Black Magus

Etan Za'Darmondiel.

24th of Trescia, 1492.

Kasian Empire, Flate Wildlands. Joim Rift. 327 km east of the Rhar-Kasia-Chaulort Tri-Point.

04:11.

***

Day by day, hour by hour, the Bodhi Peninsula felt smaller and smaller. In what would have taken the natives tendays, we traveled in a mere 4 hours, departing Redagh to race across the snowy plains of the Kasian Empire—a vast land, in and of itself, and a sparsely populated one.

Kasia was the land of fighters; like all aged fighters, she was heavily scarred. A millennium of war saw the land tainted, corroded, and poisoned. Vast city-states that once dominated the country stood as ruins slowly being reclaimed by time. That was not to say the cities were small and rundown, however. On the contrary, the settlements we saw scattered between the eastern coast and the Rharian borders to the north were vast, heavily fortified city-states placed hundreds of kilometers apart. When we were in the heart of the nation-state of Pas, however, we turned due south and bore witness to thousands and thousands of kilometers of torn land. Unclaimed by anyone civil, that was to say, for the land was dominated by countless goblin hordes, orcish war camps, roving barbarians, and the occasional dwarven caravan, all locked in a perpetual state of conquest and war.

Even when none could be seen, traces of their presence lingered. Vultures and carrion feeders flocked throughout the skies like spinning clouds of darkness, eyeing a dozen separate battles while their feasts ripened to their tastes. Swathes of land were seen charred, the ice mixed into a dull gray from the tons of ash that rained when the snow refused to fall. Fumes and smoke born from all things that should not be burned rolled across the land like a living domain, carrying the stench of goblins that forced even the trees to wither in defeat.

War could be seen everywhere we went. Except one place, it seemed. Here, midway up some nameless mountain, centered between a hot spring to the north and a rift of goblin fumes to the south was an unbroken plane of snow. Being over 100 kilometers in diameter, it served as a beacon from the skies, pulling Amun and the rest of us down to the powdered surface to land and fall below the powdery snow.

Down and down the Troupe fell, laughing and joking and ridiculing or at the very least conversing with one another until we met bedrock after a five-plus kilometers descent and looked upon the wall of white that consumed us. A wall that was rent asunder by the actions of four.

Geri swept her claws towards the east, forming a cavern of ice and snow that seemed limitless. Blude thrust her palm towards the south, ejecting a conical wave that condensed the snow into an army of watery bubbles. Redd stomped towards the west, demanding her magic to chase after the white clouds and push them to the surface. Sam simply inhaled, and out of her mouth came a jet of steam that condensed almost instantly, spraying a fine mist into the air that soon froze into a thin film of ice. And thus it was revealed, a crater some 600 kilometers in diameter. Therein we got our first taste of Amun's wickedness.

Beneath a crater-wide domain of displaced time, he told us of those he cursed in Chaulort. He told us of those who came after him at the beginning of the year, those who refused to become undead, using the power of their God to self-destruct instead. He told us of his principles. To never seek revenge. But to always respond in kind. Thus he told us of his 'often evil alter ego.' His Doppelganger, Numa; the Owl, responsible for making a deal with a witch to perform live experimentation of sentient beings; all to create his biomechanical technology- his implants and augmentations.

The being responsible for this crater being blasted onto the face of Kasia.

Whether we or our clones were good or evil was up to us, he ensured telling us. As did he make sure to tell us that our actions would have consequences; not from him, in most cases, but transgressions or even wars declared against us because our consequences would be dealt with by us and not his Legions. He ensured to tell us we could treat our subordinates and citizens any way we pleased. We could rule with an iron fist or be benevolent leaders, so long as those in our domains were there by choice. He then passed on the final lesson by telling us what came after this crater was blasted into creation; of how he, the World Weaver, saved the hot spring up the mountain from an early demise and how the Owl prevented the land from becoming a tainted land of death. It came in the shape of… tasks, that lesson.

