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119 Rumors of the Arcanian
🕑 Added 2023-01-14 01:03:00 +0000 UTC– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 216, Season of the Setting Moon, Day 35 –
Weran stepped out of the dimensional gate with an almost tangible aura swirling around his dark green cloak. His fierce eyes darted over the area. In front of him, a swarm of hellspawn was pressing into a dungeon entrance. In a handful of locations, battles were still being fought.
“Undead.” Weran muttered unconcernedly while watching a high-level lich hold his own against several dozen hellspawn. Not far from there, a group of death executioners and reavers were still putting on a fight as well. Overall, however, it was clear that the undead were on the losing end of this confrontation.
Weran ignored their fight and instead cast several detection spells. One of the spells allowed him to spot a group of Tiv soldiers hidden behind rock and steel fortifications, which they were desperately defending against a behemoth whose front-limb maw was turned inside-out with an endless spiral of sharp teeth tearing, slicing, and drilling into the soldiers’ barricade.
“Dogs of the traitorous king,” growled Weran, and his eyes narrowed. Mana began gathering between his fingers while his eyes observed the area. “If this is a trap, then it appears to be an unusual one.”
Weran scoffed and stepped forward. From all around him, mana was being absorbed into his cloak and strengthened his spell casting. In a few seconds, Weran had shaped a complex net of spell structures that were all chained together. A single ignition later, the barrage of spells activated while Weran focused on guiding the activations for minor adjustments.
The earth rumbled and several enormous stone walls rose from the ground and high into the sky. One by one – alternating left and right – they stopped for a brief moment before tipping over and squashing whatever wasn’t quick enough to escape.
Once again, the earth rumbled, and the ground shifted. The survivors of the first spell combination found themselves being moved together with the earth they were standing on. When they were all lined up, two casting centers ignited and unleashed two intense blasts of pale-blue flames.
A behemoth galloped towards Weran and lunged at him with the center-maw on its neck opened wide.
Weran changed the links between the chained spell structures to adjust the order and timing of spells. The earth around Weran reshaped into tiny, sharp-edged grains of sand, which then sped towards the behemoth’s opened maw at high velocity. A dark green liquid rose from the earth and followed right after the sand.
The high pressure beams of sand and liquid tore into the behemoth’s throat and tested the limits of the behemoth’s devouring ability.
“I never liked you behemoths,” remarked Weran with cold eyes. He cast a quickened spell that created a spatial barrier in front of himself.
Another spell ignited and the air-pressure around the behemoth suddenly dropped significantly. It looked as if the behemoth was being turned inside-out and then it exploded into countless tiny bits of hellspawn flesh. Some of the fleshy debris impacted on the spatial barrier that Weran had created before.
Weran controlled the remaining spells in his active chain when his attention was caught by a faint mana distortion on the other side of the hellspawn. He narrowed his eyes, circled his mana, and put on the hood of his cloak. His skin-tone flickered, and he disappeared from sight – both eyesight and mana sight. An instant later, a dimensional gate opened where Weran had sensed the distortion.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea that you’ve come, father. As the Supreme warned us, there is hellspawn activity here.” A woman in silver metal armor with purple cloth addressed the sturdy, thick-bellied, old human man.
“I’m going to greet my commander,” insisted Castellan. “No matter what.”
“Grandpa,” muttered a man in blue scale armor. “It’s just uhm…” The man searched for words. “When was the last time you…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, you’re not really on active duty anymore, right?” His eyes danced over Castellan’s armor, which appeared to be close to bursting because of the amount of belly pressing against it.
“Worry about yourself,” grunted Castellan. “Don’t embarrass our family name here. I can take care of myself.”
“Seriously, father.” The woman shook her head. She pointedly observed Castellan limping forward. “You’re not that quick on your feet anymore. Be careful.”
“Bah!” Castellan grinned. “It’s the hellspawn that ought to worry about being quick on their feet. I have no intention of running.”
“Grandpa…”
“I feel like I’m being ignored here,” interjected an old human woman, who was clad in silver and red. The Mage Supreme shot an annoyed glance towards the group of worrying youngsters. “I won’t have my friends die in front of me. Hellspawn be damned. You should know that Castellan is more stubborn than a lump of iron. Then again, you might be too if you still haven’t given up on dissuading him.”
The group of elite soldiers proceeded together with Castellan while Diwa cast a combination of a spherical protective barrier and a pulsating fire vortex that incinerated the hellspawn in the vicinity.
“Wait—” Diwa whirled around and hurriedly began casting a spell. Before anyone else could follow what caused the Mage Supreme to be concerned, the fire vortex distorted, its color changed into an eerie crimson, and the whole spell contracted to threaten the spherical barrier protecting them.
