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Path of the Slayer B3 32. Wizards & Demigods
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 00:32:21 +0000 UTCMerlin felt like an asshole.
It was the day after the celebration, and comforts that nearly rivaled the personal compound of the Dragon Princess surrounded Merlin.
On the walls, expensive illustrations set in diamond-crusted frames depicted scenes of his greatest moments during the tournament. His favorite replicated when he’d gone up against a cocky spellsword.
The wizard had caught the spellsword with a master grab before crushing the guy headfirst into the arena stage.
Next to Merlin’s massive and perfect bed was a clear scrying orb where he could call for any service, and he could truly call for anything. His bedchambers could hold an entire club of women with giant overflowing bowls of liquor from countless corners across the Realm Verse.
Yet, he woke up miserable, alone, and sober.
The wizard madness was gone.
Without that, Merlin lost his insane high and had to rationalize his behavior for the past two weeks. The cringe was physically painful to endure. He would prefer to avoid it all, maybe even blame others for his misery.
It was tempting.
Merlin sighed. “No, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to man up.”
Getting out of bed with a groan, Merlin dragged his feet into his personal bath chambers. Being that he was a five-foot dwelf, it was a decently long walk for him.
After he refreshed himself and put on some decent and comfy clothing with cologne, he heard a musical tone coming from the gold-framed door. Someone outside had triggered the runic ringer for his attention.
He went over and answered it without looking through the peephole.
Syleth towered over him on the other side of the entrance. She was still hot as hell with a white serpentine lower body that was exotic and an upper torso that made Merlin go dumb when he failed to look higher than her chest.
Then, when his gaze finally reached her face, her beauty dazzled him further, halting the breath in his throat, making him forget that he’d been kissing and having a blast with her like a stud. Then he reminded himself of his folly, a cold douse of reality and cringe striking him.
The first moment passed, and Syleth quickly prostrated herself before Merlin could stop her. The cringe grew worse for him even though she was acting proper as the junior before the elder.
“I’m deeply sorry for everything, Elder Merlin. If my actions have led you astray and strained your relationship with your fellow elders, please punish me as you see fit. All I ask is that you give me a chance to continue providing value to the squad. Allow me to see our Royal Quest to completion, then I’ll disappear and never bother you again.”
Syleth said all of that while her beautiful face stayed on the floor in front of his slippered feet. All Merlin could think was how awful this made him feel, stun-locking him before he finally found his voice again.
“Get up! Get up! System, please, you don’t have to do this!”
This was why one should take great care when mixing pleasure and status with those in a weaker position, because this could’ve gone so much worse. Knowing that, Merlin dove to his knees and helped Syleth up, even if that meant he had to look up at her again from his much shorter height.
Their touch lingered, a scalding sensation for Merlin, before he quickly separated. A flicker of hurt crossed Syleth’s face before she schooled her expression and placed her hands demurely in front of her hips, her head dipped slightly instead of raised to its usual proud height.
After a few seconds of calming himself, Merlin found his words. “I’ll be honest. I’m new to a life like this. I was always the background nerd. Then, well, meeting Elder Arden forced me front and center.”
Merlin reached back under his long reddish hair and rubbed his neck. “I’m not front and center as much as him, but more than enough to change my life so radically I nearly lost myself. But that’s no excuse for making mistakes that could’ve hurt us.”
Syleth hissed softly. “It isn’t fair for you to take the blame. You must understand that even without magic, a half-naga on Path of the Charmer is exceptional at her craft.”
She bobbed forward slightly. Her array of perfumes and her natural scent struck him as she spoke. “I knew what was happening. There were multiple points I could’ve guided us to slow down. But it was all so fun and amazing and cute. You’re cute.”
Syleth hesitated. Then she noticed the distance between them had grown too narrow and backed off, even if that seemed painful for her.
Merlin could barely keep his emotions in check. His Legendary Path Energy nearly burst free from his control.
Only Syleth would call him cute, and there was no lie he could sense from her. Thankfully, she had more to say, giving him time to recompose himself.
“Still, I knew deep down I wasn’t certain of us. Not in a way that would lead to something permanent. And deep down I knew you were in a rush from … lack of experience. Yet, I let the flames fan onward, and I made you look like a fool in your own parade. I ruined your moment as the Diamond Champion! I’m so sorry!”
Syleth covered her face and burst into tears. Merlin wanted to console her, but he held back, because she was right.
