday usage that is comfortable and still looks respectable." I replied.

    "There's Royal Regalia, over on Mark Hamildan Street." The man offered, and the girl, no more than a toddler, nodded cutely, as if to affirm her father's words.

    "They're no good dearie."

    "No? Why? My cousin buys from them."

    "Well, the store owner committed adultery on his wife with a slave girl."

    I blanked. I blinked. Adultery? Slave girl?

    The man was confused. "How is that relevant? The man has good wares."

    "I won't let our money go to support someone like that. It's ungodly."

    "Right…" The man scratched the back of his head.

    "Mommy? What's adatai?" The girl asked. We all turned toward her with confusion on all our faces, myself most of all. They keep slaves here?

    "Damn you woman, now look what we gotta deal with." The man whispered/shouted at his wife. It was a silent shout, the type people do in public when they don't want to attract attention.

    "You people have slaves?" I blurted out.

    The woman looked toward me stupidly. "We don't. They're too expensive." She replied, then her husband took both her and their child by their hands and hastily excused himself. "Sorry, but we have to go. Good luck finding clothes." He said, and scurried off.

    I was left standing in the middle of the street for what felt like minutes.

    It was only the shouts of a carriage driver that eventually struck me out of my thoughts.





    Meanwhile, in the Imperial Magic Academy…


    Fluder Paradyne walked through the hallowed halls of the Imperial Magic Academy, his soft, loose white robe flowing gracefully around him. The necklace of crystal orbs clinked softly with each step, while his numerous magical rings glimmered in the dim light. Despite his short stature, he carried himself with the dignity of a master, his magnificent white beard and snow-white hair giving him an air of timeless wisdom. His eyes, full of light and knowledge, scanned the familiar surroundings with a mixture of nostalgia and purpose. But there was more than wisdom there. There was hunger. There was ambition. And there was also hatred.

    "Everything handed to them on a platter, and yet all they do is fail," Fluder thought bitterly. "Or perhaps that is why they fail? Because they have teachers, because they live in safety, because they've never really known struggle."

    Born in Belmous Village, which at the time of Fluder's birth was home to some 300-ish houses, yet is now home to no more than bones in the dirt and the grass growing above them, Fluder was old. Over 200 years old, Fluder was nothing more than a young lad fresh out of puberty, a boy really, a man only in name, when the Demon God of Insects swept through the plains of his home and consumed everything until there was nothing left living there. Fluder, a young lad, lost and alone, picked up some skills in magic quickly from various teachers, but was too weak at the time to properly get revenge himself or to gaze into the abyss of the arcane properly. He was at that time, a worm blessed to be able to walk on two feet, yet his quick growth caused him to become overconfident. He thought he could walk into the Floating City and learn its mysteries, but he was denied.

    There would be no shortcut for him. No grand tome revealing hidden spells known only to him, no teacher bestowing ancient wisdom, no magic item that would instantly give him knowledge. It was grueling, annoying, thankless, and slow. To grow in wisdom and knowledge, to build this Academy, to search for the truth. And he had to do it alone. Yet, these kids had it all handed to them, and were still too slow. Sophie, one of his brightest, was only of the 4th tier, and was admittedly a bit of a pervert. Arche, also a genius, dropped out due to family issues that he offered to solve but she stubbornly refused. Karl also had incredible potential to match or even surpass him, yet the lad ended up getting killed in a stupid experiment where he blew himself up. Fluder had 30 Chosen disciples, and not one of them was fit to inherit. It was disappointing.

    As he wandered deeper into the academy, the sound of bubbling and soft murmuring caught his attention. Curious, Fluder followed the noise to one of the lesser-used research rooms. Peering inside, he saw Sophie, one of his most promising students, surrounded by an assortment of jars and flasks containing various types of slimes. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she scribbled notes and observed the creatures with meticulous care.

    Sophie was a striking figure, a woman with heterochromia eyes—her left eye a vivid blood red, while her right eye was a soft pink. Her fair complexion contrasted sharply with her dark purple hair, which fell in waves around her face. A scar over her left eye, partially concealed by a gold-rimmed monocle, added an air of mystery and danger to her appearance. She wore a white jacket with a hood and an open chest top that revealed her bosom, while a belt at her waist carried various items, including test tubes and other instruments. She exuded confidence, with a hint of a crazed and perverted edge, believing that humanity could advance through her research on monsters.

    "Sophie," Fluder called softly, stepping into the room. His voice, though gentle, carried the weight of authority and wisdom.

    Startled, Sophie looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. "Master Fluder! I didn't expect to see you here."

    Fluder offered her a kind smile, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "I could say the same, my dear. What brings you to this secluded corner of the academy?"

    Sophie quickly composed herself, her initial surprise giving way to enthusiasm. "I've been researching slimes, Master. Their regenerative properties and potential uses in alchemy are fascinating. I believe there's much we can learn from them."

    Fluder approached the table, examining the various specimens with interest. "Slimes, you say? An intriguing choice of study. What have you discovered so far?"

    Sophie launched into an explanation, detailing her experiments and findings. As she spoke, Fluder listened intently, nodding occasionally and asking insightful questions. Despite his vast knowledge, he found himself genuinely impressed by her dedication and the progress she had made.

    "You've done remarkable work, Sophie," Fluder said when she finished. "Your findings could indeed open new avenues in both alchemy and healing magic."

    Sophie's face lit up with pride and gratitude. "Thank you, Master. Your encouragement means a great deal to me."

    Fluder placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light but reassuring. "Remember, the pursuit of knowledge is a noble endeavor, but it must always be tempered with wisdom and caution. Continue your research, but do not lose sight of the greater picture."

    The greater picture of course was a useful term that he often used when dealing with the lesser-minded ones. It was a term he taught his favored pupil, the young Jircniv, how to use as well. It was a term used by both teachers and emperors.

    "Devote yourself to the greater good." These words would often be spoken, but would two people agree that the same thing is the greater good? To Fluder, the greater good was simple. Knowledge of magic. Everything that had to be sacrificed for that knowledge was a worthy sacrifice.

    Sophie nodded earnestly. "I understand, Master. I will heed your advice."

    Fluder gave her a final, approving nod before turning to leave. As he walked away, he couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Sophie and her peers had so much potential, so many years ahead of them to explore the depths of magic that he longed to see. Yet, he also felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps through their discoveries, he too might glimpse the abyss of magic he so desperately sought.

    With renewed determination, Fluder continued his walk through the academy, the light of wisdom still shining brightly in his eyes. He took a moment to glance out the window toward the center of Arwintar, and activated the special ability he had that he could use through his eyes.

    His eyes were blessed with a Talent, but not by birth. They belonged to another who no longer had need of them and could not use them. With those eyes that Fluder had personally and gently extracted before planting them within his own skull, Fluder could see the innate magical capacity of items and people. He could see just how much mana someone or something contained. This allowed him to check at a glance who had potential to be his student, who was growing and who was stagnating.

    It developed into a bit of a skill. At a glance he could tell at what level of Tier Magic someone was. The higher the tier, the brighter the glow they emitted. Most people were like a candle, his students were like a torch, and the most gifted people he saw were like a bonfire.

    He continued to stare, completely struck speechless.

    His wrinkled fingers rubbed at his eyes again and again, all to ensure he was not mistaken.

    Why was there a forest fire reaching up to the very heavens in his very own city? What was going on? Who was this, who contained such magical power, that he almost felt blinded by it? Was there an attack on the city? No, surely not, he would have heard by now.

    Fluder felt fear, excitement, and hope, for the first time in a long time.



    I had spent quite the pretty penny at a place called 'Royal Regalia' which fit the name quite properly. A long, flowing white cloak that draped over my shoulders and fell to the ground, with intricate designs and patterns on it that added a touch of elegance and mystique to the cloak, which also had a hood, was an instant hit for me.

    Beneath it, somewhat hidden, I wore a purple tunic with subtle yet intricate patterns, of a very high quality, adorned with gold at the collar and cuffs, and also black pants that were somewhat bare-bones compared to the tunic and cloak, yet of still high quality. I completed the set with black leather gloves that went up to my forearms, a brown leather belt tied around my waist and a pair of practical and sturdy yet comfortable black boots.

    All in all, I was satisfied by the shopping experience, and the shop owner, a distinguished older gentleman, made no unsavory comment at all about my appearance, considering my pointy ears and glowing eyes made it obvious I wasn't a human at first glance. Whether or not he thought I was a human or an elf, it didn't matter at the end of the day, as the man conducted himself properly and even earned himself a nice bonus at the end.




    I gazed around myself at the splendor of the city. Daylight burned, and I used my time to explore around the city. I had already visited the Grand Arena earlier this morning, which left a few locations on my list that I wanted to visit before I went to the Imperial Palace. To be more specific, I wanted to visit the Temple to the Four, I wanted to visit the Imperial Magic Academy, the Adventurer's Guild, and the market.

    However, while walking through the city, my ears picked up a tune. It came from what appeared to be a tavern. It was the middle of the day, yet it seemed particularly loud.

    I was indecisive about whether or not to go in. The last time I went to a tavern, a man lost his eyes.

    Eh, what's the worst that could happen.

    I walked through the door, expecting to find another lusty song about barmaids with oversized breasts. Instead, I saw something far more… mundane.

    In this lively tavern of Arwintar, whose name I do not know nor care to know for there are so many of these taverns in this city, where laughter and conversation blended with the clink of tankards, I saw and heard a troubadour holding court, with his courtiers around him waiting on his every move. It was a relatively young man, wielding his lute like a swordsman would wield a deadly weapon.

    His voice, rich and resonant, wove a tale of ancient lands and a sovereign's valor—a melody that spoke of Emperor Escevell's triumph over the Wyvern Riding Tribes.

    "In ancient desert lands where shadows roamed,

    Mighty Escevell, on the Emperor's throne.

    He rode 'gainst Wyverns' savage flight,

    In southwest realms where sunsets bright."

    The troubadour's fingers danced skillfully over the strings of his lute, each note carrying the weight of history and heroism.

    "With sword and shield,

    He led the fray,

    His valor fierce,

    The enemy would pay!

    Through valleys deep and mountains tall,

    He answered fate's relentless call!"

    I leaned closer, curious by the tale unfolding in verse—a tribute to leadership and courage in the face of adversity. But how much of it was true. Did this man actually kill Wyverns? Were there actual Wyvern Riders?

    "Against the Wyvern Riding Tribes he stood,

    Their strength and fury, broken like cheap wood.

    Yet Escevell, with steadfast might,

    Brought dawn amidst the darkest night."

    The tavern patrons, enthralled by the troubadour's storytelling, nodded or raised their tankards in silent homage to the Emperor's memory.

    "Their arrows fell like autumn rain,

    But Wyverns' pride could not sustain.

    For Escevell, with strategy grand,

    United empire, with steady hand."

    As the song reached its peak, a wave of emotion swept through the room—pride, awe, and a deep respect for the past echoing in every line.

    "Oh, how the banners waved in pride,

    As savages scattered, fled to hide.

    In history's annals, bold and true,

    Escevell's name, forever true."

    The people began to cheer loudly, clinking their tankards together in the honor of both the musician and the warrior.

    "Thank you, thank you, thank you, my humble patrons!" The troubadour bowed, took off his hat and extended it in a graceful pose and proceeded to lavish praises on his customers.

    Clever.

    I had to say, it was not a bad song. I took out a silver coin from my pouch and threw it in an arc until it landed right in the man's hat, safely nestled there. The others soon began to do much the same. Satisfied, I left the tavern and continued on my journey through Arwintar.





    My steps led me to an opulent building, its façade adorned with sculptures of mythical creatures and celestial beings. A sign above the grand entrance bore the words "Elysian Exchange and Auction House," and curiosity drew me in. Two guards wearing black armor and cruel half-helms and wielding halberds guarded the entrance.

    I stood in front of them, waiting. They did not speak.

    "May I enter?" I asked.

    "No funny business." Growled one of them.
    "No refunds." Growled the other.

    Right…

    I decided to walk through. The heavy wooden doors swung open to reveal an interior even more magnificent than the outside. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the crowd gathered within. There were people talking, all clad resplendently, most likely nobles, discussing this and that. Politics most likely.

    I tried to make myself unseen and occupy a corner and just observe. I didn't get much time. A bell rang from further inside the building, and soon enough like rats all the nobles scurried off. I tried following them, but two guards crossed their spears and blocked my way.

    "You need a ticket to enter."

    "Need a number to buy."

    These two weren't any more identifiable from the two guarding the entrance to the building proper. I turned my head to the left and the right, until I found what appeared to be a receptionist's desk. It was staffed by a young woman with a bob cut, and she was protected by what appeared to be glass.

    "Here to enter the Auction?" She asked cheerfully.

    "...yes." I responded.

    "Alrighty then, you're just in time. It's beginning soon, but I can fix you right up. I'll just need your name and a deposit."

    "Deposit?"

    "Coin deposit. We return it if you don't buy anything."

    "What do you sell?"

    She smiled. "Oh, goods and services. Livestock sometimes." The guards chuckled.

    Is there a joke here? What am I missing here?

    Silent and unable to formulate a response, I deposited the necessary gold, gave her my name, and took a small sign with a number on it.




    Rows of plush chairs filled the room, each occupied by finely dressed individuals, their wealth evident in their attire. At the center of the hall was a raised platform, draped in crimson and gold, bearing the emblem of an elegant tree, its branches intertwined with runes. The air was thick with anticipation, the atmosphere almost festive, yet there was an undercurrent of something darker. I felt unnerved in this place, as if something horrible would happen, or if I had failed to see what was plainly obvious.

    I found an open seat toward the back, far away from the vermin gathering closer to the stage. The vermin continued to speak, and as they did, a deep unease continued to make itself known in my soul.

    An auctioneer, dressed in lavish robes and dripping with jewels, took the stage. He twirled his hand around him, and the curtains parted, revealing flesh.


    On the stage stood a line of elves, their otherworldly beauty striking even to a seasoned warrior like myself. They were bound in chains, their faces a mix of resignation and defiance. Dark elves, no less, their noble features marred by the indignity of their situation.

    "Behold," the announcer declared, his voice booming as he extolled the virtues of each elf. Gesturing to the first elf, a tall, graceful figure with silver hair and piercing blue eyes. "Eldarin, a master healer, proficient in both alchemy and healing magics, trained in the ancient arts of Elven medicine. His hands can mend wounds that no human doctor could dream of healing. Who will start the bidding?"

    The crowd responded with fervent bids, hands shooting up as wealthy patrons vied for the healer. I watched, a mixture of fascination and revulsion churning within me. This was no ordinary auction; this was the cold commercialization of sentient beings, a stark contrast to the ideas and virtues written into my being at the time of my creation in Nazarick.

    Next was a female elf, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes a deep, haunting green. "Lythien, an accomplished musician and singer," the auctioneer announced. "Her voice can soothe the fiercest of tempers and bring joy to the darkest of hearts. A rare talent, indeed." She was dressed much like a noble would be, and though clearly beautiful, she was not a 'pleasure' slave, which was the mark of grace for her I supposed.

    Again, the bids flew, each higher than the last. The room buzzed with excitement as the auction continued. I observed the bidders closely. There was a wealthy merchant, his girth a testament to his prosperity, who seemed particularly interested in acquiring entertainers for his lavish parties. A stern-faced noblewoman, draped in furs, sought a personal healer for her ailing son. A young nobleman, barely more than a boy, bid eagerly for a tutor, a wise old elf with eyes that seemed to hold centuries of knowledge.

    Then came a heartbreaking sight: elven children, their innocence starkly contrasting with the opulence around them. "These young ones are adept in household chores and can be trained to serve in any capacity. Their youth allows them to learn how to read and write quickly, and as a matter of fact many of them already have. They will learn to work and be loyal to you, that much I can guarantee" the auctioneer proclaimed, his tone as businesslike as ever. The bids were quick, the patrons seeing them as long-term investments.

    It was obvious to me why. If these people could secure these slaves while young and give them decent enough treatment, eventually they would grow to love their chains. Isolated and afraid and ostracized, they would learn to worship the hand that fed them, and over time would abandon all hope of returning to their native land.

    A pair of formidable warriors followed, their muscular forms and stern expressions hinting at their prowess in battle. "Strong and loyal, these elves will serve well in any noble's guard," the auctioneer said, and the bids soared, driven by those seeking to bolster their personal guards.

    Finally, a hush fell over the room as the auctioneer introduced a group of elven women, their beauty accentuated by scant, revealing clothing. "These rare beauties are perfect for companionship and more intimate services," he announced with a knowing smile, and the crowd's interest peaked, bids coming in rapid succession.

    Should I end every human life here? Destroy this city? Destroy this Empire? Destroy Slane while I'm at it?

    I can. I easily can. I don't really think they can stop me. I can easily justify myself to Lord Ainz if push comes to shove.

    The wood on my chair creaks and cracks, crumbling into sawdust beneath my fingers. A few people gaze back toward me, but most ignore me, their eyes too drawn to the scantily clad dark elven women.

    Restraint. Yes. There's innocent people here, no matter how few. And perhaps these people can be reformed instead of destroyed. I shall hope for that, for now.