Mine happened to be the first. A simple task, in practice. If not a daunting one in scale. My task was to grow accustomed to my blessings by manipulating space and gravity to shape the crater as I saw fit. To create mounds and mountains and valleys and trenches on a whim. When I finished, the child of metal and machine went with the charred wolf, implanting machines and burning roots into seemingly random areas before those four of water, steam, ice, and winter fulfilled their task by casting and casting some more. And when all that remained was similar to what we saw before, an unbroken sheet of steaming water sealing the crater away, Amun turned to us with a cheeky smile.

"Always clean up after yourselves."

With that simple message, the Troupe went about their business for the next several days of perpetual noon. For some, that included raiding nearby camps or strongholds to recruit more subordinates through the act of liberation. Or undead through countless battles. That indeed included me. For I had a suspicion that required me to add a young goblin, hobgoblin, bearbug, and an ogre to my ranks. As did Sam and Redd, with the former taking a half-orc slave from a human camp and hiring her as a butcher, and the latter recruiting a human and a young dwarf; both recently orphaned and on their own. As for Amun, however. He took to meditating the moment the Troupe dispersed. Accompanied only by my Astrosage, who looked over his intense focus for days on end. Watching the ethereal blue fire stockpile within bead after meditation bead, leaving behind scorched glyphs that glowed with more power than the last.

The end of the 13th day inside the domain- the 13th hour outside- was when the 13th bead glowed. In an instant, the energy contained in the set flowed into Amun's system to merge with his existing ki, forcing the circuits to expand until the pressure had nowhere to go but the second Ki Pond, forcing it open.

What was an ethereal shroud of blue fire before was now a throbbing veil of blue that hugged Amun's body tightly. An impressive and often foreboding sight to any who saw it. But those of our profession knew such a sight signaled only the beginning. And the rewards that came with it were… paltry.

At least for our kind.

<<"You must be disappointed.">> I landed next to him with a harsh laugh. <>

He only rolled his head in response. Then, with the least amount of focus and no ki at all, he detached himself from the ground and began levitating in place. Frowning from his inability to move while his brows remained high in pleasant surprise.

<<"That is not ki. Nor is it magic you are using. You are using the natural power of our species.>> I told him, mimicking the action by drawing on the strength of my blood. <<"All drow with so-called royal blood have innate powers of levitation. And more.">> Rather than explain, I snapped, pointing at Amun to limn his body in fluorescent gray-violet flames that flickered harmlessly against his skin. <<"Such as Faerie Flames.">>

I hardly got the words out when he snapped in kind, lining my body in bright blue-green flames before he childishly beamed. <<"What else can we do?">>

<<"Nothing you already cannot.">> I snickered with a gesture toward my shadow.

He either caught the drift or did not care to. Instead, he looked around the endless plains and smiled at a gathering of torches and steel in the extended distance.

<<"Speaking of. I suppose this is a good time to experiment with arcane casting. I've done it once before. Blew off my great-grandfather's arm.">> He chortled, shaking his head in nostalgia. <<"Then he raged. I think.">>

<<"Uh… yes.">> I muttered, lost as to what to say for only a moment. <<"I am versed in wizardry. But in truth, that is my brother's expertise.">>

<<"Your brother?">>

<<"Eban Za'Darmondiel, the Second Son.">> I nodded. To which, Amun gave me a strange look, almost like he… remembered. <<"He is both the Arch Wizard and Heart Keeper- head witch- of the House. Much to his chagrin, however, he is only recognized as the latter.>>

<<"I see. And what were you?">>

<<"House Abbot, and Head Monk of Nydorden Halls.">> I huffed. <<"Yet the Champion's Teacher as well. I assumed I would become the War Master like my father once my task was complete. Or, more likely, I would be sacrificed for knowing too much as a male.">>

<<"Instead, you are here.">> Amun said in somewhat of a rough tone. One I couldn't quite place. <<"I can't imagine Etyl is too happy about that.">>

