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238 Old Enemies Meeting Once More
🕑 Added 2025-04-25 23:00:01 +0000 UTC– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Setting Sun, Day 42 –
Terry fought on with a single-minded purpose. His eyes never left the monster to be slain. He expressed his desperate rage in the words of unrestrained violence. He translated his hatred into perpetual pain inflicted on the body of the monster.
Transfixing its teeth before smashing its head around.
Shifting shrapnel into organs.
Grinding bones into dust.
Terry felt the offered mana diminishing. A corner of his mind reminded him that this wasn’t like the situation in the folded space. It couldn’t be. Even if a nearby dungeon had chosen to assist him, he wasn’t really inside the dungeon. He was fighting on borrowed time and he knew it.
A part of his mind was screaming at him to use the chance to flee, but Terry refused. He refused to let it end like this.
He refused to let the monster go.
He could still hear Ying’s final growl.
“Never again.”
Sensing the mana flow diminish and his control over the available mana lessen only served to spur Terry on to push harder. If his time was running out, then he had to be faster.
Faster.
Never again.
With less available mana and reach, Terry prioritized his disruption domain and targeted fields to prevent the monster from escaping. He sacrificed quantity for quality and began accentuating his divine hammers with the movements of his own body. His attacks became less plentiful but more powerful.
Terry could feel that his control over the borrowed mana was lessening faster than the available mana. He adapted by switching to more mana-hungry attacks that required less reach.
His king spear shook the heavens and guided their fury into the monster.
His other arm never ceased summoning mana cores to sublimate.
Immovable blades of ice and metal waited for the monster wherever the blasts and divine hammers pushed it, all while its bones were repeatedly transfixed and forcefully drifting in opposite directions.
Terry was fighting at the edge of what his equipment, his body, and the inscriptions inside both were capable of.
Still, the monster refused to die. Terry would have been impressed if his overflowing hatred had allowed for any other emotion when seeing the monster continuing to breathe.
When Matteo arrived, Terry should have felt relieved.
When Terry’s other whaka arrived, he should have felt happy.
But Terry felt nothing.
Nothing but hatred and an all-consuming desire to finally kill the monster.
At some point, Terry had stopped blinking. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Ying, saw the other people of Syn City.
If he stopped, he would think.
If he stopped, he would remember. Remember what happened to Ying. Remembering would force him to realize. Realize what must have happened to the rest of Syn City.
So Terry didn’t stop. He continued fighting with a single-minded frenzy that would put any martialist to shame for their pitiful bloodlust.
Terry wasn’t the only one. His whaka fought with comparable intensity, and the borrowed power Terry lost with time was made up for by a combined hatred of a family avenging one of their own.
Soon, there were more.
Lich Kingdom soldiers had rushed over to defend their prince, but they were being intercepted by allied forces brought over by Amelia.
Eventually, Mia, the elven Guildhead his aunt Brynn had hired, appeared with a dimensional gate.
Soldiers, constructs, and soul spirits were pouring in.
If Terry had been calmer, he would have been able to sense that the two main battles had already been won. With every enemy gate vanquished. With the Twisted Duchess lying dead in front of Siyu. With the Risen Duchess captured and bound by a Thanatos commander.
But Terry had no mind for taking stock of the different battlefields.
Terry had a monster to slay.
Never again.
The monster was nearing its last breath. No more ritual empowerment. No more items. No more mana in its pool.
Never again.
Terry forced his mana into a final disruption burst before charging toward the bloody pulp on the ground. Even this close to killing the monster, he didn’t trust the situation. If he was to get close, then he would ensure that he was as hard a spell target as possible.
Terry lunged back his king spear. Its blade was itching to pierce into the monster’s sinful skull and blow its brain apart before it could regenerate mana to save itself. His eyes were glued to the bloody mess that was the monster’s soon-to-be corpse.
Never again.
Terry’s spearhead was mere inches from the dying monster when a new mana signature stepped out of the shadows.
“Enough!” The lich king did not bother to target the offending mana cultivator directly with a spell. She could read from the cultivator’s mana intensity that her spells would fail to activate in time to save her disappointing spawn.
Instead, the lich king used a well-targeted force spell to push the cultivator away.
Terry transfixed his armor in time to lock himself in place, but his king spear was ripped from his hands by the sudden force. A rope of shadow immediately pulled at the spear to retrieve it.
Isille and Bjorln burst their mana beyond their limits and charged toward the lich king to protect their son without the slightest hesitation.
Samuel and Brynn frantically summoned barriers of every aspect they could think of.