    The room's energy shifted as the auctioneer signaled for silence. "And now, the grand prize of tonight's auction," he announced, his voice lowering dramatically. "One of the Elven King's daughters, captured by the warriors of the Slane Theocracy and brought to us. Behold, her signature heterochromatic eyes, marking her as one of the Elven King's descendants. I give you, Perska."

    A young girl was led onto the stage, her heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one green—wide with a mixture of fear and defiance. Her dirty blonde hair framed a delicate face that still bore the innocence of youth. The crowd's murmur turned to a collective gasp, and the bidding began almost immediately.

    All I could see was Aura in her place.

    "One hundred gold coins!" called a slimy noble, his beady eyes gleaming with greed. He was draped in rich silks, his fingers heavy with rings.

    "Two hundred!" I shouted, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions within me. The money I had taken from that fat fool in the Arena would hopefully serve me well. I didn't expect to spend it like this, but needs must.

    "Three hundred!" the noble countered, sneering in my direction. His confidence was unsettling.

    "Four hundred!" I retorted, my mind racing. The room was electric with tension, all eyes on the two of us.

    "Five hundred!" The noble's voice was calm, assured. I hesitated, my hand trembling. This was all the money I had. I already spent the rest of it. I could outbid him no further.

    "One thousand!" the noble declared, his smirk widening as he saw the defeat in my eyes. The auctioneer's proclamation was like a spear against my heart, and the room erupted in applause.

    I stood there, helpless, as the princess was led away, and it felt like her eyes had hope for the first time in a long time before it was crushed in a brief, heart-wrenching moment. The guards, heavily armed and vigilant, ensured that the auction proceeded without disruption.

    I took a good look at the noble. I took a good look at the man who ran this butcher's market, and at all those who willingly participated. I remembered the face of the girl who sold tickets for this place. I etched their faces into memory. One day soon, their dooms would visit them like a thief in the night.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Interesting. I thought she had False data or a ring to suppress her Mana signature. I feel like that would be very on-point for a Boss NPC. Fluder can't miss that pillar of light. And she's an Angel to boot, our guy is getting a religious experience fr fr. Sasuga, Ainz-sama
     
    She can probably convince Fluder to help with dismantling the slave industry. He's pretty influential and will basically worship the ground she walks on
     
    Fluted scene / Sophie scene repeated
    Whilst Fluder is exceptional, influential noble with a tragic past with a grudge against the Demon God insect that destroyed his village.




    looking for another future discipline ( but has Sophie come close to high expectations, which Fluder accidentally senses Ramiel magic
    In the city .
    While Ramiel goes to the auction and lives to regret it after learning the inside joke from guardsmen at the door after wanting to save little Lolita with what little money she had Princess and wanting to burn the place to the ground after seeing the noble that bought the slave princess at the auction.
    Yes,Ramiel Have patience their end is coming soon enough, but with just a little bit of planning on not destroying the whole city on site.
    Continue on
    Cheers!
     
    Chapter 15 - Schnelle Gerechtigkeit
  • Threadmarks
    • Schnelle Gerechtigkeit​


    The night air was cool and crisp as I left the Elysian Exchange and Auction House, a triumphant smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I slicked my hair back, adjusted my vest, and stepped inside the carriage. The elven girl beside me walked with hesitant steps, her chains clinking softly with each movement. I couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration. Outbidding that foreign woman had been the highlight of my evening. Her frustration and defeat had been palpable, and now, the elven princess was mine. Damn tourist.

    So many foreigners were coming to Arwintar lately. All of them coming like good little dogs, just waiting to eat the scraps off the Emperor's table.

    "Get moving!" I commanded my guards, and they obeyed. They were smart men, all of them. Obedient, loyal, and silent. Nothing more, and nothing less was required from a good guardsman.

    The carriage ride back to my estate was a blur of excitement. I glanced at the girl, her heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one green—wide with fear. From up close, they really were beautiful. They only served to heighten my anticipation. Tonight, I would enjoy my prize, but first, she needed to be prepared. And who knows, perhaps she could sire a son?

    Yes, she was a bit young, not yet an adult, but it wouldn't take more than a decade for her to reach child-bearing age, and by that time perhaps she might even grant me an heir. An heir of my own blood and bone, strengthened by the Elf King's own blood, the child would be strong and fearsome indeed. Perhaps they might even marry into the Imperial Family and get a good position in the government? Jircniv had plenty of concubines and wives, and plenty of sons and daughters. He'd need to get rid of them sooner or later… the sons would need positions, and the daughters marriages. Yes, there was potential there. But until such a time comes, the girl would be purely stress relief.

    Buying a slave girl was not something I really wanted to do, but I really couldn't stand to be in the presence of that wicked hag that dared to call herself my wife. Blasted woman was lucky I needed her father to help export the glass from my workshops safely without it cracking into bits and pieces into foreign markets.

    We arrived at my estate, a sprawling mansion surrounded by lush gardens and high walls. My servants rushed to open the doors, their eyes widening at the sight of the elven girl. I paid them no mind, leading her inside and calling for my head servant.

    "See to it that she is bathed and dressed appropriately," I commanded, my voice firm. "I want her ready within the hour."

    The head servant, a portly man with a perpetually worried expression, nodded quickly. The man had been here ever since my brother's days as lord of the estate, and he'd always been constant. And dull. "Yes, my lord. It will be done."

    I watched as the girl was led away, a satisfied smirk playing on my lips. This was the life I deserved. Wealth, power, and the finest pleasures money could buy. Even the Bloody Emperor, Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, with his ruthless purges, had recognized my value and left me untouched. My influence was too great, my connections too vital. I was untouchable.

    As I made my way to my chambers, I encountered my wife, Lady Evelina von Hohenfels. Her delicate features were marred by a frown as she eyed the elven girl being led away.

    "Aldric, what have you done?" she asked, her voice laced with disappointment. "Buying a slave? An elven slave? This is beneath us. It's barbaric."

    I waved her off dismissively. "Barbaric. Spare me your sanctimony, Evelina. I know all about your dalliances with the gardener. Perhaps I should have him brought in to serve us both tonight. Or I could also have him scourged. Or I could simply tell your father. We both know how zealous he is, and how he'd look at you if he knew."

    "You wouldn't dare."

    "I would. Now answer the question. Which of these three options would you prefer?"

    Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment, but she said nothing. She knew I had the upper hand, and any protest would only deepen her disgrace. She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me to revel in my victory.

    I made my way up the stairs to my chambers, my mind racing with anticipation. The room was opulent, filled with rich tapestries and fine furniture. I poured myself a glass of the finest wine, savoring the taste as I imagined the night's events. I had always been a connoisseur of the exotic, and this elven princess was the rarest prize yet. I decided to get some work done, and look over my books, but my mind was half there.

    At one point I felt a chill upon me, a cold draft. I turned around and noticed the window open and the wind blowing. Damn foolish servants leaving the window open at nighttime. I closed it and went back to my books and sat down to read. The numbers were going up, and this purchase didn't put me too far behind. Did I overpay for the girl? Yes. But I had to. That damn foreign woman tried to bid against me. Against me!

    The sheer balls on her. I should find her. Either kill her or hire her. I don't know which. A worker team could find her and acquire her for me. Hmm…I'll think it over tomorrow.

    Time seemed to drag as I waited, but finally, the head servant returned, bowing low. "My lord, the girl is ready."

    "Excellent," I said, setting down my glass. I stood, smoothing my robes and making my way to the basement where she awaited. I passed numerous guards on my way there. Their faces were stone cold and silent.

    The door creaked open, revealing the girl standing in the center of the well lit basement. Torches were at every corner of the room. She had been bathed and dressed in a silken gown that clung to her slender frame. Her hair, now clean and shining, cascaded over her shoulders. She was a vision, her eyes still wide with fear but also a hint of defiance.

    She knew there was no escape. In this room, neither Jircniv, nor the Temples, nor any power on earth, could affect me. I might as well be a god.

    "Come here," I ordered, my voice dripping with anticipation.

    She hesitated, but a sharp look from me sent her moving. As she approached, I reached out to touch her, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. The thrill of power surged through me.

    "Do you know how lucky you are?" I whispered, my grip tightening. "To belong to someone as powerful as me?"

    She said nothing, her eyes locked on mine. I could see the fear in them, and it only fueled my arrogance. I was untouchable, unstoppable. Even Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix couldn't lay a hand on me.

    "How old are you?" I asked her. But she was stubborn and silent, and didn't speak a word.

    "So be it then. Resist. I'll just enjoy it better."

    I dragged her to the far corner of the basement, where chains hung from the walls. Securing her wrists and ankles, I stepped back to admire my handiwork. "Tonight, you will learn your place," I said, picking up a whip from a nearby table.

    The first strike landed with a sharp crack, and she cried out, the sound echoing through the basement. Each lash brought a surge of exhilaration, her pain fueling my pleasure. After several minutes, my arm grew tired, and I paused, turning to a nearby table where a bottle of wine awaited. I poured myself a glass, savoring the rich aroma.

    As I lifted the glass to my lips, I noticed something that made me freeze. Seated in my chair was a figure cloaked in white, with silver-gold hair and long, elf-like ears. Her eyes, glowing with an unnatural light, pierced through me, and her presence exuded a power that made my knees weak.

    "Who are you?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my attempts to sound authoritative.

    The figure lifted the glass of wine I had set out, taking a small sip before grimacing. "Too bitter," she said, her voice resonant and echoing through the room. "Much like your soul."

    That voice. I've heard it before! It was that damn woman. Her ears! She's an elf. Are they relatives? It all makes sense now.

    "How dare you!" Anger flared within me, and I grabbed a spear I had kept on a weapon rack that kept both the whip and numerous other tools of death, hurling it at her with all my might. The spear flew true, as I knew it would, I was no slouch in martial pursuits after all. The damn woman didn't move from where she was sitting as the spear was flying toward her. I regretted being so hasty, as I couldn't have fun with her if she was dead. Gentlemen have standards, after all.


    What I expected to happen, didn't happen. As the spear neared her, it deflected off an invisible barrier and clattered uselessly to the floor. My heart pounded in my chest, my bravado slipping away.

    "Looks like you're having trouble with penetration. Perhaps that's why you use a whip? I understand, you wouldn't be the first man faced with such problems."

    "Guards!" I shouted, my voice rising in fear. "Guards, to me!"

    There was no response. I ran up the stairs into the hallway, expecting to see my loyal guards rushing to my aid. Instead, I was met with a horrifying sight. My guards were there, but they were no longer men. They had been turned into stone statues, their expressions frozen in terror.

    "What's happening? This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" I shouted, yet before I even knew it, I felt myself being manhandled. I was flying through the air. How?!


    The next thing I felt was pain, as my back collided against the basement wall. I had just left it!

    My head was dizzy, and I felt like a rib was cracked.

    "Why... why are you doing this?" I barely managed to let out, lower than a whisper.

    The woman stood up. She stood up and walked toward the weapon rack and slowly examined each of the tools there with vague disinterest. "Well, isn't it obvious? It's because I can." She replied.

    What an asinine reason! You don't enter someone's home and subject them to such humiliation because you just 'can'!

    "Because you can?"

    "Isn't that the reason you bought this girl and were prepared to treat her like no more than meat? Because you could. You didn't care for the consequences."

    "That's… I'm a noble! Don't you know who I am. I am important! She's no one! Just a slave girl!"


    The woman regarded me impassively before chuckling. "I have no respect for someone simply because they were born into temporal power. Why should I? If you knew the kind of power I was born into, real power, you would laugh at kings and emperors. You would be the same."

    "What are you supposed to be then?" I croaked out as I managed to push myself up against the wall to better support my back.

    "You know, while I was waiting for you to make the journey home by carriage, I decided to read the Book of Exodus. It was on a whim really, as I knew what it was about but had never really read it," she explained, her voice softening just slightly. "It was decently interesting, but there's a quote I liked. 'Whoever kidnaps another man must be put to death, whether he sells him or the man is found in his possession.' Do you think it's a fair law?"

    "Fair law? How can it be fair? You're judging me based on some passage from a book I've never even heard about!"

    The figure was contemplative for a second then nodded.

    "True. But Imperial Law, the Law set forth by the Emperor, that allows you to own a slave, prohibits you from whipping or beating your slaves without due cause. I checked just today with a local judge. So you're still guilty." I felt my throat dry up, my heart racing. "

    You can't do this! Even the Emperor—"

    "Would recognize you as guilty. Emperor Jircniv cannot save you now, and besides, I'm going to meet him soon enough," she interrupted, her voice like thunder. "You're like a malignant tumor in this world," she continued, her eyes narrowed. "And just as a surgeon must excise the cancer to save the patient, so too must I remove you to heal the world. There's no place for corruption here. I can't afford to present a poisoned gift to Lord Ainz."

    Was this it? No, no, I refuse! I refuse to go out like this, like some dog!

    With the last vestiges of my strength, I pushed myself upwards and jumped at her, but before I could even go near her, a visible shockwave erupted from her hand, and slammed me into the wall, yet again, the bricks cracking as easily as my spine cracked.

    Pain. Failure. Defeat. Hopelessness. Death.

    My pleas were useless, and the burning pain intensified. My vision darkened, and I felt myself slipping away, consumed by the unbearable pain. I prayed to gods I had never believed in, hoping for a miracle that would never come.

    My head was running, I was dizzy, and I could barely see.

    When the whip I used to whip the girl floated into her hand, all hope I had died.

    With the sting of the whip on my chest, I felt myself being burned alive. Each strike was stronger than humanly possible, and literal pounds of flesh and blood were dislodged from my broken body with each swing. This lasted for a good half a dozen strikes, before the whip broke under the excessive force.

    The woman stared at the whip in her hand and threw it away wordlessly.

    By some miracle, I was still alive, but when I saw her pick up the spear I threw at her, I could do nothing but chuckle.

    "Gods forgive me…" I let out a final prayer, perhaps in vain, at the gods I never believed in, pleading that they have mercy on my soul.

    I thought myself a god here, but in the end, I was only human. I didn't even see her throw the spear before it pierced my skull.



    The sun had set hours ago. Many were awake, and many were asleep, in the beating heart of the Imperial Capital.

    Fluder Paradyne floated above the Imperial Magic Academy, his heart pounding with the thrill of discovery. Through his arcane eyes, he had seen an immense source of power, a beacon that had appeared suddenly in the heart of Arwintar. It was unlike anything he had ever sensed before, a force that could only be described as divine. And that source of power had finally stood still.

    Perhaps it was foolish of him to hope to meet such a power without preparation, but he could not hope to contain himself. Two centuries of languishing in darkness, and he would not let himself be paralyzed with fear!

    Fluder set off to pursue his destiny. The cool wind whipped through his snow-white hair and beard as he flew across the city, his keen eyes fixed on the direction of the disturbance. The night was silent, save for the distant sounds of the city below, but his mind was aflame with anticipation.

    That powerful presence, that raw magic he had been waiting for all his life! Would it be a worthy opponent, a potential student, or a learned master? He didn't know, and he could hardly contain himself.

    The presence he had been following, had also left tracks! A fire, easily visible at night, especially from a bird's eye view, was the mark of the mysterious magical source. Whoever this was, they were clearly busy!

    He set off even faster toward the source. His mind raced with thoughts, until all of a sudden… the presence vanished.

    His eye twitched, and he stopped mid air, standing there stunned, his mouth agape, and his mind nearly broke. It took all he had not to scream at the top of his lungs.

    "No, no, no, no, no! How! Why now! Why did you leave me!?"

    Fluder's heart nearly sank due to sorrow, but eventually, his curiosity and determination spurred him onward.

    Some time later,h e descended, landing lightly on the grounds of the burning estate. The acrid smell of smoke and the crackling of the fire filled the air, but Fluder's mind was focused on uncovering the truth behind the disturbance.

    The mansion, once a grand and opulent residence, was now a scene of chaos and destruction. Fluder moved through the grounds with purpose, his eyes taking in the devastation. The bodies of soldiers, turned to stone, stood frozen in place, their expressions twisted in terror. Fluder's heart ached at the sight; their fate was a testament to the overwhelming power that had been unleashed here.

    He moved deeper into the mansion, using his mastery of magic to stifle the flames as he went. A wave of his hand sent a gust of wind through the halls, extinguishing the fires that blocked his path. The once-grand corridors were now filled with smoke and rubble, but Fluder pressed on, his eyes scanning for any clue that might explain what had happened.

    As he made his way through the smoke and blackened ruins, Fluder's eyes fell upon a decapitated head lying amidst the debris. It was the head of a portly man dressed as a butler, his face frozen in an expression of horror. Fluder supposed the man was the head servant of the estate, based on the man's clothing.

    The sight filled him with a mix of excitement and determination. Whatever had transpired here, it was clear that a great and terrible power had been at work. But why?

    Fluder moved with caution, his senses heightened. He found the lady of the estate in a nearby hallway, slumped against the wall, an expression of fear written on her face. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, her life there but her mind not. Most likely in shock, or paralyzed with fear. Fluder felt a pang of pity; she had been a pawn in a larger game, a victim of forces beyond her control. Poor thing never even had a chance.

