The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

Marina Lainsfont’s mini-arc. 4/4.

***

 

Despite her many talents, Marina wasn’t infallible.

She recognised this early. The first time she’d attempted to feed fruit slimes with watermelons laced with anabolic enhancing strength potions was a disaster. 

Not because the potions didn’t work. No, they were exemplary. But rather because she’d overestimated her own ability to memorise weights and quantity. 

No matter how many times she replicated the procedure, the results were the same. A fruit slime slowly absorbing a watermelon with no effect in sight. And her only proof was somewhere in the world. A fruit slime bouncing away with the grace and leaping strength of a mountain goat. 

Since then, she ensured that she recorded all her endeavours. Proper note taking. That was an important lesson. And by no means her first.

They say life was a lesson. And for Marina, she was her own teacher.

She rued the state of magical education in the kingdom. Between the Mage’s Guild and the Royal Institute of Magic, they managed the feat of overlooking the talents of just about everybody who showed a crumb of talent. Most of those fortunate enough to receive magical tuition did so by the charity of other mages. 

Marina was not fortunate. She never had been.

She’d made do instead, learning from the things her father would return with after another season away to be a legend or a ghost. Her toys were not sticks and stones. But basilisk scales and auroch horns. And the books she read rarely held a happy ending … especially for the playground where she first learned to ward away winter.

The bonfire that day had sent the town into a frenzy. 

She remembered the condemnation the most. A moment to celebrate her blooming talents, souring instead at the start of a veritable witch hunt. The punishments being demanded would have sent hardened criminals fainting that day. 

Yet few words carried across the winds faster than the shouts of distressed parents and the snotty tears of their offspring. And those listening from atop the Royal Institute of Mages heard it well. 

Barely two nights passed before one appeared, snapping into existence to offer a hand in the dark.

Marina never once considered taking it.

As a rule of thumb, she didn’t do regrets. She was too busy for that. But if she did, her decision to spurn the mage who’d personally come to fetch her was one she’d repeat over and over … if only to see the expression of indignation he wore. 

An expression she briefly saw as the man cracked his head slowly back into place.

Snap.

She decided once was enough.

“[Cloud Step].”

Cradling Observations Of The Grave, definitive 13th edition in her arms, she sped away from a death knight politely allowing her to pass, before swiftly heading down the corridors. Her feet skipped over the shattered corpses of golems and gorgoyles as easily as a gazelle over stones, lifted by the magic in her soles. But it wasn’t fast enough. 

The fallen guardians were proof of that.

She clicked her tongue as she hurried across, cursing the runes laden into the walls preventing speedy teleportation. She’d need a few moments at least. She didn’t need to be precise. But she needed to at least ensure that when she gated, it would be relatively near the ground and not buried beneath it. 

Even so, that’d be a preferable end to anything that buffoon could wish upon her. 

Because as galling as it was, she needed to escape.

A lich.

Alberic Terchel had already died.

At some points, his observations on necromancy had become practical activities. The thin veil of magical research used to justify his studies was unravelled. And what remained was only typical.

One who had given himself over to the darkest arts. 

A result so expected she wondered why holy water hadn’t been prepared to drop from the ceiling.

Marina would have snorted if she didn’t need to use her every breath to shift her legs.

Lichdom. 

A prize many considered worth the sacrifice. Moreem, Calix, Rensworth. A list of names gradually receding in importance, now finished by the unworthiest of them all. 

To them, becoming a lich was to become unbeholden to death. A master of it. In exchange for flesh and soul, the most powerful of living mages could become the most powerful of unliving mages. 

An undead horror. The undead horror. 

Where dragons commanded the sky, liches commanded the grave. The undisputed paragons of the undead, their magic amplified by what they were in life, now forever boosted in death. 

Yet no grand power came for naught. There was a balance somewhere, even if the scales had long been broken. Just as their vampiric rivals possessed a crippling weakness to the sun–liches possessed a crippling weakness in their phylacteries. 

Wherever their soul was stored, so was the means to their destruction. 