Matteo and Emaldine followed suit and positioned themselves between Anand and the lich king. The purple lightning dragon rushed towards the lich king while Matteo struck Soul Fury towards Anand.
Martialist elders threw themselves at the lich king with maddened battle cries and commands to protect the Arcanian Returnee. To fight for the Venerable Elder!
“Worthless ants.” The lich king stomped her mage staff onto the floor. The ancient, loose robes ignited with power just like her staff, and all the other spells were no more. Everyone was hurled back from the threatened prince.
Everyone but Terry, whose Immovable Object on his equipment had reactivated an instant after its erasure.
“Impudent,” growled the lich king. As if it wasn’t enough for these ants to defy her commands. The cultivator that threatened her spawn didn’t accept mercy when it slapped him in the face. If non-lethal means were unappreciated, then she guessed she had to make an example. Who better than this stubborn mana cultivator?
The lich king whipped a spell to cut the shadow rope pulling at the king spear while dual-casting to turn the cultivator inside out. The pressure around her rose…
“Everyone stop!” Another mana signature appeared and countered the pressure emitted by the lich king.
Isille and Bjorln gasped upon seeing the man, who was clearly wearing the colors of Arcana. With the power shown, this could only be…
“Magic Sovereign,” muttered Samuel, and he sent an uncertain glance towards Brynn at his side.
Terry could feel the people inhaling sharply. He could hear the lich king preparing to speak. He himself had heard the order of his empire’s highest authority.
He inhaled deeply.
A magic sovereign on one side.
A lich king on the other side.
Terry could only think of one thing.
Never again.
He squeezed every bit of his remaining mana into the divine hammer inscription and punched out. His arm wasn’t close enough to reach, but that didn’t stop the divine hammer from flying forward.
The monster’s skull and brain burst into a puddle of blood and gore.
Terry finally exhaled. His spell deactivated, and he fell to his knees. His family was already rushing forward to shield him from whatever was coming…
“You dare.” The lich king’s pressure increased.
The magic sovereign momentarily stared at Terry with surprise, but quickly recovered his composure to counter the lich king. “I said stop.”
“Oh?” The green flames in the lich king’s eye sockets pulsed with anger. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?” Her eyes flickered to Terry and back to the magic sovereign. “And I don’t think I take orders from you, Alvaro.”
“And I don’t think you or the other lich kings have forgotten the last time we faced you, Bethany,” retorted Alvaro. “I admit I didn’t expect my words to be defied by…” He glanced at Terry again before shaking his head and focusing on the lich king. “But I will not stand idly if you or any other lich king gets involved.”
Alvaro glared at Bethany with contempt. “You and I both know that you haven’t lost anything you truly value here.”
“Oh?” Dark green mana flowed around Bethany’s fingers as she scoffed. “Magic makes my spawn plentiful, but most grow into useless worms to be fed to my pets.”
“Precisely,” hissed Alvaro. “Even if you had any familial affection left in those bones, which we both know you don’t, I doubt the necromancer’s phylactery was very far. A significant loss, to be sure, but this is hardly worth pushing our tolerance, is it?”
“Screw the spawn! That spawn was more promising as a prince than many others, but that’s beside the point. I don’t care about him suffering a setback. I care about it happening in my territory. Having my authority questioned in my own territory? Unavenged?” Bethany growled. “Do you really think I would let this go?”
“Ah, but here’s where we disagree, Lich King.” Alvaro’s eyes turned even colder. “This isn’t your territory. Not as far as we are concerned.”
Bethany’s green eye flames flickered with uncertainty.
“At the end of the Era of Upheaval, we cast a vote,” said Alvaro. “The outcome was inevitable after those we aimed to protect had betrayed us. We reached the decision to pull out of the conflict. We acknowledged the borders of that era, given that the other empires had evidently done so already.”
Alvaro stepped closer and his voice turned colder. “Against my vote, I should mention. I was in favor of eradicating the disease that is your empire. The only reason I never raised the issue again with the others is that, unfortunately, there appear to be folks that actually prefer living under your rule. Folks that prefer living by your ways. As unfathomable as that is to myself, I have to accept it.”
Alvaro’s mana flared. “But don’t think we’ve forgotten. Don’t think we’re blind to your actions. This territory isn’t yours. This is beyond the borders of the last era.” He gestured at the allied forces present. “And evidently, your rule here has not been accepted.”
Alvaro clenched his fists, and the rings on his fingers glowed with power. “When we heard about another alliance forming against your renewed uprising, I secured a tentative agreement.” His eyes appeared to pierce into the green flames within Bethany’s eye sockets. “The moment the lich kings move, the magic sovereigns will react.”