    "At least she's still alive… somehow. She should have choked due to the smoke poisoning the air, but she's still alive. Perhaps she would have been better off if she perished?"

    For a moment, Fluder contemplated putting the woman out of her misery, but decided against it. Whether she lived or died was not his concern, and it was beneath him to be a mere executioner. Fluder moved on with his exploration of the mansion.

    Finally, Fluder reached the basement, the place that always was either the most boring or most exciting part of a house. The door hung ajar, and he could feel the lingering traces of death in the air. He stepped inside, the smell of blood mingling with the smoke. The sight that greeted him was both horrifying and illuminating.

    At the far end of the room,, was the corpse of the noble lord of the mansion. The spear had pierced straight through his skull and had lodged itself thoroughly into the wall. The scene was one of brutal violence, but it also spoke of a power that had transcended mere physical force. Fluder didn't know who this was, beyond it being some noble lord of the Empire, but he did wonder what exactly this man did to deserve such brutality.

    His eyes turned toward his right, where he saw what were no doubt chains, probably used for sexual masochism. Was this a sex dungeon?

    Was this all part of some lover's quarrel? But the wife would be dead then… hmm, it made no sense.

    Fluder's eyes examined the rest of the room, and he found literal pounds of flesh and fat across the floor and the walls, with blood being sprayed everywhere. He also saw what appeared to be a broken whip. He picked up the plain whip, which had not a lick of magical potential in it.

    "He was whipped before he was killed… some attempt at justice, perhaps? Curious…" Fluder mused to himself before throwing the whip away.

    Fluder took one last glance at the corpse and walked away. He exited the mansion the same way he came, gave it one last look, and with his mind set on finding out who did this and why, he teleported back to his quarters in the Imperial Academy.

    AN: Justice comes quick. Also, will be catching a plane tomorrow and will need some time to adjust so Idk how uploading chapters will go.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Thanks for the chapter! MC has the old testament vibes lmaooo. Not sure I agree with the whole lesbians being unnatural thing in one of the earlier chapters, but overall very well done! I do like the little bit of poetic justice at the end for that noble!
     
    Chapter 16 - Masacre en el Bosque
  • Threadmarks
    • Masacre en el Bosque​


    Under the pale light of a waning moon, Momon, Nabe, Lupusregina, and Aura ventured deep into the forest. The trees loomed over them, casting long shadows that danced with the flicker of their torches. Aura led the way, her keen eyes and expert knowledge of the terrain guiding them toward their prey. The mission was clear: subjugate the forest by eliminating the Serpent of the West and the Giant of the East.

    As they walked, Momon's thoughts drifted back to E-Rantel. "I'm still dissatisfied with how the incident with that woman Clementine was resolved," he began, breaking the silence.

    Nabe glanced at him, her eyes hard, yet also filled with confusion at the same time. "I don't understand Momon-Sama. I thought you would have been pleased. We did everything right, Momon-sama. We captured her without bloodshed, preventing chaos."

    Momon nodded but his expression remained grim. "Exactly. IT all went perfectly, that's the problem. If things had gone out of hand first, we could have made a name for ourselves by saving everyone. We know those two were part of this Zurrernon group, or at least that's what the Guild Master and that talking magical orb told us, but beyond that we know nothing about them or their goals. Our rise from Copper to Gold after the quest with Nphirea feels lacking."

    Lupusregina chuckled. "But, Momon-sama, you saved the entire city. Isn't that enough?"

    "It's never enough," Momon replied, his voice firm. "We must aim higher, subjugate greater threats, and grow in power each day. Only then will Nazarick be safe. And that is why we are here."

    Aura, sensing the tension, changed the topic. "Mare's making great progress with concealing Nazarick," she said, her voice cheerful. "He's getting better at it every day."

    Momon nodded approvingly. "That's good to hear. The concealment of Nazarick is crucial. How are your pets, Aura?"

    "Oh, they're doing great! I've been training them hard, and they're responding well," Aura replied with a smile. "And don't worry, I'm eating properly."

    Lupusregina laughed, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "We just care about you, Aura. You tend to get so caught up in your work."

    Aura giggled. "I know, I know. By the way, what's it like interacting with humans?"

    Nabe's expression turned icy. "They're weak and foolish. It's tiresome dealing with them."

    Lupusregina shrugged. "They're amusing, in a way. Their reactions are always so…predictable."

    Momon's eyes glowed behind his visor. "Most of them are indistinguishable from each other in value, but they serve their purpose. They are tools to be used and discarded as needed."

    All the while, Aura's keen sense of smell led them towards their quarry.

    As they approached a large clearing outside a cave, the sound of panicked voices reached their ears. The Giant of the East, a brutish troll, was arguing with the Serpent of the West, a crafty naga. The two were clearly distressed by the disappearance of Hamusuke.

    "We need to find out what happened to the Wise King of the Forest!" the Giant bellowed, his voice rumbling through the trees.

    The Serpent hissed. "Calm yourself, you fool. We'll figure this out. Maybe we should—"

    Momon stepped into the clearing, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Good evening," he said, his voice cold and authoritative. "We're here to put an end to your pathetic rule over this forest."

    The Giant, who was in fact not a giant, but gigantic, muscular troll, stepped forward. He wore clothes that looked like skin from a tiger-like creature and had a beast's skull hanging on his shoulder, and in his hand he wielded a giant wooden club.

    The Giant expressed his dissatisfaction with a roar of anger. "Who do you think you are? How dare you insult me!"

    Aura smirked. "He's Momon, and you're nothing but a filthy troll."

    Momon raised a hand, silencing Aura. "No, let me introduce myself properly." With a flourish, he removed his helmet, revealing his skeletal visage. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown, and I am taking command of this forest, and all who dwell within it. Now, kneel, and live. Or resist, and die."

    In response the Giant simply…laughed. He laughed, as did all his minions, while the Serpent, who Momon identified as a Naga at a glance, looked caught between two minds.

    "What's so funny?" Ainz Ooal Gown asked, his voice calm, but his eyes blazing with rage. To have someone laugh at the name of his Guildmates meant that even if the troll begged, it would die. Disrespecting the memory of his friends was a mortal sin, and a crime for which there would be no pardon, and no escape from.

    "Fuhahaha! Puny and tiny skeleton! Your name is weak, and ugly! The name of a coward! Not a powerful name like mine!"

    "Calm down Guu, I don't think that's-

    The Serpent of the West's words were cut off by the sound of Momon's thrown greatsword embedding itself into the Giant's chest. The force of the blow was so great in fact, the creature known as Guu fell flat on his fat and giant ass, shaking the earth with his great weight and letting out moaning sounds and spitting out blood.

    This caused chaos to erupt.


    First to make a move was the Serpent. Momon identified it as a Naga, but a rather ugly and unevolved one compared to the Yggdrasil variants. It tried to negotiate, all in order to save its scaly hide. The Serpent's eyes darted around, seeking an escape. "Perhaps we can discuss this—"

    However, when the other ogres roared in rage upon seeing their leader downed, it knew that such an opportunity had passed. The Serpent coated itself with [Invisibility] magic, and tried to slither away.

    It was for naught. Aura's eyes, ears, and nose were all too sharp, and no misbegotten forest snake could escape her.

    She quickly caught it with a lasso around its neck, pulling it back. "Not so fast," she said, her voice filled with amusement, while the serpent tried desperately to resist, choking and gasping for air all the while.


    The Giant's minions, a group of ogres, lunged forward, but Nabe was ready. She unleashed a barrage of lightning bolts, cutting down the ogres with ease. The creatures fell, their bodies smoking and twitching from the electric onslaught.

    The Giant, somehow, was still alive though. He pushed himself off the ground, and took out the giant sword embedded in his chest, before throwing it away. His pride wounded, but his chest cavity regenerating, he charged at Momon with a massive club, a terrifying war cry being emitted from his disgusting and filthy throat, hoping to get revenge. Yet it was again, all for naught.

    The club was lifted into the sky and was heading straight for Momon's shiny white skull. Yet before it could crush said skull… it bounced off an invisible barrier, like a child jumping on a trampoline.

    Confusion grew, yet its rage was unrelenting, and it continued to strike.

    Each blow was nullified by Momon's resistance to low-level physical attacks. The troll's frustration grew with every failed attempt.

    "Foolish creature," Momon said, not moving from his spot. "You think you can harm me?"

    "Die, undead!" the Giant roared, his attacks growing more desperate.

    Momon studied the Giant, all the while contemplating how something this stupid could even breathe. Eventually, he remembered a well-known Yggdrasil fact, one stating that trolls were creatures that had very high health regeneration. Curious about its regenerative abilities, and whether or not they would carry over into this New World, he decided to experiment. He sliced off the troll's leg, watching in fascination as it grew back in real time. The Giant moaned and screamed, begging for mercy as Momon continued to experiment, dicing and slicing the troll's body while it regenerated constantly, always in pain.

    "What sort of troll are you?" Momon mused aloud, his tone detached and scientific. "Your regeneration is remarkable."

    Lupusregina finished burning a stray ogre to ash with her holy magic as her stomach growled. "I'm hungry," she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

    "Hungry? Hmm… Oh, go on ahead. I am curious to see how far his regeneration goes."

    As the fight reached its climax, Guu the Troll lay sprawled on the ground, his monstrous body wracked with pain from Momon's relentless attacks. Blood flowed freely, soaking the ground, yet the creature's innate regeneration was already knitting his wounds back together. His eyes, wild with desperation, darted toward Lupu, who was watching with an eerie calm.

    Lupu stepped back, her usual playful demeanor shifting to something darker and more primal. The air around her seemed to crackle with energy as she began to transform. Her ginger hair rippled like fire in the wind, shifting and elongating, while her body contorted and reshaped. Muscles bulged beneath her skin, and claws elongated, taking the place of her fingertips.

    In moments, Lupu had morphed into a fearsome werewolf. Her eyes blazed a striking amber, filled with a predatory glint that sent chills down Guu's spine. Her fur was a deep russet, almost shimmering in the dappled light of the forest. Powerful limbs and a long, sinuous tail accentuated her ferocity, while sharp fangs glistened menacingly as she bared her teeth in a predatory snarl. Beauty and power, grace and terror, the perfect huntress, and she was hungry.

    As Lupu finished her transformation, a feral grin spread across her face, revealing sharp teeth glistening with anticipation. "This is going to be so much fun!" she growled, a wild glint in her amber eyes, hinting at the bloodlust coursing through her veins.

    Guu, already trembling from the pain of his injuries, let out a whimper, instinctively shrinking back from the sight of the transformed Lupu. The Serpent, still ensnared, stared wide-eyed at the display, realization dawning on him that they were facing not just any adversary but a true terror of the forest. He only then understood that they never even stood a chance.

    "Y-you can't be serious!" the Serpent hissed, its voice laced with fear. "This isn't fair! Where do you people even come from!?"

    Ignoring the Serpent's protest, Lupu lunged at Guu, her movement a blur of muscle and fur. She tore into his regenerating flesh with a fury that belied her earlier playful nature. Her claws raked through the air, slashing at the Troll's exposed wounds, and despite his regeneration, the sheer force of her attack kept him reeling.

    Guu screamed in agony, each new gash a reminder of his own helplessness. He tried to fend her off, swinging his fists wildly, but Lupu was too swift, dodging his blows effortlessly. Her growls filled the air as she dove in again, sinking her teeth into the Troll's shoulder, ripping a chunk of flesh free. Guu's eyes bulged, shock replacing his anger as he realized he could do little more than endure this torment.

    "Guu! What have you done to deserve this?" the Serpent cried, utterly flabbergasted.

    Guu's response was cut off as Lupu dug her claws deep, leaving behind a trail of blood and fur. Even as the Giant's body attempted to heal, Lupu's relentless assault rendered his regeneration futile. She relished the moment, a gleeful spark in her golden eyes as she feasted on the very essence of fear and desperation emanating from her quarry.

    With every bite and slash, Lupu reveled in the chaotic dance of power, her movements fluid and relentless. The forest trembled with the echoes of her savage feast, the sounds mingling with Guu's anguished cries as he fought to regenerate against the onslaught.

    Finally, as the Troll's heart faltered under the strain of continuous injury, Lupu withdrew momentarily, her eyes glimmering with satisfaction as she observed the once-mighty beast reduced to a pitiful heap, too weakened to regenerate any longer. At some point, he simply gave up and accepted his doom.

    As the final cries of Guu faded, Lupu's eyes blazed with a wild hunger. She turned her feral gaze toward the Serpent, who trembled in fear. "I can smell your fear!" she snarled, her voice a low growl filled with anticipation.

    Aura instinctively jumped back, eyes wide, as Lupu lunged. "Lupu, no!" she shouted, but her warning fell on deaf ears.

    Momon and Nabe sprang forward, intent on saving the Serpent from the imminent onslaught. "Stop her!" Momon commanded, his voice echoing with authority.

    But Lupu was already upon the Serpent, her primal instincts overwhelming any restraint. "Time for meat!" she hissed, the thrill of the chase coursing through her.

    In a heartbeat, Lupu pounced, claws slicing through the air as she sank her teeth into the Serpent's neck. Blood sprayed across the forest floor, painting the scene in vivid crimson.

    With a final, desperate gasp, the Serpent's struggles ceased, its body going limp as Lupu reveled in the taste of victory. She stepped back, panting slightly, her fur matted with the remnants of her bloody feast. Throwing her head back, she let out a haunting howl that echoed through the trees—a primal declaration of dominance that resonated with both victory and the raw madness lurking beneath her surface.

    Momon watched impassively. "Well, that was quick," he remarked, acknowledging the swift end of their captive.

    Nabe shook her head, a hint of venom in her voice. "Disappointing. He could have proved useful."

    Aura, still reeling from the spectacle, realized that Lupu's bloodlust had overtaken her, leaving behind a chilling reminder of the ferocity that lay within the cheery exterior.


    AN: I am finally here, in Konstanz. The website is shit and bugged so I can't schedule an appointment in the citizens bureau to register my address. But I can't see anyone there in the office if I don't have an appointment, as I asked when I went there today, to their office, myself, in person. Lovely. German bureaucracy is truly something to behold in terror.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • AN: I am finally here, in Konstanz. The website is shit and bugged so I can't schedule an appointment in the citizens bureau to register my address. But I can't see anyone there in the office if I don't have an appointment, as I asked when I went there today, to their office, myself, in person. Lovely. German bureaucracy is truly something to behold in terror.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Just wait until you need an advocate or specialist to do inspections or assessments, who won't schedule you an appointment without specific paperwork, but they won't give you the paperwork to set that up at a bureau unless you have an advocate or specialist attending. Circular issues like this are very common unless you can finesse the system and workers. Always better targeting/social engineering weak points in the bureau's staff than attempting to navigate the ridiculous bloat of the processes. Gods forbid you don't have a common mailing address for the paperwork, like student or visitor...

    Better off having the young lad doing mandatory civil service as law clerk (who could not give less of a shit) at the bureau discreetly slide copies of the needed paperwork over and screw the career functionary who can't be bothered do any work...

    Another option is having an embassy staff member from [Home Country]... expedite processes by being convenient middlemen and references for navigating the mess.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 17 - Sogni di Giorni Migliori
  • Threadmarks
    • Sogni di Giorni Migliori​


    Perska woke with a start, her body tensed and her heart pounding in her chest. The memories of the previous night were a blur of pain and fear, but the contrast between her current surroundings and the cold, damp cell she had been confined to was undeniable. The room she now occupied was small and cozy, bathed in the warm glow of sunlight filtering through a window. The bed she lay on was soft, the sheets clean and fragrant. It was a stark contrast to the harsh conditions of her imprisonment.

    She sat up slowly, wincing at the soreness in her body, and took in her surroundings. The room was simply furnished, with a wooden table and a couple of chairs. A pitcher of water and a cup sat on the table, alongside a plate of fresh bread and fruit. Perska's stomach growled, reminding her of how hungry she was. She reached for the water, her hand trembling slightly, when the door creaked open.

    A figure entered the room, moving with an elegance that caught Perska's attention. The woman was tall, with long, silver-gold hair and distinct elf-like ears. Her eyes, a striking shade of gold, radiated a calming presence that eased some of Perska's anxiety. This was clearly the person who had saved her.

    "Good morning," the woman said, her voice gentle and soothing. "How are you feeling?"

    Perska hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Better... I think. Thank you for saving me."

    The woman smiled faintly, her expression filled with warmth. "I'm glad to hear it. My name is Remiel. What is yours?"

    "Perska," she replied softly, still wary but grateful.

    Remiel nodded and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Perska, if you're up to it, I have some questions. I understand if you're not ready to talk about everything just yet."

    Perska took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "I'll try," she said, her voice shaky but resolute.

    "Can you tell me where you're from?" Remiel asked gently.

    Perska's gaze grew distant as she began to recount her past. "I'm from the forest village of Ylindor. It was a beautiful and peaceful place, built high in the treetops to protect against the forest monsters. The village was like a sanctuary among the trees, with wooden houses and walkways suspended high above the ground. Below us, the forests were dense and full of dangerous creatures. Hunters would go down to hunt smaller monsters and animals for food, but they always avoided the larger, more dangerous ones. We had gardens in the treetops where we grew fruits and vegetables. The soil was brought up from the ground and carefully tended in wooden boxes. The village was always so calm and safe, or at least, it used to be."