“This…” Diwa clenched her teeth and fought with the unknown mage opponent for control of the spell.
“Mages!” shouted Castellan’s daughter. “Support the Supreme!”
“Rescind that order!” roared Castellan, whose eyes were glued to Diwa’s strained expression. “Think about what kind of opponent would be able to take Diwa on like this. In a duel of true mages, there is no place to just butt in. A single lapse in Diwa’s concentration can spell death for us all. I know Diwa. She’ll do better alone for now. Trust her.”
Castellan’s daughter nodded with a grim expression and adjusted her order. “Everyone, focus on locating the enemy! Blue team, prepare to release an additional barrier at a moment’s notice.”
“Try to follow the mana movement if you can.” Castellan addressed one of his grandchildren, who focused on spellwork. “I’ve never been able to follow her battles in mana sight, but from what I understand, it’s an invaluable lesson for those that can.” He never took his eyes from Diwa’s expression, even while talking.
After seconds that seemed like hours, Castellan cursed: “Shit!” The wrinkles on Diwa’s forehead had deepened and cold sweat had appeared on her forehead.
While Diwa was completely occupied with defending the flame vortex from interference, a thin trail of translucent grains shot up from the earth and snaked around her ankle, into her robes, around her torso, and finally around her neck. The tiny glass pieces tightened all at once and continued circling to cause a faint line of blood to follow in their path.
“Weran,” muttered Diwa with recognition and a slight trace of instinctual fear. The glass pieces could have cut deeper if the caster had chosen to do so. The Mage Supreme quietly admitted defeat and surrendered to the situation. Weran had chosen to let her live, which showed that there was room to talk.
“I know this spell…” Castellan’s face turned grave. He moved his hand over the shrunken battle axe at his belt. He hesitated when seeing the comparatively calm face of Diwa. As so often, he could not follow all of her reasoning, but he was pretty good at reading her intentions. “Everyone, stay calm for now.”
“What do you—?” Castellan’s daughter narrowed her eyes and reflexively reached for her weapon.
“Don’t!” barked Castellan. “Everyone, stay calm.”
“Prepare healing spells.” His daughter adjusted quickly and whispered new orders to the surrounding soldiers.
A figure became visible within the sea of crimson flames, seemingly unbothered by what should have been a lethal environment. All that was visible through the flames was the mana-distorting outline of a cloak with hood pulled up and a deep black penetrating from where eyes should have been – a black that none of the raging flames could illuminate.
“If you wanted to bait me out of Tiv Palace, there are easier ways, old comrade.” Diwa spoke with forced composure and gulped. “But this isn’t one of your traps, is it, Weran? I don’t believe that you would use Hope’s memory like this. Never.”
Dark black voids were coldly staring back from the flames while Diwa was speaking.
“But looking at you now, I’m beginning to doubt my judgement.” Diwa gulped again. “After all, I also believed that you had given up on that fiendish cloak. I remember you promising that—”
“Enough,” hissed the figure from the crimson flames. The flames parted, and a path opened to reveal Weran completely. His face was faintly visible underneath the cloak, but the area where his eyes should be remained as impenetrable to light as before.
The darkness glowered at Diwa and Castellan. “The naive little girl and the knuckle-brained, bleeding heart. The fact that it’s you two that have come makes me willing to give you a chance. If you had brought one of the traitors, I would not have hesitated to settle some long-overdue debts.”
“We have sensed the same as you, I believe,” said Diwa. “And…” She took a deep breath. “We have already received confirmation from Tivius. Hope is alive.”
For the first time, the darkness that covered Weran’s eyes faded away, but only for a brief moment. “Did you kill Tivius on the spot?!” His tone contained an unspoken accusation.
Diwa and Castellan clenched their fists. It was Diwa who replied: “No. No, we did not.”
“That’s the difference between you and me.” Weran spoke with loathing and contempt. “No matter how powerful you will grow, you will always be surrounded by liars and traitors.” His voice was cold. “You deserve it.” Fire lit up in his eyes: “She didn’t!”
Weran turned towards the dungeon and walked ahead. He muttered to himself: “Without punishment, no lesson will be learned. Ever. No civilization will survive. Corruption. Collapse. Chaos.” He scoffed. “Spare the wicked, doom the innocent.”
***
“The number of hellspawn has decreased significantly,” muttered one of the Tiv soldiers inside the dungeon.
“Stay sharp!” reminded Yujin. Her eyes darted around the chamber and surrounding tunnels. “We don’t know what’s going on. This is no time to let down your guard.”