<<"As you would say, fuck that bitch.">>

Amun took off into the night with a roaring laughter and I followed in kind, screeching through the skies while I conjured every memory of arcane wizardry I'd ever learned. Though I suspected he knew at least half of it already. Thus I surmised it as simply as I could have. <<"The limits of arcane spellcasting are dependent on the wizard's knowledge of nature. To make mana behave like fire, they must know the nature of fire and how it behaves. But they must also know that the spell is, at heart, mana, not fire mana, and thus will never become fire. It will not spread if you loosen your focus, for example.">>

He took the cryptic knowledge in stride, nodding subtly before turning his fiendish eyes to his playground below, where a company of dwarves faced off against a mob of orcs, unknowing of the goblin horde rolling over the hill, eager to scavenge the remains from both sides.

I could only grin ear-to-ear at the sight. <<"This should be interesting. I shall watch from here and judge you as you go.">>

A Satellite trailed him across the skies as he went, giving me a firsthand view of Amun hovering above the goblin horde with a wicked smile. The goblins, emboldened by their numbers, charged, shot, and cast the moment they noticed the lone drow; now floating only meters before them.

Then proceeded the slaughter.

He drifted lazily through the skies, easily dodging quarrels and rocks while he cast spells at seemingly random groups. Mana was used to vibrate the air itself until it was heated enough to combust clothes and give an amber glow to any weapons in the area. Others were drowned and swept away beneath a wave of arcane water. Others were squished flat from mana hands or thrown into the distance. Mana was compressed into javelins and thrown or compressed into bombs or projected into concentrated blasts akin to ki beams. Whatever whims came upon him, it seemed, the mana obliged completely.

Not a surprise, coming from the God of Mana.

For a time, the sight stunned the orcs and dwarves into a stalemate. But only for a time. Several broke ranks to kill off the few hundred goblins in full retreat and many more spun to turn their blades on Amun. Then, it became my turn to be stunned when Amun held his palms up to both sides and shouted in the Dwarvish tongue, "While seared by the Fire Mountain's Heat, I say I am not your enemy!" Then the Orcish tongue, "Hold!" Ki translated the words for my ears just as the words danced across my eyes as he barked, stunning me and the dwarves, but not the orcs.

They were unlike the orcs slaves seen in Zimysta Falls. Even our high-orcs were much smaller than the one leading the pack. He was taller than Freki's 2 meters, with arms and legs like tree branches connected to a thick trunk of muscle. A headdress of finger bones and fur adorned the head of their chieftain or whatever the orcs called themselves, and his belt bore the skulls of at least four different creatures while an axe head as wide as his shoulder blades remained strapped to his back, heaving with each breath.

He stomped towards Amun, stopping a meter before him with his fists held low. Then leaned forward to crease his leathery red skin into a strange smile. "I've met your kind, Nox Legionary," he growled. "Rain Men and Amazonian Marines, Soldiers, and Warriors. Great fighters, they are. Real fighters. Bluszil approves."

Amun grinned wider and spread his arms to reveal the ancient arboreal mark etched onto his clothes. "I appreciate your words. I am their Supreme Chieftain- Grandmaster of the Legio Noctis, Amun of the Nox."

Focusing on the happening, I melded into the darkness and crept closer, gaining multiple angles of the chieftain looking Amun over a final time and calling his mob to retreat before he turned back to him with a curious nod. "Well met, Amun of the Nox. Welcome to Bluszil's Land. Boss'll be pleased to hear we've met. It's been a while since we've had a real challenge."

"Now there's an idea." Amun snickered. "I have some prior obligations but I can be by in a few months or so. We'll arrange something fun- something to be remembered for the ages. In Rhar."

With that, the brute departed with his men, roaring with laughter the entire time. Wasting no time, Amun spun back on the dwarves. Specifically, to face the one with his foot pressed against an unconscious goblin's back, attempting to withdraw his axe from its nearly severed spine.