    Remiel nodded, her expression a mix of curiosity and sympathy. "It sounds like a lovely place. What was it like before the attack?"

    Perska's face clouded with sadness as she continued. "Life in Ylindor was peaceful. We had festivals and gatherings, and everyone worked together to keep the village running smoothly. I remember playing with friends, climbing the wooden walkways, and helping my mother with the gardens. Everything was so normal and comforting."

    Her voice faltered slightly. "But that night... everything changed. I was asleep in my bed when I was suddenly woken up by loud noises and the smell of smoke. I got up and looked outside, and that's when I saw the flames. The soldiers from the Theocracy had come. They were dressed in heavy armor that made it nearly impossible for our warriors and archers to fight them off. Their magic was terrifying. They summoned horrible creatures that attacked everything in their path."

    Perska's eyes grew distant as she relived the nightmare. "I was paralyzed with fear at first. I stood there, unable to move, watching as the village I loved was destroyed. I saw my cousin, Aric, try to shoot an arrow at a soldier, but the arrow just bounced off his armor. It was like nothing could stop them."

    Remiel's eyes showed deep concern. "It must have been horrifying."

    Perska nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "It was. My father was out there, fighting with a spear to defend our home. I saw him fall to the ground, and I couldn't do anything to help him. My mother was trying to protect me, but the soldiers grabbed her. She was screaming as they dragged her away, and I tried to run to her, but I was caught by one of the soldiers."

    Remiel's expression darkened with empathy and anger. "I'm so sorry you had to experience that."

    Perska wiped her tears and continued. "The village was engulfed in flames. The slavers came amidst the chaos, taking advantage of the confusion. They captured anyone they could find, including me. I was sold from one master to another until I ended up with that man."

    Remiel's eyes softened with sympathy. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss. No one should have to go through such suffering."

    Perska took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without your help."

    Remiel leaned forward, her gaze steady and reassuring. "You don't need to repay me. Just focus on recovering. We'll figure out the next steps together."

    Perska hesitated, a burning question on her lips. "Miss... what happened to the man who bought me?"

    Remiel's expression became serious, her voice carrying a steely edge. "He won't be causing any more problems. Ever."

    Perska nodded absent-mindedly. Remiel spoke up once more and asked Perska another question. "Would you like to get up and see the garden? It might be nice to get some fresh air. You can take the food with you if you want."

    Remiel led Perska outside into a lush garden that was a haven of tranquility. The garden was a vibrant display of colors, with various flowers blooming in neat rows and clusters. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms, and the gentle buzz of bees added to the serene atmosphere.

    "This is my garden," Remiel said with a smile. "I guess you can call it an inheritance from my father. He built it for me, just like how he built the small house you woke up in. There's a variety of plants here. They're all useful in one form or another. They can be used for healing, cooking, even making dyes, or to just add beauty to a surrounding."

    Perska's eyes widened in awe as she took in the myriad of flowers. Her gaze was immediately drawn to a cluster of delicate blue flowers with star-like white specks. "Those!" she exclaimed, pointing. "We had those in Ylindor! We called them 'Spotted Blues.' They were used for healing."

    Remiel's eyes brightened with interest. "Yes, those are Starlight Lilies. They are indeed known for their healing properties. It's fascinating how some plants have similar names and uses in different places."

    Perska's excitement grew as she moved from flower to flower. "And those," she said, pointing to a vibrant yellow flower with a rugged appearance. "We had something like that too. We called it 'Sunfire Bloom.'"

    Remiel looked at the flower with a nod. "That's a Sunflare Marigold. It's used to boost energy and mood. It's interesting to see the similarities."

    Perska then noticed a cluster of iridescent flowers with an almost frosted appearance. "Those are so beautiful. We didn't have anything like them in Ylindor. What are they called?"

    Remiel smiled and gestured towards the flowers. "These are Frostpetal Orchids. They are used to treat fevers and inflammatory conditions. Their essence can help regulate body temperature."

    Perska admired the flowers, her eyes shining with curiosity. "I've never seen these before. They're so unique."

    Remiel nodded, appreciating Perska's interest. "And these," she said, pointing to a delicate, glowing flower with soft lavender petals. "Are Moonshade Blossoms. They are used to soothe anxiety and aid sleep. They add a gentle light to the garden at night."

    Perska looked at the flowers, their soft glow casting a calming effect. "They're lovely. They remind me of some of the calming herbs we used to have in Ylindor."

    Remiel noticed Perska's growing sense of wonder and gently inquired, "You seem to have a good knowledge of plants. Are you an apothecary?"

    Perska shook her head. "No, I'm not. But I did help my mother with the plants and herbs in our village."

    Remiel smiled softly. "Well, I'm not an apothecary either, but I am a healer. I treated your wounds when you were brought here. Did you notice?"

    Perska's face lit up with gratitude. "Yes, I did. Thank you."

    Remiel's expression turned thoughtful. "I want to make sure you're well-protected. Would you like a guardian? I can summon one for you."

    Perska looked at Remiel with a mix of curiosity and hope. "A guardian?"

    Remiel nodded, raising her hand and beginning to speak.

    "[Skill: Heavenly Host - Brave Lion!]", and a golden light began to take shape in front of them. From the light emerged a majestic lion, its fur shimmering with a golden hue.

    "This is a Brave Lioness," Remiel explained as the lioness roared softly, her blue eyes scanning the garden with a protective gaze. "She'll be your guardian for a while, ensuring your safety and providing companionship. Not that you need much protection here, as you're safe enough, but it's always nice to have a friend, don't you think?"

    The lioness approached Perska and nuzzled her gently. The warmth of her fur brought a comforting sensation. Perska tentatively reached out, feeling the softness beneath her fingers. She couldn't help but smile as she felt a surge of reassurance.

    Perska giggled at the lioness's affectionate behavior. "Thank you, Remiel," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "I feel so much better knowing I have someone watching over me."

    Remiel smiled, her eyes showing a hint of relief. "You're welcome. We'll take things one step at a time. For now, eat well, rest, and enjoy the garden. Get to know your new guardian—she'll stay with you indefinitely."

    Perska nodded repeatedly, her face brightening with each nod.

    "Wait, are you going somewhere?" Perska asked, her voice tinged with concern.

    "I have work to do," Remiel replied. "Remember how, in the auction house, there were others like you? Others who were sold into slavery?"

    "Yes, I remember," Perska said.

    "Well, I'm going to visit them. I know where they are, and I plan to offer them a place here, after dealing with their self-styled masters. Some might want to strike out on their own or return home, but those who accept will join you here until we can arrange a more permanent situation."

    "Oh, that's fine. Please come back soon, okay?"

    "I will. I promise," Remiel said, then she disappeared in a flash of blue light.




    That very same morning…


    The sun hung high over the Re-Estize Capital, casting its warm rays over the bustling streets and imposing structures. Within the sturdy walls of the royal palace's training grounds, the air was filled with the rhythmic clashing of steel and the grunts of exertion from knights and soldiers honing their skills. Among them, two figures stood out: Gazef Stronoff, the Kingdom's strongest warrior and captain of the warrior troopers, and Climb, the loyal and determined squire of Princess Renner.

    Sweat glistened on Gazef's brow as he parried Climb's sword thrust with practiced ease, his movements fluid and precise. Climb, on the other hand, was relentless in his attacks, pushing himself to his limits under the watchful eye of his mentor. The sound of their clashing blades resonated through the training ground, drawing the attention of a few onlookers who admired the prowess of their kingdom's mightiest warrior and the dedication of the young squire.

    "You're improving, Climb," Gazef remarked, his voice steady despite the intensity of their sparring. "Your strikes are more precise, and your footwork has become more confident."

    Climb paused for a moment, lowering his sword and catching his breath. "Thank you, Sir Gazef. I owe it all to your guidance."

    Gazef smiled, a rare expression that softened his usually stern features. "You've got the heart of a true warrior, Climb. Never lose that determination."

    They resumed their training, Gazef intentionally slowing his movements to allow Climb to analyze and adapt to his techniques. As they continued, Gazef's thoughts wandered back to the recent events in Carne Village. The encounter with Ainz Ooal Gown and the mysterious magic caster who single-handedly turned the tide of battle weighed heavily on his mind.

    Climb lunged forward with a determined strike, which Gazef deftly sidestepped, tapping Climb's sword aside with his own. "Good, good. You're learning to read your opponent's movements," Gazef said, his tone encouraging.

    "Sir Gazef," Climb began, his voice slightly strained from the effort of their sparring, "I've heard about the incident in Carne Village. Can you tell me more about what happened?"

    Gazef's grip on his sword tightened as he parried another of Climb's attacks. "It was... unexpected," he started, his voice carrying a hint of the weight he felt from the encounter. "The village was under attack by the Empire's knights, but they were repelled by a powerful magic caster named Ainz Ooal Gown. His power was overwhelming, and his presence commanded respect and fear in equal measure."

    Climb's eyes widened, clearly intrigued. "What was he like, Sir Gazef? What kind of power did he wield?"

    Gazef sheathed his sword and motioned for Climb to do the same. They walked over to a nearby bench, where Gazef took a seat, his expression pensive. "It's difficult to put into words. I didn't actually see him wield magic in person. I did see one of his summons, though. He summoned a Death Knight, a great black undead monstrosity of bone and steel that, based on the villagers' testimony, was able to cut down knights with ease. But it wasn't just his strength that left an impression—it was his demeanor. He carried himself with an air of confidence and authority, as if he was certain of his superiority."

    Climb listened intently, absorbing every word. "So you didn't see him fight directly?"

    Gazef shook his head. "No, I did not. When the Theocracy's assassins encircled the village, he gave me a wooden idol, which I initially thought was a good luck charm or some magic item. Later, I discovered that it was the means by which Ainz saved me. One moment I was facing certain death, and the next I was back in safety. I did not see the battle myself, but when I arrived at the scene, the devastation spoke of powerful magic. The ground was scorched, and there were signs of immense magical force."

    Climb's eyes were wide with amazement. "What were his servants like? I've heard he had one with him."

    "Yes, there was a servant, but I did not get their name. They were incredibly powerful and loyal to Ainz, most likely, though I didn't get to speak with them at length, sadly. One of them healed my wounds after the battle before I lost consciousness. Still, I am certain that such a powerful magic caster would not have weak or disloyal servants."

    Climb frowned, deep in thought. "Do you think he's a threat to the kingdom, Sir Gazef?"

    Gazef's eyes hardened, his resolve clear. "That depends on what you mean by threat. If you refer to strength, then yes. Without a doubt. If Ainz Ooal Gown decides to turn his power against Re-Estize, we would be hard-pressed to defeat him. I estimate his personal power alone is worth thousands of soldiers, and if he is capable of teleportation, he is most assuredly capable of flight as well, which means pinning him down will be extremely difficult even if we have magic casters on our side to fight against him, which I see as unlikely due to the political climate. But it's not just his strength that concerns me. It's his intentions. I couldn't discern whether he was an ally or an enemy waiting for a specific chance to strike."

    "That's not good. We should find out more about him, don't you think?" Climb asked.

    "We should, but it's hard to track such a man down. I invited him to come to the capital and meet the king, as the king would no doubt reward him for the services done for our kingdom, but alas, he has not arrived yet, and I doubt he'll show up unless it's for some other purpose."

    Climb's expression mirrored Gazef's concern. "What should we do, Sir Gazef? How can we prepare for someone like him?"

    Gazef placed a reassuring hand on Climb's shoulder. "We continue to train, to grow stronger. We stay vigilant and gather as much information as we can about Ainz Ooal Gown and his motives. And most importantly, we stand united. The kingdom must be ready to face any threat, no matter how formidable, and no matter if it's internal or external."

    Climb nodded firmly, determination burning in his eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect Princess Renner and the kingdom, Sir Gazef. I'll keep training and improving."

    Gazef's smile returned, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "I have no doubt you will, Climb. You have the potential to become a great warrior, perhaps even one day standing as a shield for those you care about."

    As they continued their conversation, Climb hesitated before speaking again. "Sir Gazef, if I may, I've been thinking... The nobles, they often act in their own interest rather than the kingdom's. Shouldn't we be more forceful in dealing with them?"

    Gazef's expression grew serious, before his eyes darted to the left and right. "Climb, what you speak of is a dangerous topic, even here. Yes, it's true that many nobles are self-serving and corrupt, but we must tread carefully. The political landscape is delicate. Acting rashly could do more harm than good."

    "But Sir Gazef," Climb protested, "they hinder our efforts and put the kingdom at risk. We can't just stand by and let them continue."

    Gazef shook his head. "I understand your frustration, Climb, but the reality is more complicated. We need the support of the nobles to maintain stability. If we push too hard, we risk creating more enemies than allies. It's a delicate balance. And besides, it's not all of them who are like that. There's good and decent nobles, they just don't tend to attract attention."

    Climb's shoulders slumped slightly, but he nodded in understanding. "I see, Sir Gazef. I'll do my best to navigate this carefully."

    Gazef placed a hand on Climb's shoulder. "Good. Remember, strength isn't just about fighting. It's also about knowing when to use that strength and when to show restraint. We're warriors, but we're also protectors of the kingdom. Our duty is to serve and safeguard our people, even if it means making difficult choices."





    Megaera and Hector had arrived in Baharuth just before dawn, the bustling city still shrouded in the early morning mist. The grandeur of the capital was unlike anything Megaera had ever seen. Towering buildings of stone and glass, streets filled with merchants and travelers, and the ever-present aura of magic that seemed to hang in the air.

    "Impressive, isn't it?" Hector remarked, his eyes scanning the cityscape with a mixture of awe and determination.

    "Indeed," Megaera replied, her thoughts already drifting towards the challenges that lay ahead at the Imperial Magic Academy.

    They navigated through the busy streets, making their way towards the academy. The closer they got, the more the city seemed to transform. The buildings grew grander, the streets cleaner, and the people more refined. It was clear they were entering a different part of Baharuth, a place reserved for the elite and the powerful. Yet, despite the location of the Academy itself, she knew that in that place, only skill was necessary. Whether one was nobleborn or common did not matter.

    By the time they reached the academy gates, the sun had fully risen, casting a golden light over the impressive structure. The academy, renowned for its rigorous standards and unparalleled education in the arcane arts, stood as a beacon of prestige and power. Acceptance into the academy was a coveted honor, restricted primarily to Baharuth citizens on scholarships. Non-citizens faced an additional hurdle: securing a residency permit, a process as daunting as the academy's entrance exams themselves.

    Megaera, determined and resolute, stood among the aspiring magic casters. The conversations with her fellow travelers on the road here constantly played out in her mind, filling her with doubt, but puffed up her chest, faking confidence until it was indistinguishable from the real thing.

    Her eyes took in the grand architecture of the academy, a testament to centuries of magical mastery and academic excellence. The towering spires and intricately carved stonework seemed to hum with latent power.

    The academy grounds were filled with hopefuls, all eager to prove their worth. The entrance examinations had recently been extended, with an additional layer of challenge: a duel. Applicants would have to demonstrate their magical prowess not just through written exams and practical tests, but also by facing off against each other in combat.

    As Megaera walked towards the main hall, she overheard whispers about the burning mansion from the previous night. The rumors spread quickly, as did the outlandish tales of what exactly happened, why it happened, and to whom it happened.

    The incident had created quite a stir, with rumors of malicious actors spreading like wildfire. Unbeknownst to her, Grand Master Fluder Paradyne, the very person who had founded the Imperial Magic Academy, had taken an interest in the disturbance, hoping it might reveal a new source of magical potential.

    Inside the main hall, the sense of awe deepened. The walls were lined with portraits of past graduates and esteemed faculty, but one figure stood out above all—the Grand Master Fluder Paradyne. The reverence towards him was palpable, his presence a constant reminder of the heights they aspired to reach.

    The written exams began, testing their theoretical knowledge of magic. Megaera moved her quill swiftly, her mind sharp and focused. Questions ranged anywhere between how many types of magic there were, how many tiers of magic there were, the average time to learn a spell to historical questions about great magic casters and mighty beasts. After the written tests, they moved to the practical exams, where their magical abilities were pushed to the limit. Megaera felt a mixture of excitement and nerves as she showcased her skills, determined to stand out among her peers. All low level-spells, but necessary for any aspiring magic caster.

    As the day progressed, the final challenge loomed large: the duel. The applicants were paired off, and Megaera found herself facing a confident and plain-looking young man named Marcellus. The duel was not just a test of power, but of strategy and skill. Megaera's heart pounded as she stepped into the arena, ready to prove her worth.

    The dueling ground was a circular arena, surrounded by the watchful eyes of instructors and fellow applicants. Their duel was not the first that hour, nor would it be the last. As a matter of fact, combatants were not given any knowledge on who and when they would be fighting. They would all be gathered and observe the fighting, and once the duel between one pair was over, the announcer would announce the next.

    Who was permitted entry and who was not was a mystery, as the results were not revealed instantly. Would Megaera be accepted if she lost the duel? Would she be accepted even if she did?

