Black Magus

The words were not aimed at us. High Matron Etyl and I knew that much, yet we found ourselves running up the stairs all the same. Eagerly, we followed the Elven Devil, skipping behind the five zombies who were in turn giving chase to the tiring rogue.

The halfling made it not halfway before the zombies intercepted him with basic if not well-practiced martial arts. When he fell, though, there were no convulsions. Instead, the zombies continued up the stairs, and Amun picked up the fresh corpse as easily as a basket of fungus. His super-draugr stepped through the solid ice walls moments later, appearing by his side before they sprinted up the stairs. The rest of the draugr wound up behind us. Their eagerness for battle forced our pace to quicken. So much that we took to the skies to retreat far to the southeastern shores of the peninsula, choosing instead to use this advanced scrying to watch the proceed in safety. Although, I had the strong assumption that the High Matron was attempting to experiment with the range of this device.

I had to admit, it was useful, if not distracting. In this situation, however, I could focus on two separate things; in that way, it was a bit like a play seen from impossible angles. In this case, it was from above. With my physical eyes, I looked down at the five figures as a bird would. Yet I could see every detail of their pale bodies, sprinting across a field of white spread beneath the pale blue glow of the sky. Then, my scrying eyes lifted, revealing ice, ice, and more ice before spears and shields held by the armies of men occupied the entirety of the little window. It even estimated the numbers of the assembled humans, halflings, dwarves, and elves, counting nearly 30,000.

Never before had we seen the humans of Shujen gathered in such numbers. Never has it been told of them uniting against an enemy, much less a sole individual. Yet here they were, pushed by fear into uniting with those they pointed blades at mere months ago. It was an event that would remain in the annals of the Bodhi Tree's history for ages to come. And so, for a time, I found myself of a like mind with my mother. Like her, I was eager to see the extent of the Champion's power.

With the humans focusing on the familiar bodies following the approaching rogue, their lines held firm. Meanwhile, Amun stood a few hundred meters away with the rest of his undead, muttering some strange somethings in an even stranger language while the one he called Zaraxus slung his arm behind him with minimal effort.

A dense wave of magic flowed in the wake of his passing hand, shattering the fields of ice into a fine mist that ejected toward the sky as the waves of Shujen Bay began to churn once more. Even from our physical bodies, we could see the plume rise to immeasurable heights before it finally met its apex and descended as gelid rain. From the scrying, however, we could see the exotic undead fitting a blue-white ring around his finger while Amun held his palm towards the sky.

"New Moon!" Those words coupled with some unheard mutterings saw twin waves of arcana pour into Amun's palm and shoot skyward in a helical beam of silver and purple, pulling all pairs of eyes to the sky, away from the wave of black and gold tendrils that sunk into their feet.

Based on the mana being absorbed by his spirit, I assumed the entirety of his Mana Well had been deposited into that globe of deep purple and silvery-blue energy that soon formed above. Whatever it was, it grabbed ahold of the falling rain, at first leaving the material suspended before it started drifting towards the globe; slowly at first, then faster and faster until it collapsed with the aggregating mass at the center.

It was a sight that removed any notion of battle from all present minds. Everyone seemed to be transfixed on the cosmic dance of ice and rock; billions of particles, spinning around a larger piece of material until they impacted spectacularly. Somehow giving it the strength to pull more significant quantities of ice and rock towards its core until most of the Bay's ice behind Amun was gone and a great divine snowball loomed above the silent masses.

Their silence was broken by the sound of horrendous cracks and pained screams seconds later, yet many eyes remained at the object above, frozen in awed fear as the silver-blue hue of the massive sphere shifted to an unsettling red. Those who looked down soon met the gaze of the blood-red rock, however, as its light shone on their minds and spirits as much as the land, meddling with them in ways similar to the webs in drow minds. Similarly, those who kept their eyes raised soon noticed the fresh corpses rising towards the… third sun, settling in place to eclipse the rising sun.

Then, they heard the screams.

Although they had the element of surprise and killed several people, the martial undead were cut down in no time, and the tens of thousands remaining were on the march, shielded by a wall of arrows as their units maneuvered around the semi-frozen Bay.

unflinchingly, Amun faced the curtain of arrows descending on him and activated a domain spell using that purple mana. It spread to a radius of 5 meters, pulling any arrow it touched into a violent spiral of swarming steel. With so many, it was not long before it formed a dome of arrows, and so the purple mana flared, ejecting clustered columns of arrows at all angles toward the front line to shatter raised shields and pierce armored chests.