“The Valkyrie!” shouted a soldier. Hope had jumped back onto the disconnected ledge and walked into the tunnel.
“Move so much as a muscle, and I’ll have your throats cut.” Yujin hissed towards Claude and his prison guards, whom she had been keeping an eye on the whole time.
As the Valkyrie walked past the Tiv soldiers, various expressions washed over their faces. Some contained gratitude, admiration, and respect. A few even went down on one knee or bowed. Others wore expressions of wariness, fear, and barely suppressed hostility.
“Where did the Arcanian go?” Hope addressed Yujin, who appeared to be in command at the moment. “I missed his departure.”
“We… don’t know either,” admitted Yujin with a trace of anxiousness on her face. Not understanding often meant being at risk of an unexpected death. “To be honest, we don’t even understand where he came from or what he was doing here.”
“He was alone?” asked Hope with surprise. “That’s odd.”
“As far as we can tell,” replied Yujin. Her eyes did not miss the resentful expression on Claude’s face, who had been taken off-guard by Terry’s arrival and the fear of other forces from Arcana waiting to join the battle.
“Did no one catch his departure?” asked Hope. “My mana sense was never the best, but this still seems strange. Did anyone else notice anything?”
The soldiers were shaking their heads quietly. Yujin observed their reactions carefully.
Hope stepped closer to Yujin. “So the Arcanian arrived out of nowhere, joined the battle against the back-stabbing guards…” Hope sent a dismissive glance towards Claude before returning her attention to Yujin. “He did something to the dungeon or veil tear, and then he just vanished?”
Yujin wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Does that make sense to anyone?” Hope chuckled lightly.
Yujin noticed one of her subordinates fidgeting. “Speak your mind, soldier.”
“I…” The woman furrowed her brow. “I believe I’ve seen that man before. On a bounty poster.”
“A criminal?” exclaimed a shocked soldier.
“No surprise there. He did murder good people here,” growled one of the prison guards.
“What good people?!” sneered another soldier. “I haven’t seen the Arcanian touch so much as a hair of any good person here. He only fought you scum.”
“You—”
“ENOUGH!” barked Yujin. “If you’re already growing tired of not fighting, you can replace those that are currently engaging the hellspawn at the chokepoint.”
Yujin looked at her female subordinate, who had spoken up. “What kind of bounty?”
“I heard a rumor that several bounty hunters have been found dead recently,” said the woman. “The one thing they had in common was a single bounty they carried. The man who told me the story showed me the bounty leaflet, which is why I remember. The bounty was for an Arcanian man who looked exactly like this person. The bounty had been issued for his involvement in a conflict at a Guardian outpost.”
“Notable conflict at a Guardian outpost…” Yujin furrowed her brow. “It’s very far west for an Arcanian, but do you mean the uprising in Libra City? The one where a Bright was killed?”
“Exactly,” replied the woman. “Bright Willow.”
“‘Bright Willow’?” exclaimed another soldier.
“Speak.” Yujin turned to the male soldier.
“Wasn’t Bright Willow a person involved in the plot against Arcana’s barrier?” asked the man.
Hope raised a quizzical eyebrow at the mention of ‘Arcana’s barrier.’ She had no inkling of what these words signified nor what kind of plot they were talking about.
“Hm, this is—” Yujin stopped herself when she noticed the Valkyrie walking forward again.
Hope, who had been listening attentively before, was now wearing a completely changed expression: a softened gaze with tears in her eyes.
Hope hesitatingly stepped towards one of the tunnels and muttered: “Little Diwa… Castellan…” Her eyebrow twitched. “Huh? Naer?” She narrowed her eyes angrily. “That damned cloak again.” She grumbled while hastening her steps towards the people she longed to see with all her heart.
“Uhm…?” The soldiers glanced at each other. “What’s going on now?” “Where did she run off to?” “There are people there.” “Yeah— Wastes, these are intense mana signatures.” “Hostile?”
“Probably not,” muttered Yujin. “Not if the Valkyrie reacts like that. Friendlies.”
“Commander!” a soldier approached Yujin with something in his hand.
“Yes?” Yujin moved her attention to the soldier.
“We’ve found these. We believe they belonged to the Arcanian.” The soldier handed over a bunch of aspected throwing needles.
“Hm…” Yujin weighed one of the throwing needles in her hand while examining it in mana sight. “Who aspects an item with unaspected mana? Odd.”
The soldier cleared his throat. “Uhm, we have, uhm, discovered that these can’t be entered into storage items.”
Yujin raised an eyebrow at the unspoken implication that these soldiers had apparently first tried to sneak away the throwing needles, but she chose to ignore the minor offense. She attempted to place the throwing needle into her storage item and confirmed what the soldier had said. “Truly odd. Well…” Yujin shrugged. “One more point to add to the mysterious Arcanian column.”