    The thoughts rushed around in her mind, anxiety filling her, her mind running frantically.

    The ground was marked with runes designed to absorb and nullify excessive magical force, ensuring the safety of the participants. Spells could not progress past an invisible barrier, though people themselves could leave or enter at will, though leaving would constitute an immediate surrender. A young blue-haired woman had lost the previous fight, as the man that fought her conjured up a rather devastating looking chunk of stone that moved at incredible speed. The stone's destination was aimed right at her head, and would likely have killed her, had it not been for the arena's protection, and the girl jumping backwards out of bounds, thus saving her head at the cost of forfeiting the fight.

    Would this fight be much the same?

    Megaera and Marcellus took their positions at opposite ends, the tension in the air palpable.

    "Begin!" an instructor called out, and the duel commenced.

    Marcellus was the first to act, raising his hands and speaking quickly. A small bolt of fire formed between his palms and shot towards Megaera. She responded swiftly, drawing upon her training. With a wave of her hand, she conjured a shield of shimmering pink energy, the fireball splashing harmlessly against it.

    Not wasting a moment, Megaera countered with a spell of her own. She focused her energy and launched a bolt of blue arcane energy towards Marcellus. He rolled to the side, the bolt narrowly missing him and passing him by until it dissipated harmlessly against the arena's barrier.

    The duel continued with a flurry of low-level spells. Marcellus conjured a gust of wind, attempting to throw Megaera off balance, which succeeded, but didn't do much, as Marcellus failed to launch a coup de grace in time. She quickly scrambled back on her feet before summoning a ray of frost, sending them flying towards her opponent. Marcellus easily blocked it with a shield spell.

    Seeing that his straightforward attacks were not enough, Marcellus changed tactics. He chanted an incantation, summoning a spectral wolf. The ethereal creature appeared beside him, its glowing eyes fixed on Megaera.

    The wolf lunged at Megaera, its jaws snapping. Megaera reacted quickly, her hands igniting with magical flames. "[Burning Hands]!" she shouted, thrusting her palms forward. A cone of fire erupted from her hands, engulfing the spectral wolf. The creature howled in agony before dissipating into a cloud of smoke.

    "Impressive," Marcellus remarked, a hint of respect in his voice. "You're surprisingly competent."

    Megaera nodded, her eyes focused. "You're not bad yourself."

    Marcellus, undeterred, began another incantation. This time, he summoned a spectral crow, its dark form cawing menacingly as it swept towards Megaera's eyes. Megaera remained calm, her eyes narrowing as she focused. "[Magic Missile]," she intoned, and two darts of magical energy shot forth from her hand, homing in on the crow. The missiles struck the spectral bird, shattering it into fragments of light.

    "Quick thinking," Marcellus acknowledged, a slight smile on his lips.

    "You too," Megaera replied, her expression determined.

    As the duel wore on, it became clear that both Megaera and Marcellus were well-matched in skill and determination. The crowd watched in hushed anticipation, each spell casting a glow over the arena. Despite their novice status, the two duelists demonstrated impressive control and creativity with their magic. After all, compared to those who could cast no magic at all, they were very impressive. Reaching even the 1st tier of magic was considered a success, and the 2nd tier even more so.

    Megaera decided it was time to change tactics. She raised both her hands in the air before she released a burst of blinding light, a simple yet effective spell designed to disorient.

    Marcellus raised his arm to shield his eyes, momentarily blinded. Seizing the opportunity, Megaera closed the distance between them by a few steps and used [Magic Missile]. Seeing as he could not block the spell using [Shield], nor could he dodge [Magic Missile] like he could dodge projectile spells such as [Firebolt] by pure dumb luck, the two bolts collided with his body, and he cried out in pain but remained standing.

    Not one to be outdone, Marcellus mimicked her and used a blinding light to confuse his opponent again. Megaera blinked rapidly, trying to regain her vision. In her disoriented state, she hastily cast [Ray of Frost], sending the icy spell towards where she thought Marcellus was standing. The spell hit, but the target dissipated into nothingness—it was an illusion.

    Realizing she had been deceived, Megaera turned just in time to see a terrifyingly quick bolt of water hurtling towards her. With no time to react, she froze on the spot. The spell struck her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her and sending her to the ground. She gasped for air, her hand clawing at the ground, and her body aching from the impact.

    One blow, one devastating blow, and that's all it took to end the fight.

    Megaera lifted her head, and saw the victor of the fight. He stood over her, extending a hand. "Surrender, Megaera. You've fought well."

    Megaera, recognizing the end of the duel, nodded. "I surrender," she said, taking his hand and allowing him to help her to her feet.

    The crowd erupted in applause as the instructor stepped forward to declare the winner. "The duel is over! Marcellus is the victor!"

    Despite her disappointment, Megaera managed a respectful nod. "Well fought," she acknowledged.

    Marcellus smiled, appreciating her sportsmanship. "You too, Megaera. But do you know why you lost?"

    She shook her head. "Because you tricked me?"

    "Well, there's that. But there are three main reasons. First, you didn't expect me to use subterfuge during the fight, despite my earlier summons showing I wasn't willing to fight fair."

    "And the second thing?"

    "Certain spells, especially offensive ones, do more than just raw damage—they have additional effects based on their nature. Fire heats the air, burns cloth, and can cauterize wounds. Frost can make the terrain slick, reduce visibility, or cut as well as steel. Water, much like stone, has physical weight. When something heavy collides with your stomach, it knocks the air out of you. If I had hit you with a firebolt, it would hurt more, but you probably would have still been able to continue the fight. Without air, though? Tough luck doing anything."

    She nodded, her eyes widening as she realized the simplicity of the concept she had overlooked.

    "And the last point?"

    "You didn't risk enough, or perhaps you wanted to spare me pain. When I was blinded, you should have gone for Ray of Frost, even if there was a chance I could dodge by accident."

    "Risk... Are you saying I can't be a good magic caster without taking risks?"

    "You probably had to risk a few things just to come here, but do you know who risked more? He did." Marcellus nodded toward someone with his head.

    As the duels concluded, a murmur spread through the hall. Fluder Paradyne had appeared, his wise eyes scanning the crowd. The academy members straightened, their respect for the Grand Master evident in their every movement. Megaera felt her heart skip a beat as she caught sight of him. There was a magnetic quality to Fluder, an aura of immense power and deep wisdom.

    Fluder observed the duels with a discerning eye, searching for the spark of exceptional talent. When his gaze fell upon Megaera, she sensed a flicker of disappointment, almost imperceptible but unmistakable. Clearly, she was not what he was looking for, though he quickly masked his emotions behind a calm, composed demeanor. But when she saw that he had that exact same gaze when he looked at every other student, she didn't know what to think of it.

    The day ended with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. Megaera had passed the initial tests, and had a good showing in the duel even though she lost in the end, but the journey ahead was clear. The reverence from the academy members, the hushed whispers of awe from the applicants, all served to underscore the significance of the path she had chosen.

    As the sun set, casting a golden glow over the academy grounds, Megaera felt a renewed sense of determination. She knew this was just the beginning. The path to greatness was fraught with trials, but she was prepared to face them all. The academy's gates, once imposing and daunting, now symbolized the start of her journey. With resolve burning brightly within her, Megaera stepped forward, ready to carve her own destiny within the hallowed halls of the Imperial Magic Academy.

    Of course, that was assuming she was even accepted into the Academy… Something she wouldn't even know about until tomorrow.

    But tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, she would find out where her destiny leads.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 18 - Iuramentum Fidelitatis
  • Threadmarks
    • Iuramentum Fidelitatis​

    After dropping off the elf girl back in my home in Nazarick, it was a straightforward task to return to the auction house using [Greater Teleportation]. In an instant, I was back in that disgusting den of sin where so much misery was born, where men and women were traded like dried bits of goat meat at the market. The guard presence was diminished, as nothing was being sold at that time, and the auction house was closed.

    My sudden appearance in mid-air startled the guards. They stared at me, dumbfounded, before one of them finally found his voice.

    "Who are you? How did you get here?" he demanded, gripping his weapon tightly.

    I answered by launching a [Fireball] directly at him, incinerating him on the spot. The remaining guards quickly drew their weapons, but they were no match for me. I moved through them like a shadow, my strikes precise and lethal. One guard attempted to swing his sword, but I effortlessly dodged and slammed my fist into his chest, shattering his armor and sending him sprawling.

    Another guard tried to attack from behind, but I spun around and delivered a swift kick to his head, snapping his neck. The rest of the guards hesitated, fear evident in their eyes, but their fate was already sealed. Within moments, all the enemy combatants lay dead, their lifeless bodies strewn across the floor.

    The owner of the auction house, hearing the commotion, appeared just as I punched my hand through a guard's chestplate. His eyes widened in horror as he watched me pull my bloodied hand free, the guard collapsing to the ground.

    He turned to run, but I used [Greater Teleportation] again and appeared right in front of him, blocking his escape.

    "Please, have mercy!" he pleaded desperately, pissing himself as he begged like a dog, prostrated with his ugly nose pressed against the floor.

    My response was simple. "Write me a list of every person you've ever sold a slave to, who they are, where they live, what they look like, and I'll be merciful."

    "How merciful?" He asked with a whimper.

    "...You get to live." I blinked at his question.

    "And my business? I've worked… v-very hard to preserve it."

    This man… A unique specimen, truly.

    "Did you preserve your morality as well as your coin? If you had been diligent, you would have been able to have both. And then I would not be here." I answered him.

    "Morality? In this economy?" The man answered me.


    His pure unrestrained greed and lack of shame was humorous. I decided then that he'd live, purely as a lesson to others.

    "Start writing or I'll take an eye." I responded and the man's fat forehead started sweating even more.

    "But there are so many! You cannot expect me to remember them all!"

    "It's a good thing you have records here, no? And besides, if you do not remember, I will simply dig through your memories until you do," I replied.

    At that point, the man nodded and began thanking me for being so generous.

    He set out and began digging through his records like a madman searching for gold—in this case, the gold being his prolonged existence. My presence looming over his shoulder certainly contributed to the speed at which he worked. Eventually, he found a big, fat book with over a hundred names inside.

    I took it from his hands, opened it, and began to read. The names meant nothing to me.

    "I do not know who these people are. I do not know anything about them," I told him.

    "Please let me elaborate, great one," the man said sheepishly. "I will write down what they do, what they look like approximately, which slaves I sold them, and where they live. That should help you in your… endeavor."

    "Make it so," I responded, handing the book back to him. He began writing furiously with his quill, listing the names of doomed men in his book of degeneracy. Some time later, he finished his work and bade me to check it.

    "Here you have Alonsus Phallusarov, Minister of Stoneworks. He lives in a big mansion in the Noble Row, not far from the Sunrise Gate," he explained, pointing to the man's name in his book. "He's an old man, nearing 60, with receded white hair. He often visits the Temples if I recall correctly. I sold him a male elf slave three months ago for 170 gold coins, as you can see here. Everything is explained in detail."

    I took the book and quickly flipped through the pages before putting it back in my inventory.

    "Well…" I looked at the man, his form shrinking under my gaze. "What to do with you?"

    "Benjamin. Benjamin Dover, great one."

    "I didn't ask," I said. The words stung him, and he shrunk back even more. Now, what to do with this man? I said I would be merciful if he helped me, which he did, as this little book will undoubtedly help me gather the other slaves much faster, but he shouldn't get off scot-free.

    "Indeed. I just have two questions for you. The first is this: castration or blinding? The second: your tongue or your hand?"

    "What?"

    "You get to live. Now the question is what do you want to lose. You're an evil bastard, you know that, right? I don't want your line to plague this world any longer, and leaving you clueless, forever blinded, is also a fitting punishment, but both at the same time is a bit too much. So you get to choose: your cock or your eyes."

    "But that's—"

    "And your tongue has spoken many evil things, speaking of living, breathing sentient beings as nothing more than bits of meat. Thus, you have no need of it. And your hand has reaped much gold by your evil deeds, so it's better that I cut it off. So, choose: your tongue or your hand?"

    "But you promised me mercy!"

    "This is mercy. I can also drag you back to the place I came from and ensure you are subjected to torment until you die, and even after you die. If I do that, your fate will be much worse than what I offer you now. You will be flayed alive and your organs played with as you lie strapped to a chair. You will be eaten by cockroaches, and once you inevitably die, your soul will be used as fuel to create an undead creature that will live in a perpetual state of torment until the end of time. We could do that, or… you can choose what you want to lose. And perhaps, spend the rest of your miserable life atoning for what you've done. But I doubt it."

    Pure despair was written on the man's face.

    He gulped.



    Work can be draining. Exhausting. Depressing. It's all so… tiresome.

    It's not even the physical aspect of it. It's the mental aspect of what I am doing that is so… taxing.

    Going from one place I have visited to another is easy with the aid of magic, but going to a completely new place? Well… that requires me to have a very good mental image of what it looks like before I use Teleportation, or to have something to lock-on to(like an item or individual I know), or to have the coordinates, or to have the place be in my line of sight. If these conditions are not fulfilled, I have to go there myself. Which is, sort of, what I am doing now. Walking. Aimlessly. I'm not even going toward a specific target in the book.

    Why is this a problem?

    Beyond the fact that my time is limited and I have no desire to spend it flying around Arwintar only to smite the same type of scumbag again and again and again. I have no doubt they'll all be like the birds of a feather.

    I need a quicker, more effective solution.

    But how?

    Hmm… I could… no, that wouldn't work.

    Perhaps I could… No, no, it's too soon.

    Ugh… this is so frustrating.

    Should I seek the input of a third-party? But who?

    Demiurge?

    'Well, having the humans do what you want is easy! All you have to do is have their children be eaten alive in front of their mothers!'

    Albedo?

    'I don't understand why you even bother. The opportunity to die for Nazarick is a far greater glory than they deserve. Now, hurry up and kill all the humans so you can give me advice on how to seduce Lord Ainz before that vampire slut.'

    Shalltear?

    'Hurr durr, look at me, I'm Shalltear, the strongest Guardian! Never mind how my head is filled with cobwebs and the only things I'm proficient in are 50 variations of sexual immorality.'

    No, advice from Nazarick won't help.

    Perhaps a change of scenery is necessary? A change of topic as well? Perhaps I should focus less about slavery and how it is wrong, and more about working for Nazarick and acquiring minions that will help me in taking over this nation.

    Yeah, that sounds right.

    But where to?

    The temples? No, definitely not. I've had enough of priests this week.

    The Imperial Palace? They could have defenses, they probably do have defenses, perhaps even powerful enough to prevent me from sneaking around at ease.

    The Magic Academy? That… does not sound like a bad idea actually.

    To the Academy, then.



    As I walked through the streets of Arwintar, my thoughts were on the Academy. The rumors I'd heard about its arcane secrets intrigued me. This journey was about understanding the Academy's role and perhaps gaining insights that would be beneficial in my broader quest. It was a diversion, a break from the relentless pursuit of slavers and other evildoers.

    Passing through the bustling streets, I was lost in my own world, analyzing the data I had gathered and strategizing my next move. Suddenly, a familiar figure caught my eye. It was Megaera, the girl I met while traveling via caravan to Arwintar, walking purposefully towards the Academy, her demeanor filled with an anxious energy.

    "Megaera?" I called out, my voice slicing through the noise of the city.

    She turned, her eyes widening in surprise. "Daya? What are you doing here?"

    "I could ask you the same thing," I replied, with a hint of amusement. "I'm on my way to the Academy. I've heard interesting things about it. And you?"

    "I'm heading there too," she said, a bit flustered. "I'm here to check the results of the entrance exams. I wasn't expecting to run into you."

    "Lucky coincidence," I said, falling into step beside her. "May I escort you there?"

    Megaera's surprise quickly turned to gratitude. "Of course. I'd appreciate the company."

    As we walked, I couldn't help but notice the way Megaera seemed more relaxed in my presence. We chatted about various things—her concerns about the Academy, her hopes for the future, the testing she underwent yesterday during her entrance application, and my reasons for visiting. Her nervousness was palpable, but she was doing a good job of hiding it.

    The Academy came into view, its towering spires and grand architecture a stark contrast to the surrounding cityscape. We approached the main building, where the results were posted. I accompanied Megaera to the bulletin board, where a small crowd had gathered, eagerly scanning the lists.

    As we approached the bulletin board, I was keeping a casual watch on the surroundings when I noticed a rather old man dressed like a stereotypical wizard. He commanded respect by his very presence. I knew instantly who he was, even though I had never met him before. This was Fluder Paradyne, rumored 6th tier magic caster and servant of the Bloody Emperor, and he was weaving through the crowd with a sense of urgency. His eyes were intense, as if he was hunting for something—or someone—with a single-minded focus.

    Megaera's voice broke through my thoughts. "I found it!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy. "I've been accepted!"

    "Congratulations," I replied, trying to ignore the prickling sensation at the back of my neck as Fluder's gaze fixed on me.

    Before Megaera could react further, Fluder's demeanor changed abruptly. His eyes locked onto mine with a penetrating intensity, and he made a beeline towards us. The crowd seemed to part for him, as though his presence commanded an unspoken respect.