He’d ended up looking like a fool in his own parade, and that wasn’t fun for him to deal with along with his other problems. Staying within the doorframe, he waited out her sobs until she got better control of herself.
“I owe Elder Arden the biggest apology I can muster,” he said. “He saved me. He saved both of us. And I acted like an asshole to him.”
Arden wanted to make Merlin a brother, and while the wizard was mostly ignorant about nomad culture, he knew that was a huge deal.
That meant something deep to nomads.
That made Merlin sick to the gut from how he’d reacted when Arden was calmly and intelligently correcting a problem before it became terrible.
Prevention was the best medicine, making Arden a god among doctors for that, leaving Merlin as the dunce. So, instead of wallowing further, Merlin dug deep. Then he straightened his spine and puffed up his chest.
“Syleth,” Merlin called.
“Yes, Merlin?”
He offered his hand. “I think it’s best I take my time exploring my life. The good and the bad. So, I’m not looking for anything permanent. And perhaps after the Embassy of Defilement, it’ll be best we part ways. My fate is for the Grand Generational Passing, after all, and it’s not for the likes of those without enough power. With that said, would you still like to–”
She grabbed his hand, slithering low and close. The touch was scalding still. Their Path Energies crackled around each other, his more so because he was Legendary.
When her serpentine tongue flicked against his cheek, the spiritual core of his manhood radiated with heat and self-assurance. There were few things as amazing as being the center of a beautiful woman’s attention, even if temporarily.
“May I do the honor of teaching you some practical applications of charm?” She offered, her face close to his, her focus entirely on him. “If we are to part ways, I would prefer you to be more dangerous in social encounters. So that no woman can come up to you and make you her toy. It shall be you who charms instead.”
Now, that sounded like an actionable step in the right direction.
There was, of course, a strong urge to skip breakfast and reel her into his bedroom.
Through sheer willpower and the fear of making the same mistakes, Merlin calmly closed the door behind him and stepped toward the morning gathering spot. Syleth took her position, slithering beside him while nearly eight feet tall, her hand on his shoulder, her touch electric and hot, but steady.
“Before we get started, do you know if everyone’s gathered at breakfast?” Merlin asked.
“Everyone except for Elder Ardin. He’s been in talks with the Challenge Floor Administrator since last night.”
“WHAT?!” Merlin shouted, his energy blazing.
“Eek!” Syleth squealed.
Realizing his mistake, Merlin reined in his energy and emotions. But it wasn’t easy! Not only had he been wallowing, he completely ignored the ramifications of Arden being Arden – the most wanted nomad across the Realm Verse was getting grilled by a Demigod!
Merlin wanted to roar!
What if Arden being Arden finally ended up killing him?! Even with the risk of negative karma, a savvy enough Demigod might be able to appeal to the System while at his seat of power!
“Maybe we should be like Kroker and have faith?” Syleth offered nervously.
Merlin crashed down on his knees, hands clasped. “Please, System, please! Don’t let Arden die! I have to apologize! I’ll be his wizard until death do us part if you let him survive a Demigod!”
Syleth watched with mouth agape, and before Merlin could feel any shame, something unexpected appeared in front of them. A public notification with a personal word from the God-Queen herself.
[ Deal. ]
It disappeared as soon as it appeared, and Merlin felt something otherworldly enclose him. It was as if he was bound, or on the verge of being bound, until it finally crystalized.
Then Merlin received private notifications in his System Logs and saw the last thing he’d ever expected.
Merlin collapsed onto his hands and knees, dumbfounded and unresponsive. After a while, Syleth scooped him up into her arms and held him close before slithering to the mighty chow hall where breakfast was served.
Unfortunately, Merlin was still out of sorts, so Syleth went as far as feeding him herself.
The lessons on how to be a suave and charming stud of a wizard would have to wait.
***
The whole time Demigod Douglas sat on his diamond throne, Pathwalker Arden the Nomad stood across from him, refusing to kneel.
As the Challenge Floor Administrator, Douglas was afforded many rights by the Gods above him and the Crossroads Citadel High God himself. He could act like a petty king with a grand hall at the center of the Diamond Castle all he wanted as long as he knew his place beneath his betters.
He could demand those brought into his court to kneel if they were of lesser power and status, especially Young Pathwalkers.
He could enforce his will through his Domain if needed.