Alvaro observed the lich king’s reactions and then continued. “My interference here has only served to erase yours, so we are where we started. If you intend to push further, then you’ll face all of us.”
A derisive cackle rose from somewhere in Bethany’s skull. “That threat is not as powerful as it used to be, Alvaro. You’re not blind to our actions? Well, we aren’t blind to yours, either, Magic Sovereign.”
Bethany’s flames pulsed with pride. “We’ve pushed the boundaries of magic while you’ve become crippled by your cowardly taboos. We’ve only become stronger while you’ve weakened yourself with the burdens you accepted.”
Bethany stepped closer and allowed the mana to flare through her soul-bound staff. “You dare threaten us? You’re really not the threat you used to be. We know full well how thin you’re spread.”
“So you know of the threats and yet you’re standing idly by?” Alvaro’s eyes burned with contempt.
“Oh, do the mighty sovereigns need a hand to protect this realm?” Bethany sneered. “We could help, of course. But what for? So that we can suffer the fate of the First Lich King? Repelling the external threat, only for the others of this realm to then turn around and call us monsters? To attack us because we are willing to do what is necessary?
“Bah!” Bethany uttered a derisive snort. “Not again, I’m afraid. Sometimes, it has to get worse before it can get better. You’re on your own, because this realm needs a reminder. The First Lich King has done more to liberate this realm from the remnants of the False Gods than any of your precious Faithless Saints. Proud accomplishments second only to the Veilbinder himself! And yet the name of the First Lich King gets taught with shame and guilt in the other empires!
“Maybe after this realm has once again been washed in blood, the people will remember that your precious morals are something only the uncontested victor can afford. The beaten and enslaved will not be consoled by the reasons for your loss. But the survivors might finally understand. Finally remember what is necessary to protect this realm.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you fail soon, Magic Sovereign,” hissed the lich king. “Perhaps the sooner the better for this realm.”
The lich king tilted her staff towards the magic sovereign. “I don’t think you are in any position to threaten us. You dare to challenge us as you are now?” She snorted. “Risk what you are doing? For what? For an ant?” She gestured at Terry.
“In a heartbeat,” replied Alvaro firmly. Magical armor appeared on his body. “For what is right.”
“That’s why you’ll lose,” hissed Bethany. “That’s why this realm is better off without you.” Inscriptions flared across the bones visible through her loose robes.
With a powerful spatial distortion, a third presence manifested. A wrinkly, white-haired elven man stepped forth. Cold eyes rested on Bethany. “I was already on my way, filth, but you made me rush. You dare to raise your mana in the presence of a magic sovereign?”
“Uncle?” Mia involuntarily shrunk back. She had tried to stay out of the way of the two powerhouses opposing each other, silently cursing the madman that had dared to defy their orders. Now her uncle arrived and barged right into the middle of the conflict. This was madness.
“You…” Bethany looked at Naer. “Haven’t aged well, brat.”
Naer didn’t grace her with a response. He had agreed to put his fiendish cloak back into his storage item and put Weran to rest. Agreed to adopt again the name he had been born with in the Elusian Empire’s territory within this realm: Naer.
Naer had once again joined Hope, who, to his chagrin, had not intended to immediately move to crush the Lich Kingdoms, but first to sort out the mess that had been the Tiv Empire. However, when Naer sensed a magic sovereign move at the same location as a lich king, he couldn’t wait any longer. Not even for the Valkyrie.
“But you’ve grown commendably,” praised Bethany. “Just look at what the little cowering brat has turned into.” She glanced at the magic sovereign. “See what the right attitude can achieve in such a short time as a few hundred years?”
“Allow me to join the fight, my sovereign,” requested Naer.
“I hope there won’t be a fight at all,” said Alvaro.
“What a shame,” said Bethany. The inscriptions on her bones were fading. The grown-up brat in front of her had reminded her that a battle with the magic sovereigns wouldn’t just end there. There were more monsters lurking in Arcana than the magic sovereigns.
“Shame indeed,” growled Naer.
“Shame indeed,” repeated Bethany while her eye flames danced with amusement. She looked between the magic sovereign and the rogue mage. “You know, you could learn something from your citizen here, Alvaro. This elf knows what it means to remember and to make sure others don’t forget. To do what is necessary for a better future.
“We’ve monitored you, elf.” Her gaze fixed on Naer. “Such a shame you’ve been born in the wrong empire. If you ever feel like putting your silly vendetta to rest, we would have a seat for you among the lich kings.”