***
“SCREE!” Clomp! The widowmaker sped up abruptly and bared its fangs at Terry. “Scree? Scree–gurgl…” It had thrown itself directly onto a set of transfixed needles from Terry’s mana-crafted skewer box.
“Hiss!” With the hellspawn’s dying breath, it emitted a swarm of translucent locusts. The withering-aspected attack rushed towards Terry.
“Hmph.” Terry circled some mana into the magic item near his chest, which had been awarded to him by the dungeon. The brooch held together a velvety black fabric, and with the addition of Terry’s mana, the fabric turned an even darker shade of black.
Terry stepped into the shadow plane. He found himself in a monochrome world that seemed an inverted image of how the world was supposed to look. The only light emerged from where shadows were supposed to be and this light faded out fast after a short distance.
Terry could see the locusts passing underneath him. He was standing on what appeared like a transparent window into the tunnel he had been standing in a moment before. This window was the shadow that was cast in the tunnel.
Terry liked his new brooch. Aside from the ability to create and freely shape a cloak with detection-resistant properties out of thin air, it also allowed him to use an ability similar to the Shadow Step spell. This turned out to be a useful addition to Terry’s evasive options, since it often conserved more mana than countering with a disruption discharge.
There was a downside, however, and Terry paid close attention to the surrounding mana. The shadow plane was not devoid of life. Mages or magic creatures like the undead shades might lurk in the impenetrable darkness.
Terry was not in any position to fight inside this plane of shadows, mostly because he was unable to lift a foot without returning to the normal world immediately – a limitation of the cloak’s ability and a limitation that was not necessarily shared by the creatures lurking in the dark.
Terry crouched down to get a better view of the dungeon tunnel on the other side of the plane window. He nodded slightly and then lifted his foot. The moment his foot lost some contact with the plane window, the world around Terry tilted and he found himself back inside the tunnel. The dead hellspawn had all vanished into nothingness.
“Hm…” Terry puckered his lips and moved them from side to side. He adjusted the length and shape of the velvety fabric once more. He hadn’t quite figured out yet how he should wear the cloak, or if at all. It consumed some mana to maintain, and it looked rather peculiar.
If the others were here, they would probably comment on my lack of fashion sense again. Terry snickered while thinking. Rightfully so, probably. Velvety black cloak paired with glossy brown mushroom leather and a few yellow-golden septimum pieces. Yeah… Terry shrugged. “It’s functional.”
“Hmm…” Terry walked along the dungeon tunnel while subconsciously moving his fingers to the location of his second dungeon reward: the enchanted necklace with a constant passive effect. At first, Terry had no idea what the necklace’s effect was. He had assumed that it might need charging because it had appeared to simply absorb mana, to then emit a slightly lower amount of mana.
Terry only discovered the actual effect when he had reached a dungeon chamber in which the mana was prominently featuring the ice-aspect. That was when Terry detected the necklace was absorbing his oscillating mana and then emitted a mana signature that mimicked the surrounding mana perfectly.
“Hmph.” Terry frowned subconsciously. He glanced from side to side and thought: Is the dungeon calling me shady or something? What kind of person does this dungeon think I am? Why are both my rewards related to sneaking around? Why not a long-range magic weapon or anything an upstanding character might use in the open?
“Hmph.” Terry grumbled quietly and shrugged once more. Despite his grumbling, Terry was actually grinning whenever he thought of the necklace. It wasn’t the useful mana cloaking assistance that he was so pleased with. It was useful, sure, and a welcome addition for someone with an aspect-impairment, of course. But the truly exciting thing in Terry’s opinion was something else.
Terry’s mind immediately latched onto another property: The constant passive mana consumption. What sounded like a negative trait to most people’s ears, sounded like the best mana regeneration training assistance a person could wish for in Terry’s ears.
When Terry had laid down for a nap in one of the secure dungeon chambers, he realized he could keep training his mana regeneration even while sleeping. The excitement at that prospect had nearly foiled his napping plans.
“Hmm…” Terry’s brow furrowed at the sight in front of him. “Another one of these door puzzles?” He glanced from side to side. “I haven’t seen a single dungeon mechanism aside from these doors.”
Terry was not sure what to make of these doors. The door lock puzzles were challenging. Even with Terry's acute mana sense and exquisite mana control, it still took a considerable amount of time because the solution required him to maintain a comparably large mana structure in place.