    Without a word, Fluder reached us and, with a surprising forcefulness, grabbed both Megaera's and my hands. His grip was firm, and there was no room for resistance.

    "Come with me," he said, his voice a low but urgent whisper, laced with a sense of command. He pulled us away from the crowd, moving with purpose and determination.

    I exchanged a glance with Megaera, her expression one of confusion and mild alarm, but I gave a small nod, signaling that I was fine with following his lead. We were swiftly led through a series of corridors, away from the bustling areas of the Academy, until we reached a secluded room.

    Fluder opened the door and ushered us inside, shutting it behind him with a decisive thud. The room was sparsely furnished but private, providing the perfect setting for an uninterrupted conversation.

    Once we were alone, Fluder released our hands and took a step back, his eyes never leaving me. His gaze was a mix of awe and calculation, as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle he had long been obsessed with.

    Now that we were in the secluded room, Fluder's urgency turned into a fervent curiosity. He paced back and forth for a moment before focusing intently on me, his eyes brimming with an almost desperate need for answers.

    "Tell me," he began, his voice trembling with excitement, "where did you learn your magic? How did you come by such power? I've spent my entire life seeking the limits of magical knowledge, and now I find someone like you—an enigma, a beacon of potential. I must know everything."

    Megaera glanced between us, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. She was clearly puzzled by Fluder's extreme reaction, her eyes darting between him and me. "Daya, who is this?" she asked softly, still trying to make sense of the situation.

    I gave her a reassuring nod before turning back to Fluder, who was practically quivering with anticipation. His gaze was unwavering, his whole demeanor radiating an almost fanatical intensity.

    Fluder took a step closer, his voice dropping to an almost reverent whisper. "Please, share with me your knowledge. I am ready to do anything to gain even a fraction of what you possess. I swear my allegiance, my service—anything you require. Just... enlighten me."

    I could feel the weight of his desperation, and it made me pause for a moment. There was something both amusing and unsettling about his fervor. I spared at glance at Megaera, who looked absolutely confused at the events that were unfolding, before I decided to test just how far his obsession with magical knowledge went.

    Raising my hand slowly, I clenched it into a fist. In an instant, the room's vibrant colors dimmed, leaving everything in a monochrome state. The sounds ceased, and even the smallest details-like the owl in its cage and the fly buzzing around the room-were frozen mid-motion. Fluder's eyes widened in shock as he witnessed the phenomenon.

    Fluder saw all this, and his response was swift and decisive. He dropped to his knees. The man was in a state of utter disbelief and reverence. His eyes were locked onto me with a mixture of awe and worship. He was practically drooling, tears streaming down his face as he looked up at me, his voice barely a whisper.

    "Holy Goddess! Unfathomable One! Ruler of the Abyss!" Fluder exclaimed, his voice trembling with every word. "Are you of the 8th tier!? No, this... this must be beyond that! The 9th tier? No, no, it's even greater than that! The 10th tier, the abyss of magic! It's beyond my wildest dreams!"

    He continued to prostrate himself, his forehead slamming against the ground, his entire body trembling with awe. Fluder's hands were clenched tightly, his body quaking as he spoke of his devotion and desperation. He had been alone and self-taught for so long, his only guidance coming from old tomes and his own relentless pursuit of knowledge. The mere sight of my abilities, of me easily commanding one of the primordial forces of existence to stop at my will, was enough to shatter his previous understanding of magic.

    "I've spent my entire life in pursuit of knowledge," he murmured, his voice quivering. "I once worshipped a god of magic in my youth, hoping for a glimpse of such power. But this—this is beyond anything I could have imagined. To meet you, to witness this... it must be destiny. I am yours to command, your servant in every way."

    Megaera, frozen in time, remained suspended in her surprised expression, her confusion evident as she stood unmoving. The room's silence was profound, marked only by Fluder's fervent declarations and my own internal contemplation.

    I let my wings remain unfurled, their radiance contrasting sharply with the monochrome world. The sheer brilliance of my display seemed to amplify Fluder's reverence, and I could see how deeply he had longed for a master to guide him.

    I took a deep breath, trying to balance my own amusement with the gravity of the situation. "Fluder," I began, "your devotion is noted. I had hoped to speak with you and see if you could be a potential ally. It seems that our meeting was indeed fated."

    Fluder's eyes widened further at my words, his voice a trembling whisper. "Fated... Yes, it must be. I swear my allegiance to you, now and forever! I will give you everything I have, and everything I am! I am even willing to become your perpetual slave if you will just teach me!"

    At his words, I frowned for a brief moment. I disliked the term "slave," but I did not chastise him for it. Fluder's desperation was palpable, and his willingness to offer such an oath spoke volumes about his dedication.

    With a sigh, I addressed him, my voice steady. "Very well. I accept your oath of fealty. Take my hand."

    Fluder's head lifted slowly, his eyes filled with both hope and trepidation. He extended his hand, and I reached out, taking it gently. With a final, decisive gesture, I invoked [Greater Teleportation]. In an instant, we disappeared from the room, leaving behind the astonished Megaera and the now still room, which seemed to reverberate with the echoes of the extraordinary events that had just unfolded.

    AN: Minion get!
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Whilst Ramiel does some house cleaning of Slave owners in E Rantel Underworld belly, which one of the owners is luckily enough to have his life sparred ( even though losing a hand or eye, well be made his choice after Ramiel listed her torturous choices in front of him at the auction.
    Meantime, Ramiel meets with Megara have again at the Academy, but Fluder and Ramiel have their fated meeting after Megara made introduction and Fluder fanatical devotion is palpable after Ramiel reveals a glimpse of her primordial power at the meantime.
    Continue on
    Cheers!
     
    Chapter 19 - Brani se
  • Threadmarks
    • Brani se​


    As the world reformed around them, Remiel and Fluder found themselves on a serene, isolated hilltop. The mid-day sun cast a golden glow over the landscape, highlighting the vibrant greens of the grass and the distant, rolling hills. Birds chirped in the background, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees. It was a peaceful setting, a stark contrast to the intensity of their previous encounter.

    Fluder, still in awe from their previous exchange, took a moment to steady himself. His eyes scanned the horizon before returning to Remiel, who stood beside him with an air of calm confidence.

    "Last night," Fluder began, his voice filled with reverence, "when I saw but a glimpse of your power for the first time, I rushed toward your location, hoping to meet you. I was too late. I lost hope that I would meet you again."

    "Last night?" Remiel replied, raising an eyebrow.

    "That fool at the mansion," Fluder explained. "I do not know why you went there, or why you decided to end his life, but it must have been for a good reason, for someone like you can make no mistakes."

    Remiel's expression remained neutral as she listened. "And how did you know I was at the mansion?"

    Fluder hesitated for a moment before responding. "My eyes... they are special. They allow me to see the magical potential of all beings, and all magical items. Yesterday I saw your power radiating across the city, and when you stopped moving, presumably when you arrived at the mansion, I set off towards your location. I knew I had to find you."

    Remiel looked deep in thought for several seconds before nodding thoughtfully. "I see. That sounds like it could be very useful. Your eyes are indeed remarkable."

    They stood in silence for a moment, the tranquil surroundings providing a stark contrast to the weight of their conversation. Eventually, Remiel broke the silence.

    "Tell me about yourself, Fluder. Where are you from? How strong are you? Where did you learn magic, and how old are you?"

    Fluder took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I am over two hundred years old, born in Belmous Village, a place far to the south of here that was part of a useless and weak country. That place as well as that country were both destroyed by the Demon God of Insects, but luckily I survived the initial attack on my village. From there, I set off to find my way in life. As a young lad, I quickly learned magic from various teachers but was initially too weak to seek revenge or delve deeply into the arcane. My growth in wisdom and knowledge was a slow, grueling process, without shortcuts or guidance from grand tomes or ancient teachers."

    Remiel listened intently, her gaze never leaving Fluder. "And what of your current strength?"

    "I have reached the highest tier of magic known in this world, the sixth tier. I am also knowledgeable in the three magical arts, those being arcane, divine, and spiritual magic, and I know a more than a fair bit about various subjects such as divination, enchanting, necromancy, illusion, and so on and so forth, but a lot of that is merely things I know that can happen, but not things I myself can do." Fluder took a deep breath before continuing. "By all rights I am the most learned human magic caster. But I have always felt there was more, something beyond my reach. I built the Imperial Magic Academy alone, driven by my quest for truth and power. Despite my efforts, I am disappointed by my chosen disciples, none of whom I deem fit to inherit my legacy."

    "And where do you come from, Great One?" Fluder asked, his curiosity evident. "How did you gain your strength?"

    Remiel smiled enigmatically. "I was merely created this way."

    "Created?" Fluder repeated, stunned.

    "Yes," Remiel replied. "I am not of this world."

    Fluder's eyes widened in amazement. "Can you tell me more?"

    "Another time," Remiel said, her tone indicating the subject was closed for now.

    Remiel then knelt and began to write symbols in the dirt. Fluder watched with keen interest as she formed the letters of the Latin alphabet.

    "This," Remiel explained, "is the Latin alphabet. Many of the books you will need to read are written in this script. It is not a divine language, but it is the basis of dozens of written languages."

    Fluder leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. "Is this alphabet used in magic?"

    Remiel smiled. "Yes, it is. The knowledge I intend to share with you comes from many different scripts, but the Latin alphabet is the most widely used one. Well, it is one of the many human alphabets, at any rate. We are better off tackling those before moving on to the scripts of other races."

    Fluder looked at the symbols with fascination. "Are these letters divine in nature?"

    "No," Remiel replied. "The books of knowledge I will give you are written in many different scripts. The Latin alphabet is just the most widely used one because it forms the basis of many written languages. I would dare say that if you can't use recognize and read the symbols, you are functionally illiterate, which simply will not do for one of my servants."

    Fluder absorbed this information, nodding slowly. "I understand. And you said your name was Daya, correct?"

    Remiel paused, her expression thoughtful.

    "Daya is merely a translation of one of the titles my father gave me. I cannot give out my true name to everyone, at least not yet, as it would potentially compromise me. My nature as an angel prevents me from uttering lies, so I am forced to use technicalities when concealing my identity. When I say, 'you can call me Daya,' it really means 'you can call me Radiant.' So, you can call me whatever you want. Daya, Remiel, Teacher, it makes no difference to me."

    Fluder nodded, absorbing her words. "An angel, you say?" he mused, his eyes wide with wonder. "But all the angels I have ever seen were no more than mindless summons."

    Remiel chuckled softly. "Comparing those angels to me is like comparing a candle to the sun. I am a Seraphim, a higher order of angel. "

    Fluder's eyes gleamed with a mixture of awe and intellectual curiosity. "A Seraphim... I do not know what that word truly means, but it is evident that you are infinitely greater than those mindless puppets. Truly incredible. But tell me, what are your goals, your ambitions?"

    Remiel simply smiled in response.

    They continued their conversation, and Remiel's curiosity turned towards Fluder's knowledge of the current world. "Tell me, Fluder, what do you know about the yearly war with Re-Estize, and the Bloody Emperor's reforms?"

    Fluder's expression softened, a hint of affection in his voice. "Emperor Jircniv is a remarkable leader. I have raised him since he was a boy, and I made sure to shape him into a wise ruler. His reforms have brought progress and stability to the empire. The yearly war with Re-Estize serves to keep the nobility in check and ensure the military remains strong, as well as eventually pave the way for a complete conquest of Re-Estize. Jircniv's methods may be harsh, but his love for the empire and his dedication to its improvement are undeniable. One needs only look at the state of the nation as proof. Before his ascent, Baharuth and Re-Estize were indistinguishable, but now they are night and day."

    "And what of the subject of slavery? I have to say, I am rather disgusted by it." Remiel asked.

    "The Emperor has taken steps to regulate and, in some cases, abolish certain forms of slavery," Fluder explained. "His personal opinion is that it is stupid and damages the coffers of the state as well as causing unnecessary strife. But it remains a deeply ingrained institution in our society. And by our society, I mean sapient beings throughout the region."

    "Throughout the region? Explain." Remiel asked, a hint of fury seeping into her voice.

    "Re-Estize banned slavery, but that is merely on paper. The Roble Holy Kingdom does not practice slavery, but their peasants are basically slaves anyway. Slavery is practiced in the Theocracy, as you probably know. It is not practiced in the Argland Council Nation, which lies far to the north-west, nor is it practiced in the Draconic Kingdom, which is our neighbor to the east, but for different reasons. Within Argland live many races, whereas the Draconic Kingdom is too poor and desperate to practice slavery on humans or elves. The dwarves in their mountains… they don't have slavery, if I recall correctly, but we haven't heard from them in a few years, so that may have changed. And the Elf Kingdom does practice slavery, or rather their monarch does. The Elf King is known for his cruel treatment of his people, and he is often rumored to take women against their will into his harem, and once they enter they rarely leave, living or dead."

    Remiel exhaled deeply. "That… is problematic."

    "As you say. Of course, these are the higher races. The beastmen are even worse. But little information comes here of their dealings and practices. And what little comes is often brutal. Child sacrifices, vile rituals, breeding farms, and possibly much worse…"

    "Beastmen… guess that's also something I have to deal with…" Remiel muttered. "Enough about that topic for now. Tell me about the Slane Theocracy?"

    "They are a powerful and secretive nation," Fluder said. "Their influence is vast, and they hold a deep-seated belief in human supremacy. They are also known for their advanced magic and summoning techniques. They've made numerous offers and entreatments toward me, to get me to join their nation, but I've always declined."

    "Why?"

    "Apart from the fact that they are proven liars? I saw no reason to sacrifice my freedom for something I would have no guarantee of getting. They promised they would give me knowledge, but I've never seen them hold up their end of the bargain in all my years."

    Remiel nodded thoughtfully. "Very well then. Back to the Elf Kingdom. What do you know of the Elf King?"

    Fluder's expression darkened. "He is a tyrant who rules with an iron fist. His cruelty is legendary, and his magical prowess is formidable. I know that he has a pet golem that is quite destructive, and I also know that he rarely takes to the field during their war, but when he does, he eradicates his opponents. It is even possible he is stronger than I am."

    "Is he stronger than me?"

    "I doubt it. The truly strong do not waste their time on idle pleasures or degeneracy like he does." Fluder replied.

    "How accurate is this information?"

    "Very. The Emperor employs many spies in his service. A great number of them do not know there are other spies of the Emperor near them, and an even greater number do not even know they work for the Emperor himself, though they probably suspect. The spy-network the Emperor has, as well as the various merchants and traders that bring news to the Imperial Court, keep the Emperor well-appraised of all he needs to know. And as his most trusted advisor, everything he knows, I know."

    Remiel nodded thoughtfully, before letting a moment of silence fall upon the conversation. Afterwards, she began to speak once more.

    "Tell me about things that happened in the past. Tell me about the Six Great Gods, the Eight Greed Kings, and the Thirteen Heroes?" Remiel asked. "Surely someone like you must know the truth, or at least bits of it, compared to what the temples say."

    Fluder's eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and respect. "The Six Great Gods are said to have founded the Slane Theocracy and brought order to a world of chaos."

    "Do you believe they are actually gods?"

    "I know they existed, and were very powerful beings, but beyond that, I could not say."

    Remiel nodded. "Continue."

    "The Eight Greed Kings were powerful beings who ruled the world with an iron fist, their greed ultimately leading to their downfall. It is said that at the height of their power, they ruled much of the known world. There are many ruins of their fallen empire, the greatest being the floating city of Eryuentiu, that gleams like a jewel in the southern deserts."

    The statement caused Remiel to lift an eyebrow. "A floating city in the middle of a desert? We should visit such a place."

    "It may be difficult. It is well defended, and I tried to go there in my youth. But… I believe that you may be capable of entering that place. Who knows what sort of knowledge is hidden away there?" Fluder stroked his beard contemplatively.

    "Interesting. I'll keep that detail in mind. Continue, please."

    "The Thirteen Heroes, on the other hand, are known for their role in defeating the Demon Gods. But much of what is known is shrouded in myth and legend. I have spent my life seeking the truth, but there are still many mysteries. I do know one thing for certain however. At least one of the Thirteen Heroes is still alive."

    The angel's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Oh? And who might that be?" She asked.

    "Rigrit Bers Caurau. She is a member of the Thirteen Heroes and a renowned necromancer. I met her many years ago, when she was still young, and her mastery over the undead was truly awe-inspiring, even then. I have likely equaled or even surpassed her in raw magical power, but I cannot command the undead with the same proficiency she does. It is a skill that requires a different kind of mastery."

    "Was she the strongest among the Thirteen?"

    "No. I could not say who was the strongest objectively, as I did not spend much time with that group, but the three strongest were by far the leader, his sorceress friend, and the platinum-armored knight. I saw them fight once, and they were quite a spectacle. Alas, I have forgotten a decent amount, as unfortunately my mortal mind can only store so much information… Oh, I almost forgot to mention. There were more than Thirteen Heroes. In fact, it was closer to twenty, probably eighteen or so. But those heroes that went unmentioned were… undesirable to mention. Demihumans, or worse. The Slane Theocracy worked day and night to scrub all memory of them. It would not do to have the words 'beastman' and 'hero' in the same sentence unless in between stood also the words 'was killed by'.