One thing stopped him, and it had nothing to do with the demonic energy circling around the heavily armored Young Pathwalker. It had nothing to do with how creepy, hellish, and evil Arden the Nomad seemed.
It had everything to do with the System breathing down Douglas’s neck. The moment he felt the urge to force Arden down on his knees, the System weighed heavily on the Demigod.
He could almost feel the edge of her teeth pressing into his skin. In one bite, he would lose his head, even though that was preposterous.
Usually, the God-Queen had made those who drew her wrath fade into scattered motes if they lacked proper protections.
He’d never heard of her eating someone alive.
Still, his imagination ran rampant because of her immediate presence. And nobody seemed to notice despite the hundred Veterans in the lustrous throne hall, adding to the intimidation factor that should’ve cowed Arden the Nomad into submission.
The young man in demonic armor stood tall and foreboding. The open T-visor in his helmet spiraled with a hellish darkness that concealed his face and made it maddening to pierce through.
For the first time in a long time, Demigod Douglas felt uncomfortable despite being the most powerful person in his own grand throne room, if one were to ignore the presence of the God-Queen herself.
“Why won’t you kneel?” the Demigod intoned in a gravelly voice.
“You are not my God-Queen,” Arden said. “Nor are you the supplier of my Royal Quest, and I’ve yet to kneel for her. I still might not.”
Such insolence!
Again, Demigod Douglas felt the need to crush the Young Pathwalker. Once again, he stopped short as the System breathed louder and more aggressively down his neck.
Her impossible teeth dug further.
“I’ve heard he knelt for a lowly ratkin Veteran! Why that scum?” said one of Douglas’s Veterans – a great question.
“My pride isn’t inflexible,” said the nomad, remaining as cool as ice. “Veteran Zez is necessary. And useful. So is his wife, Veteran Sharia. You are not necessary nor useful.”
In the next instance, Douglas burned years of good karma to counteract the negative karma. He stood from his throne while dressed in his heavy diamond armor, his gauntlet clad fist gripped around the handle of his Star Core Crusher Hammer.
He moved far faster than the lowly Young Pathwalker could react and brought around his hammer to crush the insolent fool once and for all.
Douglas hadn’t even planned to kill Arden the Nomad. He’d merely wanted to get the measure of the man after hearing all the complaints from the aristocracy, but Arden’s disrespect to the powers already in place couldn’t be tolerated!
Though, Douglas had to admit he would derive some pleasure in knowing the System couldn’t intervene even if she favored such a Pathwalker. Better yet, he could leverage rewards from the aristocracy from this.
If only something beyond Douglas’s calculations didn’t emerge from Arden’s armored shell.
It was a shady creature with feminine proportions and draconic wings. She moved just fast enough to impede the hammer swing while looking into the Demigod’s eyes. Her soulless gaze struck his core, impressing upon his soul the weight of irrevocable doom.
Douglas stopped an inch short of smashing Arden’s head. The following blast wave knocked the Young Pathwalker off his feet and sent him flying all the way down the two thousand-foot long throne room.
But instead of hitting the giant doors, Arden emitted a thunderous explosion of magnetic lightning and plasma, slowing himself down. He crashed hard on the floor and remained standing straight, as if unaffected despite suffering the near death blow of a Demigod.
The shady phantom that had warned away Douglas’s strike was gone from sight. It was as she’d been a figment of his imagination, which wasn’t true. He’d heard reports of that thing being called Doomie, but it was far scarier than expected.
I lost my chance, Douglas realized.
And he burnt years of positive karma for no reason.
“Begone, pathetic creature,” Douglas growled, turning back to his throne, doing his best to save face.
“Sure,” Arden said. “Nice chat.”
The throne doors opened and slammed shut, and Douglas collapsed into his throne, feeling like the biggest imbecile on the challenge floor.
“Sir, what just happened?” asked one of his Veterans.
“A problem that’s out of my hands,” muttered Douglas.
Maybe the Embassy of Defilement would deal with Arden the Nomad once and for all. Douglas and many others in his circle could only hope.
Such a young man was an affront to all that had been established. He shouldn’t be allowed to persist, especially with how the antagonistic and oppressing God-Queen seemed to favor him.
Someone had to stop him. Crush him. And make an example of him!
Comments
Samuel Strode
I chose when I bend the knee!
Samuel Strode
His bedchambers could hold an entire club of women with giant overflowing bowels of liquor from countless corners across the Realm Verse.— bowels or bowls?