Terry shaped the unlocking structure and held it in place for several minutes while constantly adding more mana to offset whatever the door was doing that caused mana to thin out in some locations. Swiftly, the mana felt foreign to Terry, and it was sucked deeper into the dungeon. This was the same for every door so far. It signaled the successful solving of the puzzle. A moment later, the door opened.
“This is so strange,” muttered Terry while following the descending mana with his mana sight and scanning the tunnel ahead with detection pulses.
***
“Naer, why are you still wearing that cloak?” Hope glanced at the elven man in his dark green cloak that was radiating an eerie aura.
“Hope.” Weran spoke the name almost like a sigh. “Right now, you may call me Weran.”
“I’d rather not!” retorted Hope. “I remember you promising me that you wouldn’t wear that cloak anymore.”
“And I didn’t,” said Weran. “Even though I thought you were dead. I didn’t. Not until it became necessary. And truthfully, I believe my hesitation was perhaps my mistake. If I had picked it up earlier, then you might not have been…” Even though his hood was down, a trace of darkness flickered around Weran’s eyes. “All this time.” He clenched his fists tightly. “Tivius, I’ll—”
“I don’t need you to settle my debts, Naer,” interjected Hope. “Nor do I want you to. You have a tendency to go beyond what you can bear, or you wouldn’t need this fiendish cloak to keep going. I’ll have my turn with Tivius.”
Hope leaned slightly forward and stared into the elderly face. “So please, can you please stop? I obviously don’t understand what’s going on, but please call off the hunt for now. We can sort out whatever happened. We can do it while being clear-headed and without losing our conscience. Don’t lose yourself again.”
For a while, Weran walked quietly next to Hope. Eventually, he sighed. “Perhaps after your turn with Tivius. Not before.”
“Hm…” Hope lowered her gaze and shifted her expression before turning back to Weran. “Tell me, how are you so sure that we’ll find a trace of the Arcanian in this place?”
“This is the Libra Outpost,” replied Weran.
“Looks like a large battle has been fought here recently,” said Hope, with a glance at Weran.
“Yeah,” acknowledged Weran without elaborating. “You said that one of the soldiers recognized the Arcanian from the bounty poster, but what makes me sure that we are talking about the same person is that he simply vanished from the dungeon.”
“How did he do it?” asked Hope.
“I don’t know,” admitted Weran.
“That’s unusual.” Hope smirked slightly.
“I’ve discovered that there are still new things to learn about space magic,” said Weran. “A fresh and recent lesson.”
“So why are we here?” asked Hope. “From the soldiers’ gossip, this is the place where Terry was involved in the killing of a cultist.”
“Yeah…” Weran muttered pensively before clearing his throat. “We’re here because Terry’s companions are here.” He shrugged. “Or they were here not too long ago.”
“Looks like there will be an entourage,” quipped Hope while observing the people approaching them.
“I hoped I would never see you again,” said Dhruv. The dwarven Guardian eyed Weran warily. “I can’t say I’m happy at your return.”
Amelia, Dargones, and Cadence were standing next to Dhruv. Their gazes were like Dhruv’s – not at all pleased to meet Weran again so soon.
“Are you insisting on continuing this fight?” asked Cadence with bitterness.
Hope shot Weran a fleeting glance and then interjected: “No, he does not. Absolutely not. He only brought me here so that I can inquire about an acquaintance. His name is Terry.”
“What?” “Huh?” “...” Cadence, Amelia, and Dargones raised a set of synchronized eyebrows.
“What do you want with the boy?” Dhruv demanded in a gruff voice. “If you are looking to harm him, there will be no information for you here.”
Hope noted the reactions among the rest of the people and took particular note of a group of people that stood out among the rest.
First, in contrast to the others, their magic items weren’t cloaked.
Second, there was a dwarven woman that looked about ready to bite Hope to death if she did not give a satisfactory answer to Dhruv’s inquiry.
Third, there was an elven man staring open-mouthed that had apparently forgotten to breathe since a while ago.
“Y-You—” Calam stammered and stared at Hope with star-struck eyes. “You’re the Valkyrie!” He exclaimed while pointing subconsciously.
“I’ve been called that.” Hope grinned. “I somehow ended up taking an involuntary leave of absence in a place of seclusion.” She noted Calam’s force-aspected mana signature.
Hope remembered the story that Weran had told her about the group that had come to Tiv in search of ingredients to save a Guardian. “I’ve heard there were companions that had joined Terry on a rescue mission in these lands, a noble pursuit in my opinion. How might I address you, boy?”
***
Comments
Logan
What is the most important lesson anyone with power MUST learn? Control. Control of emotion. control of the mind, control of the body. Without control you get monsters like Weran.
Sesharan
I love the Valkyrie already.
Aurora1325
Weran needs a slap