With a flick of his finger, the goblin was taken by a mass of umbral tendrils and subsequently rose from a puddle of darkness at Amun's feet.

"DIE, DARK ELF!"

The scream battered against the night. Yet the rumble of a dozen charging dwarves growled louder and louder once they met Amun's spatial domain spell and heard him laughing at their vain attempts to run across an infinite expanse.

"Damned dark elves and yer magic! Face me, coward!" The dwarf bellowed, banging his hammer against his shield as if to taunt Amun.

"How feral." Amun laughed, then paused to light a burnbud cigar. "Tell me, do you just… attack every dark elf you see?"

"We know what yer kind does! Slavers!" He seethed, echoed by a cacophony of similar statements.

"Jeez…" Amun scoffed, shaking his head. "In my eyes, that makes you as evil as you think I am. At least," he pressed through the uproar. "I only kill those who attack me unprovoked. And there are many- far too many of those types. They're starting to give me a bad name." He leaned back with an exasperated groan. "The way it's looking, I'm going to have to go out and do some good if I want any recruits.

"Again." He groaned once more.

"Do some good." A random dwarf spat. "You spider-demon lovin' scum could never do good."

I could not help myself. I stepped out of the gloom, approaching the dwarf calmly but with a menacing sneer that set dozens of them on edge. "Look into my eyes, dwarf. Tell me what color they are." He grunted and turned away. But I met his gaze once more and growled. "Tell me."

"Gold." He muttered.

"Not red." I leaned back, spreading my arms and spinning for all to see. "That means I am free of demonic spiders."

"And what o' ye?" he waved his axe towards Amun's amiable smile.

"Oh, I have a little devil in me."

"A devil, doin' good. Well color me impressed!"

"If ye want to do good, then kill all them goblin scum!" one of them shouted.

"I refuse to commit mindless genocide." Amun snorted. "So instead, I'll make everyone understand what awaits those who blindly attack me."

"Doesn't commit genocide, says the Nox-devil." One of them spat.

"Half-devil." Amun laughed again as his magic was replaced with sheer wickedness.

He began to shrink as it consumed him, spreading from the markings on his chest to form some sort of umbral robe, adorned with the great tree of darkness standing before a setting sun of silver. he wicked darkness reached down his back and up his neck to take the shape of a stiff collar and twin coattails. Then fell to replace his trousers with the same solid darkness that became his clawed hands and feet.

"The Elven Devil." The Void Imp grimly hissed in that gratingly fast tone. "And above all, I am a devil of my word. So believe me when I say, my fight is not with you, dwarves. But if you wish to attack me, those of you that survive will see you and your kin cursed ad infinitum."

As if to prove his point, Amun lifted his hand, bringing the dead and those attempting to cling to life to float overhead in rank and file. When the haunting words of Amun's abyssal tongue spread through the darkness, a wave of corruptive wickedness followed, seeping into the dying goblins, orcs, and dwarves to imbue them with horns and tails and energies of ice and fire before they were sent away in a flash of silver light.

"There is no mercy for those who seek to harm me and mine," Amun said, giving each dwarf in the vicinity an amiable smile. "Only a violent death. And for the Nox, death is not the end. Death is simply… a door; one we can step through with ease. So, go on, dwarves. Let us go our separate ways. And should you truly wish to free your people of these so-called goblin scum, do it your-fucking-selves. Become the monsters you so hate.

"But," he smiled in a completely different way, "should you wish to verify my claim of not being your enemy. Or should you wish to become paragons of yourselves in ways that would please the Forge Mother, the Fire Mountain, and the All-Smithy, I would advise you to seek out one Geingurr Redstone of Deerchstal. Or, better yet, my good friend Elsgril Silverforge."

"Silver…" the dwarf muttered, and after Amun pointed to a distant rock floating above the mountains to the north, they gathered for a lengthy deliberation before backpedaling into the distance, never facing their backs to us until they vanished from sight.