Many fell and soon ascended to that rock, but no real damage was done to their army. Instead, I realized, Amun aimed to halt the charge, And with that accomplished, Amun turned his grin toward the source of our scrying device and reached out. Electricity soon danced around his hand, seeming to crack space itself apart to allow a strangely designed hand crossbow to materialize and spin deftly across the spread units, firing fire six shots in rapid succession.

For whatever reason, the little window split the moment Amun fired the crossbow. One showed the bolts themselves while the other showed a geometrical crystal shaking each time the weapon was fired, revealing a different sigil on each face that a small text revealed to be numbers. It happened so fast, I would have only been able to read them, were it not for the scale of the effect.

The first bolt- numbered 18, was imbued with steel-gray mana that slowed its arc through the air, giving those in its path ample time to raise their shields. Only for them to crumple beneath the bolt as if it boasted an immense weight. The second and fourth bolts, numbered 2, arced out much faster, manifesting as green streaks of mana that pierced through dozens of humans, shields, and armor before they disappeared through the ice below. The third, numbered 15, trailed a bluish mana that befell the ranks of countless men, forcing crystalline protrusions to grow from every part of their bodies until they were encased in a tomb of gemstones, leaving a glittering trail that stretched from the middle of the Bay to its shores. The fifth, numbered 17, left a similar trail of rust-brown magic that dragged a flock of weapons and a stampede of armored humans behind it, disorganizing the human ranks and leaving many of them disarmed; but as devastating as that, and the others were to the human's ranks, it was tame in comparison to the last bolt.

It was fired after the shortest delay after Amun looked at the number and frowned, then aimed the crossbow high above the ranks and fired. It sailed faster and further than any bolt before it. Yet, Amun paid it no mind, storing the exotic crossbow inside a dark cloud with a dejected aura.

I wondered why a roll of 1 of all things could be the cause for his sudden dour mood, and thus focused my attention on the bolt arcing down towards the center of the armies, unknowing of the dark clouds rising from my feet or the vast domain encompassing the Bay. Nor did my True Self notice, for I had his gaze focused on Amun and the few humans pressured into charging him. Many more organized into flanking maneuvers while a few more retaliated with a small volley of spells until they were reminded who they were up against. A drow. A child of the Fae, who had innate spell resistances. The swirling vortex of mana that always accompanied him flowed in the wake of his casual swipes, disrupting or dismantling many spells before they even came near him.

Smiling ever wider, Amun held his hand out before him and the air began sparking with electricity again, soon solidifying into a beautiful three-section staff that revolved ever so slowly around him. But he did not grab it. Instead, he raised his arms high and wide, palms skyward, just as even those least attuned to magic felt the power building within the falling bolt I had been focusing on.

An eerie silence soon spread across the battlefield once more as a golden light shined above, seeming to amplify the sudden crack of the small bolt breaking apart just several seconds before it hit the gathered armies. Thus releasing the sun itself.

My panic was met with relief once the dark clouds, infused with a divine golden light, embraced me. Relief turned to gratitude when I realized the source of this magic, which soon lessened once I saw the dark cloud of gold surrounding Matron Etyl as well. But then, sheer disbelief came over me as a distant heat encompassed half of my body. Yet, desperate to see its effect, I turned towards the light regardless.

It was… humbling, seeing such a large fireball burst from something so small. The lucky ones were those closest to the blast; the closest meaning those standing within a few hundred meters of the bolt. They were vaporized to dust. Obliterated in an instant unlike those further back. Just as quickly, they found their armor melted to their bodies and their weapons dripping around their hands; or if they were a kilometer or two away, saw their leathers become charred and the wood in their weapons ignite along with their hair. Those even further back were severely burned and many more were blinded. But even that was tame in comparison to what came after.