A boon for every party of goody two shoes adventurers to come. But a severe negative for one who approached without any prior preparation. And Marina did not like doing anything unprepared.

Fleeing included. 

Snap.

Headmaster Alberich reappeared before her, unbeholden to the runes which prevented immediate teleportation. His head now securely facing the right way, his cheeks twitched in irateness, the muscle spamming at odds with the twinge of a smile playing at his lips.

“You tried to murder me,” he said only half-musingly. “With my own book.”

Marina pursed her lips, eyeing the top of the staircase past him. The runes were weaker there. Damaged. As were the guardians which littered this floor.

“I note I wasn’t the only one,” she replied, the book in her arms acting as her shield as much as the barrier around her. “At what point did the golems realise their own headmaster had betrayed all those who slept in the floors below?”

“Stunningly late. They were most professional. Until the moment the last gallon of blood was offered and my phylactery made whole, they were inclined to believe that I might see reason and stop my drive for immortality. I was glad. Given their magic resistance, I would have been eventually overwhelmed. Or at least if I hadn’t brought insurance.”

Marina pursed her lips as the insurance’s footsteps sounded behind her.

She turned, only to feel a sense of disgust as she saw the death knight approaching as though called. Where liches were the royalty of the undead, death knights were their greatest champions. For the headmaster to feel the need for both to entrap her was evidence of how unworthy he was for lichdom.

Uncertainty. A human trait. This man had only recently performed the rites. 

And that meant he was still prone to human errors.

“They should have stopped you at once,” she said as the flames returned to her palms, engulfing even the book she carried. “That you now have more time to add to your waffling prose is a horror no library deserves.”

“Your words hurt me more than your spells, Miss Lainsfont. I like to think I best my peers in many things, but writing ability is assuredly one of them.”

“It isn’t.”

The headmaster paused for just a moment. He took the opportunity to complete his smile.

“Well, I’d be happy to consider your complaints–providing, of course, that you’ve a mind to reconsider my offer. Call it a whim, but I believe we’d make for an excellent student and master. We could write tales, you and I. And yes, I’d be happy to include your name somewhere in the foreword.”

“The thought is more horrifying than your glamour. And that’s quite the achievement … no, unlike you, I’ve no need to offer my soul for power. My blood is all I need.”

“Yes. Your blood. You do not know this, but I see within you flames which burn brighter than any paltry candlelight you could wield. It would be a cold world were it to be extinguished.”

In response, the flames in her palms grew ever greater, warping the very air around it.

“Then I’ll make sure the world sees it. And as you already have, you can be excused.”

Suddenly, the headmaster’s demeanour waned, along with that nascent smile. 

“You should hope I do not respect that choice, Miss Lainsfont. Because when it comes to battling other mages, the most prudent choice is to immediately–”

“[Infernal Wall]!” 

A wall of fire rushed up to greet Headmaster Alberic’s face. He stood exactly where he was, allowing the flames to tickle his nose. There was no barrier present. He didn’t need it.

A bored hum reached her from across the fiery curtain.

“Hmm. A wide area spell reconstituted to strike a single foe. Mildly impressive, but still below par for one of your talents. Imagination and rapid spellwork is little good without focus. Magic is wistful, but you must not be. Potency and speed. It is not one or the other. It is both or neither. This would not harm me even if I were not broadly immune to all magic.”

Marina didn’t respond.

After all, she was already nearing the end of her next spell. Time was all she required. And nothing took longer than an old man’s ramblings.

“[Arcane Tele–”

“No.”

Marina suddenly stilled.

Her spell suddenly ground to a halt, the magic dissipating from her hands. But not through any counterspell meeting her. She’d undone it herself, ending her spell as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Ah, so my passive [Suggestion] does work,” said Headmaster Alberic, stepping cleanly through the disappearing wall of flames. He smiled like an academic in the midst of an experiment. “But to what extent, I wonder? Can you, say, do a headstand while reciting the national anthem?”

A ridiculous proposal. And one which Marina felt very much inclined to do.

But not her body.

She grimaced and clenched her teeth, her frame shaking much to the headmaster’s apparent surprise. 