Naer spat on the floor. “Don’t flatter yourself, filth. I’m nothing like you.”
“Oh?” Bethany emitted an eerie giggle. “Did you not infest the Tiv Empire with dimensional gates to invite monsters right to their settlements? Avenge the plot against Arcana’s barrier? I understand though. It was necessary, right?”
“The Tiv Empire deserved it,” growled Naer.
“And I’m sure every dead soul agrees,” retorted Bethany. “Even the manaless.”
“They allowed the Preacher to happen,” hissed Naer. “Manaless or not. They gave him power. They didn’t resist him. They were responsible.”
“I understand,” assured Bethany. “And I’m sure every dead child and orphan does, too. I understand even better than you do. Sacrificing the few to preserve the many. Teaching a lesson. Advancing magic. Protecting this realm. Sometimes, sacrifice is necessary.”
Bethany spread her arms. “The difference between you and us is simply that you are too short-sighted. You understand the collective guilt for raising a beast, for allowing it to grow until it bites those that are off-limits. We simply acknowledge that rot can grow deeper.” Her eye flames focused on the magic sovereign. “Allowing the realm to grow weak and ripe for slaughter is just as much a crime as allowing an unruly beast to grow within your midst.”
Bethany cackled with derision. “Where were you, Alvaro, when the beast next to you invited death and destruction onto the doorsteps of the ants? We watched with understanding, but what about you?”
“We’re not the judges of this realm,” said Alvaro. He clenched his fist and looked at the old elf. “If it had been up to me, we would have stopped him.”
Naer clicked his tongue with displeasure.
“But what then?” Alvaro shook his head. “We have voted not to impose our will on other empires, and that goes both ways. If we are to overlook the mages being hunted by Tiv’s imperial censors, then we cannot have an eye for the other crimes committed in that empire, either. We either rule by our laws or leave it to other empires to enforce their own.”
Alvaro moved his gaze between the two other powerful archmages. “I have my own views, but I understand our vote.”
“And what about the one that’s coming?” teased Bethany. “Hope, was it? The ‘mighty’ Valkyrie.” She cackled again.
“Don’t dare spout her name,” growled Naer.
“Why not?” spat Bethany. “She’ll come here to ‘crush’ us, right? I’m looking forward to it. I was tempted many times to go to that dungeon and drain her blood myself for her past impudence, but I have to admit the thought of her being locked up was pleasing in another delicious way.”
Naer’s mana flared.
“Don’t get angry at me, elven brat.” Bethany’s eye flames danced tauntingly. “We were enemies and acted as such. Remember it was Tivius that sold her out. Not to mention those that knew about her fate and didn’t intervene.” She gestured towards Alvaro.
“My sovereign…?” Naer stared at Alvaro.
“We didn’t know,” said Alvaro.
“Bull,” spat Bethany.
“But we suspected,” admitted Alvaro.
“And you did nothing?!” demanded Naer in a low growl.
“We warned the Valkyrie about our suspicions,” said Alvaro. “She chose to believe her friend over our warnings. We ensured that our suspicions were made known after her disappearance. We made it a point to have it included in all Arcanian history books.” He shook his head. “But the rest of the alliance chose to believe what allowed the fighting to stop. They didn’t want to believe us and we had already voted to isolate ourselves.”
Alvaro moved his eyes between the two. “If not for that vote and its subsequent reaffirmation, I would not share the sky with the likes of either of you. The votes that abandoned the Valkyrie to her fate were the same that protected the both of you. Non-interference.”
Naer clenched his fist and involuntarily flared his mana. Having a man he respected disrespect him so much unsettled him more than he would like to admit.
“Honest to a fault,” sneered Bethany. “Another one of your self-harming vices.” She turned to Naer. “Well, if you ever tire of being disrespected by these self-righteous fools that allow the realm to cripple its potential, remember that there is a seat worthy of a king waiting for you.”
“I’d rather eat my own eyes,” growled Naer.
“We’ll see.” Bethany flicked her bony fingers and disappeared.
For a moment, it seemed like Naer wanted to say something, but in the end, he vanished without another word.
“Thank you, sovereign,” said Samuel.
Alvaro recognized the two Academy instructors. He wondered about the reasons why two teachers would appear in such a remote and tumultuous location. He nodded and walked towards the one who had defied him.
“Halt!”
“Not one step closer!”
“Don’t you dare!”
Alvaro raised an eyebrow at the horde of martialists standing in his way. “Move. The battle is over.”
“Says who?”
Other people rushed forward. A motley mix of armors and uniforms.
“We don’t take orders from you!”