The shockwave crawled across the partially Bay like an ethereal monster. The thick sheet of ice stretching to the shore was nothing against it. It shattered into a tidal wave of fine powder that soon glistened red as it swept across the human lines like an avalanche spawned from the Hells. The water behind Amun was hardly better off, evaporating or outright dispersing into an oppressive mist that seemed to desperately chase the tidal wave ripping across the Bay. Thousands fell in an instant, yet thousands more were simply tossed into a mangled mess by the force of the blast. The only survivors, it seemed, were those on wide flanking maneuvers, those near the shore, and the rear detachment near the castle. Their despair was palpable. Moreover, it only increased once the charred and ruptured bodies of the fallen began to rise around the giant mushroom-shaped cloud, clearing the Bay to reveal the fiendish drow who caused such destruction, sprinting across the choppy waters with his three-section staff revolving around him.

The central piece was undoubtedly adamantine, but the other sections were of a metal unknown to me. I could only tell it was not steel, mithral, or adamantine, but that was beside the point. The magical energy it radiated was immense.

I leaned forward in anticipation as Amun approached the line, gripping the weapon to bring it into motion as an elf approached, sword raised in a horizontal block. A foolish move against such a weapon. Predictably, Amun stretched his arm out just before the weapon came down. Extending the reach enough for the center staff to rattle against the sword, leaving the end piece with nowhere to go except down. Right into the elf's spine.

A deafening crack amidst the roar signaled his defeat. But those close by saw a gruesome shape protrude from his chest before he was thrown forward toward Amun, who reduced their head to a red mist as he spun the weapon around to slam against an armored opponent's chest, where it… broke.

The staff glowed blue and shattered as much as the knight's armor crumpled and was stained red, but it regrew just as fast. The broken pieces seemed excited about their fate, as they glowed with vibrant blue mana before scattering across the area, carrying sweeping arcs of lightning in their wake that fried anyone not pelted by the absurdly dense shards of whatever metal the weapon was composed of.

As before, chaos ensued and subsequently died out in a field of electricity, bloody mist, and mangled humans raining towards the skies. Prompting a more bloodied Amun to Skip with the Wind towards the next crowd, exchanging his staff for a finely made spear of a truly nefarious make. Only to toss it into the eclipsed sky so that it could be gripped by the darkness itself and sweep through the ranks with glee. It hacked away while Amun displayed his newly awakened super-strength by engaging in unarmed combat, thinning the ranks until only a few remained in that area, wherein Amun grasped the weapon and somehow turned it into a scythe capable of hacking through souls, turning them into wraiths, specters, ghosts, boogeymen, and poltergeists that scattered across the lands to wreak havoc.

Such tactics continued for hours as the armies worked to regroup and tried foolishly to outmaneuver a monk. From one group to the next, Amun Skipped with the Wind, switching weapons whilst engaging in a glorious display of drowian acrobatics, strength, martial arts, and athleticism as he danced across the fields, dealing death until none in the immediate area remained.

Eventually, though, he seemed to either grow bored or begin toying with his opponents. Or, he was simply exploring his abilities. He changed tactics and began using that silver-blue magic to anger the seas. With humans being able to manipulate the elements, however, he found little success. Granted, they could not individually manipulate water as well as he. But combined, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Seeming to find the simplest solution, Amun gave up on the tug of war and flashed the water to a cloud of scalding steam. Then used the cover to pick off as many as he could until they tried to turn that against him as well. They kept him occupied with spells and arrows while others clothed the distance with blades and spells. It seemed to work, as Amun suffered blows from fists and blades alike, but not without returning the damage. Not by Ki, but a bite to the elbow of a barbarian.

He howled in pain, then seemed to yelp in confusion before meeting Amun's eldritch eyes, and the moment the hulking man began to panic, Amun jerked his head back, pulling not flesh from the body, but an ethereal arm, bitten clean off by the jagged teeth in the Elven Devil's jaw.

As anyone would, they leaped back in horror and wept at their arm, withering into a decrepit, useless thing. They pleaded with the clerics and witches with increasing desperation as they tried and failed time and time again to restore him, pulling their focus away from the wicked energy pouring from Amun until it was too late. When they finally turned, they saw not the Elven Devil standing amidst the backpedaling barbarians, but a shell of fleshy darkness wreathed in golden, unholy light; radiating a voice of pure dread that echoed in the soul of every mortal present, including mine.

"You people of Shujen know me as the Undying Reaper; you Drow know me as the Destroyer; both of you misunderstand me, so let me clarify things for you. I am the Elven Devil. My name is Amun, the Twenty-Fifth Child of the Nox, and I am the Supreme Void Imp. Now look upon my works, ye mighty; and despair!"