    Remiel nodded, absorbing the information. "Interesting. So much knowledge has been lost, by the looks of it.And your disciples?" she asked. "Are any of them promising?"

    Fluder sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "My brightest student, Sophie, is only of the fourth tier and is a bit of a pervert. Another genius, Arche, dropped out due to family issues. Karl, who had incredible potential, died in a failed experiment. None have shown the promise I had hoped for."

    "How did your student die?"

    "The idiot blew himself up. Why do you ask?"

    "Well, it may be possible to bring him back to the land of the living."

    Fluder's jaw dropped.


    "But…how? He's been dead for…years. His bones are the only thing that's left of him."

    "Well, that's why I said 'it may be possible'. It's something I wish to confirm, and soon. But enough about that topic, the boy is as you said, dead. He isn't going anywhere."

    Fluder let out a chuckle. "Indeed. He can wait. A week a month, a year, makes no difference to him. Though I must beg to also be present when you perform that miracle. I have never heard of someone being resurrected despite being dead for years."

    "Well, dear Fluder, stick with me and you'll see and hear plenty of things that you thought were impossible."

    Fluder bowed his head in respect.


    Remiel walked toward a stone and took a seat upon it, before gesturing for the wizened magic caster to come closer. "And what are your goals and ambitions now, Fluder? What do you seek to achieve?"

    Fluder's gaze met Remiel's, filled with a newfound sense of purpose. "I seek to learn from you, to gain the power I have always sought. I am willing to become your student if you will teach me magic. I am willing to provide you with all the knowledge I have gained over my many long years, and to do all that you ask of me."

    Remiel smiled, a rare expression that softened her usual stern demeanor. "Very well. But before you can learn from me, I must learn from you. I must know everything there is to know, not just about Baharuth and its neighbors, but also about you yourself. I need to know how many spells you know, what you can do with them, what kind of magic items are in your possession. In other words, I need to know who Fluder is, before Fluder can become someone else."

    Fluder's eyes were open with wonder and awe at the profound wisdom he had heard. His voice trembling, he spoke.

    "You mean to tell me… that you, you who are so much greater than I am, would willingly learn about myself, about my flaws, just so that you can teach me better?"

    Remiel nodded eagerly. "Of course. What kind of teacher would I be if I did not?"

    "Magnificent… You really are magnificent. I"ll begin writing immediately once we get back to Arwintar. I'll have numerous books detailing everything you wish to know. Baharuth, the history of the world, what I can do. Everything you wish to know, you shall." Fluder said as he bowed his head.

    A small chuckle escaped Remiel's lips. "You may not agree after what is about to happen. I do want to know all those things you mentioned, of course, but I also want to see what you can do with my own eyes."

    Fluder lifted his gaze off the ground, as his steely gray eyes made contact with Remiel's blazing gold. "What do you mean?" He croaked out.

    In response, Remiel extended her hand as it was swallowed up by a living void, a black hole in the fabric of reality, and from it she withdrew what appeared to be a wooden staff, roughly two meters long, plain and undecorated.

    "Defend yourself." She said, and Fluder's heart began to race.





    Fluder took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He knew that facing Remiel, even in a demonstration, would be unlike any challenge he had ever encountered. Raising his hands, he began to layer defensive spell after defensive spell upon himself, which Remiel let him do so freely.

    With each successive cast, Fluder felt less and less naked. Buffs to magical penetration, to his luck, to his resistances, and many more, were applied; one after the other. At last, Fluder cast a protective barrier around himself. Translucent and shimmering with arcane light, it enveloped him like a second skin. He then conjured three orbs of fire, which hovered around him, ready to strike at his command.

    Remiel observed with a keen eye, noting the precision and speed of Fluder's spellcasting. She remained still, her expression unreadable as she waited for him to make the first move.

    With a flick of his wrist, Fluder cast [Magic Missile] and six missiles shot out towards Remiel. The projectiles streaked through the air, unerring in their aim. But before they could reach their target, Remiel raised her staff and drew a quick, precise symbol in the air. A pulse of energy emanated from the staff, and the missiles disintegrated into harmless sparks.

    Fluder's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't hesitate. He quickly followed up with a barrage of ice shards, each one sharp enough to pierce steel. Remiel's response was swift and effortless. She twirled her staff, creating a vortex of wind that caught the ice shards and sent them spiraling away harmlessly. Her movements were fluid, almost dance-like, and Fluder couldn't help but be mesmerized by her grace.

    Realizing that conventional spells were not going to work, Fluder decided to take a different approach. He decided that if he couldn't attack from the front, he'd attack from below. He aimed his hands toward the dirt, and spoke, his voice echoing. "[Chains of Darkness]!"

    The ground beneath him began to tremble, and dark, shadowy tendrils erupted from the earth, snaking their way towards Remiel. The tendrils lashed out, aiming to ensnare her, but Remiel was ready. She tapped the ground with her staff, and a burst of holy light, a divine dome, erupted around her, incinerating the shadowy tendrils. Fluder felt a pang of disappointment, but he pressed on.

    Next, Fluder decided he would try to outnumber his opponent. Summoning a powerful [Stone Golem] from the ground, a towering figure made of stone and earth, the golem lumbered towards Remiel, its heavy footsteps shaking the ground. Fluder buffed the golem, enhancing its strength and durability. Remiel watched the golem approach, her face betraying no emotion. There was not even a hint of fear. The raw confidence served only to strengthen Fluder's devotion.


    As the golem raised its massive fist to strike, she dodged with a swift, elegant movement, sidestepping with no wasted movement. With a single strike of her staff, she shattered the golem's arm, causing it to stagger. Fluder gritted his teeth, channeling more energy into the golem to repair the damage. But there was no time. She struck again, this time aiming for the golem's legs. The stone limbs crumbled under her assault, and the golem collapsed to the ground, and a final blow to the summon's head caused it to crumble and dissolve into mana.

    Breathing heavily, Fluder realized that he was running out of options. He had to admit, even to himself, that he was outmatched. But he refused to give up. Summoning his remaining strength, he began to cast a final, desperate spell. "Vortex of the Void!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the hilltop. A swirling vortex of dark energy appeared above Remiel, threatening to engulf her. Remiel looked up at the vortex, her expression calm and composed. She raised her staff once more, and a brilliant light erupted from its tip, piercing through the darkness. The vortex shuddered and then collapsed, dissipating into nothingness.


    Seeing that this effort was also thwarted, Fluder decided to create some distance. He tried to [Teleport] away but Remiel was faster. She closed the gap between them in an instant, her extended leg aiming straight toward his right shoulder. The sheer speed of the kick was blinding. Fluder barely managed to conjure a shield, the force of her strike sending him stumbling back. Had that blow connected, he had no doubt that it would have broken his arm and shoulder both, and would have been a knock-out in the fight, as any time Fluder would spend healing his arm would be time not spent on defense or offense, and with no summons to occupy his opponent, he would be a sitting duck.

    Regaining his footing, Fluder unleashed a barrage of elemental spells. Fireballs, shards of ice, and bolts of arcane energy erupted from his hands, each one aimed with deadly precision. Remiel danced through the onslaught, her movements fluid and precise, her staff a blur as it deflected and countered each attack.

    Fluder knew he had to escalate. It was time to use his most devastating offensive spell. One he had crafted himself to deal with hordes of beastmen in his youth.

    His weathered hands began moving in the air, as shining blue intricate runes appeared in the air, channeling the essence of the storm itself. Above them, the sky darkened ominously, clouds swirling and coalescing into a vortex of roiling energy.

    All the while, Remiel stood still, a vague sense of intrigue appearing on her face as she observed the sky above her.

    "[Thunderstorm Surge]!" Fluder's voice echoed with arcane authority, commanding the elements to unleash their fury upon Remiel. From the heart of the gathering storm, lightning bolts erupted with deafening cracks, each bolt lancing down with precision toward Remiel.

    Remiel's eyes widened briefly as she faced the onslaught. Without hesitation, she focused her divine energy, forming a barrier of radiant light around herself. The lightning bolts struck with explosive force, the air filled with the acrid scent of ozone as sparks danced across Remiel's protective shield.

    But Fluder's spell was not finished. The Thunderstorm Surge continued its assault, lightning bolts chaining from one target to another, seeking out their foes with unerring accuracy. Remiel gritted her teeth against the onslaught, her shield flickering under the relentless barrage.

    Realizing that the spell would last for quite a while, and perhaps even damage her, her anger was roused. At that point she decided that she had indulged the old man enough. With a decisive gesture, she channeled her own magic in response while pointing at the sky. "Enough!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the storm's fury, as within seconds the dark clouds gave way to the midday sun.

    At that point, Fluder realized just how outmatched he was. "That was my strongest attack…" He mumbled under his breath. At that point he wanted to surrender, but there would be no reprieve until the fight was over. Gathering her divine power, she prepared a counterattack.

    "[Lightning Spear]!" Remiel's voice boomed with authority, resonating with primal force. A spear of golden lightning formed in her outstretched hand, crackling with incandescent power. It pulsed and shimmered, casting stark shadows across the battlefield as it surged toward Fluder.

    Fluder's eyes widened in dread as he saw the approaching spear of lightning. He felt fear, and his life flashed before his eyes. Its brilliance and raw power struck fear into his heart, reminding him of the awesome might wielded by the being before him. With desperate resolve, he conjured a [Wall of Frost], hoping to shield himself from the impending strike.

    The Lightning Spear collided with the ice barrier with cataclysmic force, the impact shattering the fragile frost into a million crystalline fragments. Before the shards had a chance to settle, Remiel was upon him. She had moved with supernatural speed, her form blurring and leaving afterimages as she closed the distance in an instant.

    With a swift, decisive kick, Remiel sent Fluder hurtling into the shattered remnants of his own defensive barrier. Fluder crashed heavily, his body battered and his breath knocked from his lungs. He lay on the ground, dazed and winded, staring up at Remiel with a mixture of awe and resignation.

    Remiel stood over him, her staff still crackling with residual energy. "You fight well, old man," she said, her voice calm and composed. "But you have much to learn."

    As she looked down at Fluder, her expression softened slightly as she saw the pain etched on his face. She knew the toll their intense battle had taken on his aging body. With a gesture of her staff, she channeled divine energy, casting a potent healing spell. Radiant light enveloped Fluder, soothing his wounds and revitalizing his weary frame.

    "[Divine Heal]." Remiel intoned softly, her voice infused with divine power. Golden light shimmered around Fluder, easing his bruises and restoring his vitality. The lingering ache in his bones faded, replaced by a renewed sense of strength and vigor.

    Fluder gasped in relief as the healing magic took effect, warmth spreading through his limbs. He looked up at Remiel with gratitude, realizing the depth of her compassion even in victory. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with relief.

    Remiel's smile softened further, her eyes reflecting understanding and encouragement. "Rest now, Fluder," she said gently.

    "Tomorrow, our work begins in earnest. You will gather the information I require, and in return, I will impart to you the knowledge you seek. Stick with me, follow my guidance, and I promise you will soon be drunk with knowledge."

    As Fluder settled into a comfortable position, a profound sense of determination and anticipation filled him. He knew that his new service to Remiel marked a turning point in his relentless pursuit of magical mastery. The battle had not only tested his skills but had opened his eyes to new possibilities under Remiel's tutelage. With her guidance, he believed he could achieve greatness beyond anything he had imagined before.

    But it did more than that. It was everything he had ever wanted. He had finally found a teacher that he could be proud to call his own.

    AN: Chapter 19. Once Chapter 20 comes out, which should be Sunday Morning, expect the pace of chapters to slow down. I must write this story and there is little time due to a new job and changes in life. I have 10 chapters already pre-cooked which is about a month of chapters which should be fine, I think...
     
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    • Minon Get
    Ramiel tests her newest minon on the battlefield and she proceed to break every preconceived notion about magic he ever had, which Ramiel also potentially bringing bsck to his former student ftom the dead but that's a story for another time.
    Continue on
    Cheers!
     
    I'm surprised she tolerated patronizing a tailor who she knew was a slave owner
     
    Chapter 20 - Orama Tis Katastrofis
  • Threadmarks
    • Orama tis Katastrofis​


    The Theocracy's capital was a place of grandeur and ancient power, its spires reaching toward the heavens as if to grasp divine favor. Commonly called 'Kami Miyako', which means the city of the gods, its true name was Silksuntecks, and it was arguably the greatest city in the world. Law, order, and faith all ruled here and had an iron grip on every part of life.

    Within one of the places of power for those who ruled, hidden from the common man's gaze, The Thousand Leagues Astrologer, a woman of ethereal beauty and profound wisdom, sat within the sanctum of her arcane observatory. Her short, very light brown hair framed a face of serene composure and keen intellect. Her orange eyes, behind purple-framed glasses, reflected her deep connection with the stars. Clad in a female school uniform and carrying a light purple bag with an unknown creature inside, she appeared almost ordinary, but her abilities were anything but. To an outside observer, this girl would be harmless, and perhaps they would be right if they merely considered the ability to do harm as only being able to manifest itself by summoning beasts or throwing fireballs. But knowledge was a power all its own…

    Her observatory, an awe-inspiring dome of crystal and stone, housed countless tomes and relics of ancient power, though that number had been somewhat diminished lately. The central focus was the grand astrolabe, an intricate device of brass and gems, constantly in motion, aligning with the stars and the mysterious forces of the World. It was here, amidst this celestial grandeur, that the Thousand Leagues Astrologer performed her divinations.

    Seated before the astrolabe, she gently placed her hands on its surface, feeling the hum of arcane energy resonating through her fingertips. Her eyes closed in concentration, and her mind reached out across the vast expanse of the world, seeking the threads of fate and the whispers of destiny. The stars above, visible through the transparent dome, twinkled in response, their light converging into the astrolabe, illuminating the room with a soft, radiant glow.

    Her previous encounter with the enigmatic Ainz Ooal Gown during his battle against the Sunlight Scripture had left an indelible mark on her psyche. The sheer magnitude of his power had been unlike anything she had ever witnessed, a black void in her divinations that defied comprehension. The memory of that encounter lingered in her mind, a constant reminder of the limits of her sight and the terrifying might of this being.

    But worst of all, it was the fact that this unknown opponent had measures against her divination… measures that could have killed her had it not been for the aid of the ever-present healers nearby.

    It had become standard policy, for over two centuries now, to have healers on standby whenever the Slane Theocracy performed their divinations, after a Thousand Leagues Astrologer met a rather unfortunate end by being fried alive by lightning after trying to spy on the enigmatic mage who the Theocracy had little information on except that she was very powerful, capable of at least 9th tier magic, and a companion of the Leader of the Thirteen Heroes. Alas, she was dead, as were most of the other members of the Thirteen, so the odds of divination ending in death was low but always greater than zero.

    Thus, the reason for the healers, who were put to work after spying on this 'Ainz Ooal Gown' resulted in an explosion to the face and irreparable damage to many priceless relics.

    As her consciousness drifted across the world, it was drawn to a place of foreboding darkness, the Forest of Tob. The stars whispered of a great upheaval, an ancient power stirring from its slumber. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and she delved deeper, seeking the source of this disturbance. Images began to form in her mind—glimpses of a colossal figure, scales like midnight, eyes burning with malevolent intent. It was the Catastrophe Dragon Lord, a being of immense power and destruction.

    Yet, the vision was unclear, shrouded in a haze of uncertainty. The shadows of the forest seemed to shift and obscure her sight, preventing her from obtaining a clear picture. There were conflicting impressions—at times, it appeared as a mighty dragon, and at others, as a massive, twisted tree, and a few times it appeared as nothing more than an ominous shadow that choked all within its presence by merely existing, and others it was a blinding and searing light that was too bright to even look at. The confusion in her mind mirrored the turmoil in the stars, making it difficult to discern the true nature of the threat.

    Breaking her trance, she opened her eyes, the glow of the astrolabe fading. She rose to her feet, her expression grave and determined. There was no time to waste. The Cardinals would need to be informed. Hopefully, they would see wisdom and deploy The Black Scripture, the Holy Kingdom's elite strike force, immediately. They were the only ones capable of confronting such a formidable foe and uncovering the truth behind these ominous signs. And not only that, they were the only ones also able to move there swiftly enough while avoiding detection.

    Getting an army there in this political climate, with troops bogged down in the Elf Kingdom and the recent failure of the Sunlight Scripture in Re-Estize, would be simply impossible. And even if it were possible, the ramifications of such a move would be catastrophic. No, stealth would be key.

    With swift, graceful movements, she penned a detailed missive, outlining her vision and the dire threat posed by the Catastrophe Dragon Lord—or perhaps the Great Demon Tree, Zytl Q'ae. Her writing was precise and urgent, conveying the gravity of the situation. Once completed, she summoned a trusted courier, one of her personal, and handed him the sealed scroll.

    "Take this to the Cardinals, immediately." She ordered, and the man took the scroll, bowed his head, and sped off immediately.