“Yeah, we only listen to the Arcanian!”
“The Guardian!”
“Venerable Elder!”
Alvaro furrowed his brow in confusion. Evidently, he wasn’t the ‘Arcanian’ among those present whom these people respected the most, which was… unfamiliar.
Isille and Bjorln had already rushed forth and arrived next to Terry. The different parties had known them and allowed them through.
Samuel and Brynn hurried to explain the significance of the magic sovereign before anyone from the allied forces could get themselves killed.
Alvaro slowly walked forward. He noted with sorrow how the two dwarves tried to get the young man to snap out of his evident state of shock. Tears were streaming down the young man’s face while he was rocking back and forth, and mumbling to himself.
Alvaro sighed. He had wanted to speak to the young man that had defied him, but that would be cruel in his current state. The young man obviously needed medical attention and, above all, rest. He cast a sequence of archmage-level healing spells together with a spell to induce a calm sleep.
While Alvaro explained his spells to the concerned family, he caught a glimpse of something unexpected. At the boy’s back, hidden underneath a cloak of shadow fabric, there was the symbol of Arcana Academy.
“What…?” Alvaro took another careful look at the young man. He sensed his unconscious mana regeneration. He sensed his age. He… was stumped. The magic sovereign couldn’t remember any matching individual from among the Academy’s students. He was certain he would have remembered.
The reason he had wanted to talk to the young man was precisely the reason he was certain he would have remembered such a student.
Such an outstanding mana foundation.
Alvaro creased his brows and bent down to touch the Academy bag. It was authentic. He looked towards the two Academy instructors with an unspoken question.
“Terry was expelled,” said Samuel. “Second cycle. Major aspect impairment.”
Aspect impairment?
Alvaro looked back at the ‘Arcanian’ while the furrows on his brows deepened even further. He couldn’t detect any aspect impairment, but it would certainly explain things. If the boy had been expelled before the mission years, then it would explain why Alvaro didn’t remember him.
He strained his mana sight and cast supplementary spells to assist his examination. The young man’s mana appeared unaspected…
But…
Unusually active. Erratic movement where it should flow smoothly.
“Hm…” Alvaro glanced at the two instructors again.
“Oscillating mana,” said Samuel. “He’s actually collecting a lot of new insights into this rare mana type.”
Alvaro sighed. His interest waned when he had heard the confirmation. Aspect impairment. A pity. “Unfortunately, the Academy’s resources are limited. We cannot always know what challenges the future holds for us. Leaders require versatility to deal with whatever is required. Magic obliges.”
Samuel closed his eyes with clenched fists and sighed as well. He opened his eyes to take in all the people who had been willing to throw their lives away to protect his nephew. Not just his family, but people who were practically strangers. “If you say so, my sovereign.”
Samuel didn’t care to argue with a magic sovereign. Not while his nephew needed him. He didn’t know what had happened, but he guessed it had something to do with their own unexplained phenomenon.
Something to do with why Logan, the death knight, and his daughter Romana, the aspect archer from Syn City, had suddenly burst into cold flames and evaporated into mana.
As always, Samuel had questions, but his other concerns took priority. He ignored the mighty ruler of his native empire. He didn’t care to bid the magic sovereign farewell or prolong the exchange. He didn’t even look back when the magic sovereign teleported away.
Samuel rushed through the crowd to find the Spellcrusher. He could already see that Brynn had the same concern, only with their hired Guildhead Mia. Samuel could sense Matteo and Isille rummaging through their storage items, and he knew exactly which items they were looking for.
The magic sovereign had meant to help Terry.
He couldn’t have known how much worry a simple sleep spell could inspire in a family.
With Terry unconscious, there was no time to lose. Someone had to lock down the surrounding space. They would be damned if they allowed their hurting whaka to slip away from them another time.
Not again.
Never again.
***
Comments
Benji
Ooh! More peaks at the really big players. Fun to see bits from Alvaro's pov. Their name's feel familiar, did we know those before? Thanks for the chapter! I am excited to see how everything shakes out after this.
Sesharan
You know, I’d been thinking recently about how Anand became an interesting foil to Terry the moment that it was revealed that he was a Prince of the Lich Kings, because Terry is in a way a prince of Arcana. It’s fascinating to have had that thought right before this chapter. It’s almost a perfect mirror: one of the sovereigns of Arcana and one of the Lich Kings show up at the same time to defend one champion from each of their nations. But where Anand has apparently gotten the personal care and attention necessary to provide him with a phylactery, Terry is dismissed the moment that his aspect impairment is revealed. It’s a fascinating contrast.