Fwooooooooooooosh.

A moment later … the flames were born anew. And not only in her hands.

It gathered wildly around her like a cloak, dispelling … burning his [Suggestion].

“Well, now,” said the headmaster quietly. “Isn’t this something?”

The magic surged, her blood feeling as though it were boiling. The indignation. The wrongness she felt at being commanded. It was disgusting. Because in that moment, she was an empress. She was flames as bright as summer. And the gnat before her was worth less than the wayward ember it would take to destroy him. She was stronger. Better. She felt it. She knew it. And she would not allow some ridiculous old man hoping to tread the least of roads to tell her–

“[Paralysing Touch].”

Tap.

As swift as lightning, a hand reached out through the flames. And without any inkling of magic playing at the fingertip, it touched Marina on the shoulder.

Marina’s eyes widened.

It was the only part of her that moved. No matter how hard she willed her muscles, they could neither tense nor relax. Marina had become a statue, no different to the busts left behind in the headmaster's chamber.

As swiftly as they came, the flames died, doused by the cold magic of a lich’s touch.

“Apologies, Miss Lainsfont, but as much as I enjoy indulging in my curiosity, I could sense something about to occur which needs to be overseen in a more secure environment.”

Marina moved to speak. She couldn’t. Her lips were sealed. Only her brows could move. 

And the scowl she forced together spoke something worse than any words she could utter.

“I know exactly how you feel,” said Headmaster Alberic. “The reality of the gap between us is quite disconcerting. No matter how imaginative you seek to be, nothing can beat raw power. And I have both that and superior technique. Still, I see clearly that perhaps in time, you may surpass one or the other.”

The headmaster raised a hand. It burned violet with death. And yet his eyes only narrowed as he appraised Marina more like a subject than any living thing.

Like a reagent.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You may yet mature.”

Suddenly, the colour of his spell changed.

“[Greater Arcane Teleport].”

Marina found herself pulled through corridors which fought to keep her away. 

Ancient stone and runes raging with fury sought to bar the way of her and the one dragging her. They fell or gave way like pebbles on a beach, shoved away by the sudden riptide.

A moment later–

Snap.

She blinked as dawn met her eyes. 

Gone were the walls of the Royal Institute. But not the tower itself. 

She could tell even without moving her head that she now stood at a great height. The wind blew at her hair and her robes, threatening to topple her still form. 

It was the very top of the Royal Institute of Mages. 

The focal point of all the magic to gather around it. And for now, a peak taller than the sun itself.

It rose in the distance, bringing with it the sound of songbirds and a shimmering horizon alight with colour. A sight mesmerising enough to cause even a mage with all the world at their fingertips to falter. But not a lich. The sun was no ally. And it was already clear how he treated his foes.

“The days ahead will be somewhat uncomfortable for you, Miss Lainsfont,” he said, as he took in the golden horizon. “But there’s no reason why it shouldn’t still be a learning experience. Allow me, therefore, to offer another lesson in the fundamentals of magic.”

He turned to Marina, then plucked the book from her hand.

Turning to the very last pages, he held it in one hand while raising his other … almost as though to lift the sun.

Instead, his palm began to grow black. 

Dark magic drawn from depths lower than where shadows reside weaved like a cocoon around his hand. As they did so, the pages of his book began to flick wildly to a force greater than any breeze.

“Remember, always, that one is the least powerful number,” said Headmaster Alberic. “For as inspiring as the greatest archmage can be, two is always stronger. There is more to be gained through the spirit of partnership and cooperation than through any solo endeavour. A rule which has earned this institute many accolades and successes. It is one I personally ascribe to. A like minded collaboration, you see, is a beautiful thing. And this applies even if one is a lich.”

He smiled.

“Thus … [Eulogy Of The End].”

He spoke. 

Words laced with so much forbidden power that the tower quaked, threatening even to fall.

Perhaps that would have been a mercy.

As a tear sundered the sky … the very world began to darken. And Marina could see it was not his magic that was causing it.

It was what awaited on the other side.