    Back in E-Rantel…


    The raucous atmosphere of the tavern was alive with laughter, clinking mugs, and the steady hum of conversation. Adventurers of all ranks and backgrounds gathered here to unwind, exchange tales, and drown their woes in ale. Brita, an iron-ranked adventurer with untidy red hair trimmed short for easy movement, sat at a corner table, listening intently to the chatter around her. Her sharp eyes, untamed hair, and wheat-colored skin from long exposure to the sun marked her as a seasoned warrior. Her arms bore solid muscles, and her hands were full of calluses from wielding a sword. Despite all this, there was a certain beauty to her, undeniable, not like that of a spoiled pillow princess, but a woman that would stick with a man through thick and thin.

    At the table next to hers, a group of iron-ranked adventurers was deep in discussion, their voices rising and falling with excitement and skepticism.

    "Did you hear about the monster rampaging in the forest?" one of them, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, said. "Ever since the Wise King disappeared, there's been talk of some creature causing havoc out there."

    A slender man with a mischievous grin scoffed, "You believe those rumors? The Wise King of the Forest was a myth to begin with. Now they're saying there's a monster because it's gone? Sounds like tavern talk to me."

    "It's not a myth! I saw the beast," another adventurer, a young man with wide eyes and a quivering voice, interjected. "Fur white as snow, bigger than a carriage! And Momon was riding it like a horse."

    The slender man looked taken aback. "You saw it yourself? That's... hard to believe."

    A third adventurer, a woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, leaned in. "I've heard similar stories. They say the creature's huge, with glowing red eyes. People are too scared to go near the forest now."

    "People say random shit all the time, most of it isn't even true. Oooh, look, a monster with big red eyes terrorizing the forest. How terrifying. Not! That's literally every monster ever! Every time some random peasant comes to the guild they say the same thing. 'A big scary monster with red eyes is terrorizing me village!' " A forth adventurer, younger than the slender man but quite a bit taller, managed to spit out, imitating a stereotypical peasant accenta the very end. He spoke his words with swiftness and decisiveness, as if it had physically pained him to hold them in for even a time. Once he did, he calmed down, and returned to drinking his ale and eating his salted pork with gusto.

    Brita sipped her ale, her curiosity piqued. She had heard whispers about the forest, but the tales always varied. The disappearance of the Wise King had indeed stirred up a storm of rumors.

    "Calm down mate. Forget the monster," the burly man said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Have you heard about 'Darkness'? That new adventuring group?"

    The slender man chuckled, "You mean the one with Momon, Nabe, and Lupu? They've been making waves, that's for sure. Already reached Platinum rank, can you believe it?"

    The stern-faced woman nodded. "I heard they took down two great monsters from the forest: the Giant of the West and the Serpent of the East. If that's true, they must be incredibly powerful."

    A young woman at the table, with bright eyes and a dreamy expression, sighed. "Momon must be so strong and valorous to achieve such feats. And he must be so handsome! Have you seen him? He's like a hero out of a story."

    One of the men laughed, raising his mug in a mock toast. "To Momon, the hero! And his beautiful companions. Nabe and Lupu are stunning, aren't they? I wonder if he's romantically involved with either of them."

    The slender man smirked. "With both, more likely. Lucky bastard."


    The stern-faced woman rolled her eyes. "Focus on their accomplishments, not their looks. If they really took down those monsters, we should be paying attention to their strength and strategy."

    At that moment, Brita decided to chime in. Her voice was steady and confident as she spoke, her expression thoughtful. "I actually met Momon once. He was the one who accidentally broke my potion when he threw an idiot into my table."

    The table fell silent, and the adventurers turned to look at Brita, intrigued.

    "Seriously?" the burly man asked, leaning in. "What happened?"

    Brita continued, a hint of amusement in her tone. "Yeah. Some random guy tried to start shit with him, but Momon wasn't having it. He threw this man at my table while I wasn't paying attention, and my potion shattered. At first, I was pretty pissed. But he made up for it. Gave me a replacement potion, which turned out to be worth a lot more than the one he broke."

    The young woman's eyes widened. "What kind of potion was it?"

    Brita shrugged. "I didn't know at the time, but it was appraised as being worth eight gold pieces. So, he seems like an alright bloke, despite the mishap."

    The burly man nodded appreciatively. "Well, sounds like he's got some good manners, at least."

    As the conversation continued, the young woman still seemed fascinated. "I'd love to meet him. From all I've heard, he's quite the hero. It must be amazing to see him in action."

    Brita took another sip of her ale, her gaze thoughtful. "From what I saw, he's definitely impressive. And his companions—Nabe and Lupu—they're no slouches either."

    "Less attention on Momon and his group, who are definitely eating well, and more focus on ourselves, and how we're going to put food on the table," one of the adventurers grumbled. "There's talk of a bandit group terrorizing caravans in the vicinity. If Darkness keeps going at this rate, they might take them down too. Now, this can be both good and bad."

    Brita's eyes gleamed with determination. "Maybe we should try to take down that bandit group ourselves," she suggested, her voice steady. "Prove that we're just as capable as Darkness."

    The burly man raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a plan, Brita. But we don't know much about these bandits. Are you sure?"

    Brita nodded, her expression fierce. "I've faced worse than some upjumped bandits. In all likelihood, they're just peasants who've turned to crime. Even if we're outnumbered, with the right team, we can handle it. We might need to recruit a few more hands, but that shouldn't be too difficult."

    The tall man, who had just finished a portion of salted pork, decided to chime in. "If they're halfway decent bandits, they probably have a fortified hideout. We should stock up on supplies, and maybe get some bombs while we're at it. Bombs are useful."

    "Why are you so obsessed with bombs?" asked the thin man sitting across from him.

    "I like blowing shit up," the taller man replied shamelessly, earning a round of chuckles from the group.

    Brita listened, her mind racing with thoughts of the bandit group and the chance to prove her skills. The rise of Darkness was the talk of the town, their rapid ascent a mix of awe and envy. She felt a strong urge to make her own mark, to be part of something legendary.

    "Well, what do you guys say?" Brita asked, a determined edge in her voice. "Want to kill some bandits and make some coin?"

    "Aye, I'm in," the burly man replied with a grin.

    "Sure, why not," another adventurer agreed, raising his mug in a toast.

    With a renewed sense of purpose, the adventurers clinked their mugs together, their spirits high. The promise of action and the chance to make a name for themselves set the tone for their upcoming venture. Brita, feeling a mix of excitement and resolve, knew that this was her chance to step up and prove herself on a grander stage.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 21 - Kabus al-Khalifa
  • Threadmarks
    • Kabus al-Khalifa​


    The moon hung high in the sky as Emperor Jircniv awoke with a start. One of his concubines, her warm body beside him, stirred as he moved. "Stay in bed," she murmured sleepily, but Jircniv shook his head, disentangling himself from the sheets.

    "I will, I just need to relieve myself." he replied, his voice steady despite the unease gnawing at him. Of course, that was a lie. The truth was that he couldn't sleep.

    He decided he'd get some work done while he was awake. It couldn't be more than a few hours from sunrise anyway.

    He dressed quickly, his mind already on the affairs of state he needed to attend to.

    In the dim light, he prepared himself, washing his face in the washbasin. As he looked into the mirror, he froze. A figure stood behind him, its presence sending a chill down his spine. He blinked again, thinking it was some figment of his imagination or a servant waiting for his orders.The reflection was that of a woman, her gaze piercing through the mirror.

    He tried to turn around and see the situation with his own eyes.

    Before he could react, the woman reached out for him, her hand closing around his neck. At that moment, he felt pain and he felt himself being choked.

    "An assassination!?"

    Right as he was about to voice his complaint he was whisked away. The world around him blurred, and in an instant, they were no longer in his chamber. They were thousands of meters in the air above a nameless field, the cold wind biting at his skin.

    "What the…" He thought to himself. Was he… was he in the sky?

    Jircniv struggled to breathe as the enigmatic figure held him aloft, floating in the air without any difficulty, her grip like iron. "Who... who are you?" he choked out.

    "I am Remiel," she replied coldly. "And you mortal, are going to answer my questions."

    Jircniv's mind raced. "What do you want from me?"

    Jircniv gasped for breath as Remiel released her grip, the cold wind biting into his skin as they floated high above the nameless field. His mind whirled, struggling to piece together the implications of this encounter. Here he was, floating in the air despite having no magical power of his own, having a nighttime conversation with someone capable of slipping into his palace and taking him out with ease. Remiel's eyes never left his, her gaze unwavering and intense.

    "You've wronged many people from Re-Estize, Jircniv," Remiel began, her voice steady and unyielding. "People whose lives were shattered by your ambitions. I've met them personally, and they curse your name with every breath they take."

    His skepticism skyrocketed. "You're with them!?" He chuckled. "No, no, I doubt that, those fools despise magic. No, you're not with Re-Estize. Slane, perhaps? Are you with one of the Scriptures?"

    In response, all he got was a blank stare. It seemed that the answer he gave did not please his captor…

    "Try to change the topic again, lie, or evade my questions and I'll circumcise you with one of your golden butter knives."

    Jircniv's expression hardened. He had heard accusations before, but the sheer power and presence of this woman made them sting in a way they hadn't before. And that threat was… quite disturbing.

    "War and conquest have their casualties," he replied, trying to maintain his composure. "Every ruler must make difficult decisions. However, the fall of Re-Estize will ultimately benefit the common man when they are a part of my Empire."

    Remiel's eyes flashed with a cold fire. "Difficult decisions? You've built your Empire on the blood of innocents, enslaved those who opposed you, and crushed those who dared to stand in your way. Your reign has brought suffering to countless lives."

    Jircniv's jaw clenched. "That is slander. The nobles that rebelled were parasites and deserved to be removed, and I have worked day and night to improve the lives of my people, even those who are slaves. Because of those decisions, Baharuth stands strong. The empire thrives. You would have seen it yourself had you walked the streets of Arwintar."

    The answer clearly caught the figure off guard, or at least so it seemed, as the woman didn't respond. Jircniv decided to press his luck. "A man two centuries old, who has seen countless monarchs good and bad, is one of my most trusted advisors. Daily, Fluder himself advocates for me, speaking of my virtues as a ruler. He believes in my vision and my ability to lead. Do you think he is wrong?"

    A smirk tugged at Remiel's lips. "Fluder, the man you rely on so heavily, is now under my control. He speaks highly of you, yes. He admires your intellect, your strategic mind, and your ability to revolutionize Baharuth. He acknowledges the strength you've brought to your empire. Yet, he cast you aside when you were of no use to him. He said, and I quote, 'I swear my allegiance to you, now and forever! I will give you everything I have, and everything I am!' Thus, do not put your trust in him or his words anymore."

    The words clearly caught Jircniv off-guard. The old man had betrayed him? When? How?

    Did it happen a long time ago? Or was it recent. It had to be recent. Was this figure pursuing aggressive expansion? But still… to hear that he had been cast away like that so easily…

    Jircniv's eyes widened slightly. The revelation that Fluder was now allied with Remiel was a blow he hadn't anticipated. "Fluder's loyalty was hard-earned," he said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "If he truly speaks for you, then you must see the value I bring as an emperor."

    Remiel's expression remained cold and calculating. "Your value lies in your potential to serve a greater cause. Baharuth's strength is admirable, but it was built on a foundation of cruelty and oppression. You have the chance to change that."

    Jircniv's brow furrowed. "And if I refuse?"

    Remiel's eyes narrowed. "It would be better for you, and all parties involved, if you did not. But should you choose to refuse, know this. I will dismantle your empire piece by piece. I will free the oppressed, destroy the corrupt, take what's worth taking, and leave bones and ashes in my wake."

    A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of Remiel's words sinking in. Jircniv knew he was cornered, his options limited. He had spent his life building an empire, but now, in the face of overwhelming power, he had to reconsider his path.

    "You were born powerful, and the thoughts of the slave and the servant are alien to your mind. I will change that," Remiel continued. "From henceforth, you will be my slave. You will do what I say, when I say it, and you will work for me all the days of your life."

    Jircniv's eyes widened in shock. "You can't be serious. I'm the Emperor!"

    Remiel's response was cold and final. "It's quite simple, Jircniv. Obey my word or your empire will taste my sword."

    The weight of her command settled heavily on him. "What is your ultimate goal?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

    "World conquest," Remiel replied without hesitation. "I, or rather the group I belong to, will reshape this world, and you will be part of that transformation."

    Jircniv's mind raced. "And what happens now?"

    Remiel's eyes glinted with a chilling finality. "Now, you die."

    Before Jircniv could react, Remiel canceled the magic that held him aloft, and released him to his doom. He plummeted through the air, the ground rushing up to meet him. Terror gripped his heart, and his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. How could this be happening? He was the Emperor, the ruler of Baharuth! He had faced threats before, but nothing like this. His life flashed before his eyes, moments of triumph and conquest now seeming hollow in the face of imminent death. His screams filled the air, a primal sound of terror and helplessness, before everything went black.

    Yet…

    He awoke with a start, gasping for breath, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He was back in his bed, the familiar surroundings offering no comfort. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart racing.

    The memory of his fall was vivid and horrifying, and for a moment, he clutched his chest, convinced he could still feel the impact. He felt his chest, he felt his neck. No wounds were found.

    "It was just a dream… Just a dream. I'm getting too stressed."

    He cast another glance toward his concubine. She was still sleeping in the exact same place, just as he had left her. Almost as if no time at all had passed.

    Jircniv jumped from his bed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked around wildly, expecting to see that evil woman standing in the shadows, ready to strike again. But he was alone. He tried to steady himself, forcing his mind to calm. "It was just a dream," he whispered, his voice trembling. "It had to be a dream."

    But then he saw his arms, covered in dirt and smeared with blood. His robes, once pristine, were now filthy and torn. His heart sank, dread seeping into his bones.

    "No, no, no… no, it can't be. It can't be possible. This can't be happening, this isn't happening." He repeatedly spoke to himself, he repeated the words like a mantra, all with the express goal of calming himself down. But then he felt something. A small weight in one of his pockets.

    Hesitantly, he reached into his pocket with shaking hands and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding it, he read the ominous words: "I own you."

    The note slipped from his fingers as he stumbled backward, his mind reeling. He clutched his head, trying to make sense of the nightmare that had become his reality. The room spun around him, and a wave of nausea overtook him. He barely made it to the washbasin before he vomited, his body convulsing with the effort.

    When he could stand again, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. He had always prided himself on his composure, his ability to remain calm under pressure. But now, he was a broken man, haunted by the memory of his fall and the chilling certainty that the woman's threat was real.

    He sank to the floor, clutching his knees to his chest, and screamed internally. The sound echoed through his skull, a testament to his despair. Tears streamed down his face as he rocked back and forth, the weight of his new reality crushing him. He was the Emperor of Baharuth, but now he was nothing more than a puppet, his strings pulled by a power far greater than his own.

    As the dawn light filtered through the window, Jircniv knew his life and his empire would never be the same again. He was no longer in control; he was a slave to Remiel's will. And the thought of what that meant for him and his people filled him with a terror deeper than he had ever known.

    If she could get him in the midst of his palace, enchanted with countless spells and guarded by the best knights, and put him back where she found him with no one the wiser… there was no place he could go where she couldn't get him.

    As the tears continued to fall down his face, he felt another weight in one of his pockets, much heavier than that of mere paper, and it was a noticeable weight that he could have sworn was not there mere seconds ago.

    "I… how… Why me?" he muttered to himself again and again and again until he finally mustered up the courage to reach down with his hand into his pocket.

    When he did so, he managed to pull out what seemed to be some sort of book.

    "Is this how she seeks to command me? I will not even get a day's rest before she gives me orders!" He wanted to scream aloud, but he repressed the urge.

    When he opened the book, he saw a list of names, and their descriptions and residences. Most of those people he knew personally, as he had made deals with or threats to them in person.

    He scrolled through the book, page after page, looking at their numbering, and noticing a dreadful fact. It was over a hundred. Over one hundred names. Over one hundred souls.

    And on each page, in bold red at the very top above the headline of the page, was written.

    "KILL THEM ALL. TAKE THEIR POSSESSIONS. FREE THE SLAVES."

    At that moment, he saw golden hairs fall on the pages of the book.




    AN: In all timelines, Jircniv gets traumatized. Also, I hate work. REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEe
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Dang this Jircniv will go bald even sooner than the canon one. Lmao! Welp, Demiurge is gonna cream his pants.

    "Sasuga Remiel-sama! Taking over the Empire within barely a week. Lord Ainz´s plan is beyond my meagre mind."
    Wonder, if there will be a report scene where the Guardians give progress reports:

    Demiurge: "I took over the Demi-humans"

    Remiel: "I took over the Empire."

    Ainz playing Knight and barely even getting up in the ranks: "what.exe"
    TFC!
     
    Impressive
    Ramiel taking over the Empire in a week, which Demigure is impressed ,but Ainz Gown is barely catching up with what his subordinates are doing in E Rantel Country as he playing knight in adventurers sector.
    While Ramiel comes get her devils due out of Emperor Jin ( be happy Jin at least she hasn't burned you from the inside out with one her spells or revealed or final Angel form yet, believe Jin you got off lightly compared to your Canon counterpart.
    Continue on
    Cheers!
     
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