Black Magus

Following our departure from Odissi, Grandpa Lich assumed his perch behind the sky serpent’s head to brood while I sat next to my vassals, chattering amongst themselves about the shared desires to try out their newly acquired gear. An inevitability as far as I was concerned. So I instead sat and thought about my forefather's logic in having me take this horrid set of armor until the conversations died down, and I butted my way in.

“Were there any other purchases you happened to make?” I asked. “Any grimoires or tomes?”

“None.” Jonet shook her head. “I didn’t feel the need for any potions or enchantments. And I felt that your teachings would be far better than any old grimoire sitting in an overpriced market.”

“They’re wastes of money.” Toril chortled. “I have no interest in copying another’s spells anyway.”

“Fair enough.” I laughed. “What about you, Jaimess?”

He pulled the neck of a bottle partway out from his satchel as he meekly said. “Only a couple of pens, a nice journal, and a potion.”

“A potion?!” Toril turned to him with furrowed brows of bemusement.

“Yes. A potion.” Jaimess sneered back at him. “I happen to be curious about how they work. About what their limitations are.”

“As am I,” I said. “You should take the alchemy class sometime.”

“If my schedule ever lets up, I will.” He sighed.

“In that case.” I paused as the sky serpent began its descent towards the edge of Corvus Tower’s dead zone and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder once we settled on solid ground. “I’ll transcribe what I’ve learned in Urda’s class and relay it to you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jaimess bowed. And bowed again as Grandpa Lich's towering figure loomed before us.

“How wholesome.” He spat, turned, and gestured towards the Tower. “You three take some time to get accustomed to your gear. Your training resumes after the weekend. And Amun.” He scowled at me. “You see me tomorrow night.”

I wordlessly bowed in tune with my vassals as they acknowledged his orders and watched him step into a nearby shadow. Once he was gone, the four of us practically sprinted to an open patch of forest to rip our belongings from our rucks and in some cases, try them on.

“Who wants to go first?” I excitedly asked.

“I will!” Toril practically shouted as he ripped his axe from his pack and frivolously scanned the accompanying pamphlets. “Its name is... Storm Thief.” He declared, tossing the papers aside with a curious scowl.

“Show us what it can do,” I said.

Without a word, Toril stood, wound back his arm, and hurled the axe at a distant tree. With a dull, anticlimactic thud, the axe slammed to a halt in the trunk, carving a deep wedge in the bark. Almost hesitantly, Toril then reached out his hand, and in turn, the axe sort of budged. Wrenched in the tree before it broke free and hurtled through the air back to Toril’s palm.

‘Haven’t seen that before.’ I chuckled to myself as Toril’s awed eyes turned back to the rest of us.

“Is it heavy?” Jaimess asked.

“A little.” Toril shrugged. “But, I’ll get used to it.”

“And what about that?” Jonet pointed at the brace around Toril’s arm.

Held in place by leather straps around his arm and back, the brace consisted of a large, circular pad of armor around his heart that made the mane to the roaring lion of his pauldron, staring out from the point of his shoulder. From there, a matching black-bronze rerebrace, couter, and a thick, wedge-shaped vambrace covered the remainder of his arm; up to a curved plate that shrouded the back of his hand. Without a word, Toril curled his arm as if he were flexing his bicep and poured a bit of mana into the sleeve, prompting the wedge on his forearm to spring to life and unfurl a series of pie-like plates to make up a circular shield.

“That’s not all!” Toril beamed. Charging more electricity into his arm to conjure a field of plasma around the shield that veritably doubled its radius.

“Impressive!” I nodded as Toril killed and folded his plasma shield back into its closed position.

“It has... my parents' magic. My father's Tempest and my mother's Mist. Other than that, there are two unprimed enchantments in the head of Storm Thief for after our awakening. And the armor is said to be both physically and magically resistant.” With a prideful smile still plastered on his face, Toril sat under a tree and gestured for one of the other two to show and tell.

Following Jaimess passing along the torch, Jonet cheekily held up her jumpsuit and giggled out. “I was given a onesie. And needles!”

I admit it forced a bit of a chuckle out of my lungs. ‘It seems she’s taking her acting quite seriously.’ I thought, pinching the bridge of my nose in mild despair as she continued.

“It says it will silence my movements. And if it’s the only thing I’m wearing, I’ll turn invisible when not in direct light.” She paused to beam a ‘just like you!’ gaze in my direction before holding up a pair of needles for all of us to see. They looked like ornate hairpins or perhaps some strange type of wand, perhaps 25 centimeters in length. The handles were of wood or ivory and the blade was of an icy or silvery metal that menacingly stretched from her palm like the crude fingers of a hag. “The ice enchantment allows me to control the size of the needles. Anything from a javelin, to a needle too small to see; according to this.” She waved the pamphlet beside her head. “And the shadow enchantment allows me to throw a…” She paused to bring the paper over her eyes before lowering it again. “A phantom needle.” She smiled. “I can throw out the needle’s shadow and blind someone. How cool is that?” She turned to Jaimess.

“Do you have to talk like that?” Toril groaned. “It’s weird.”

“Yes.” She bluntly nodded, still beaming at Jaimess. “Your turn.”

“Ugh.” Jaimess groaned to his feet and stepped around his armor, displayed neatly on a paper mannequin he’d conjured in mere seconds; or rather, a paper version of my Doppelganger spell. On top of it was a polished set of armor made of the same greenish-black metal as Toril's, albeit with tan trim. Though, the set itself appeared more like a modern set of body armor rather than what it truly was. Set atop a chainmail tunic, a small and compact plate hung from overall-like straps atop the shoulders; covering the chests, abs, back, and nothing more with a shining piece of contoured armor. Much was the same for the arms and legs, which consisted of leather-bound, metal straps secured along the limbs like splints. Plated minimalist boots and a sort of kabuto helmet of the same color scheme completed the set. Without magic, at least.

“The armor, shield, and mace all have three, unprimed enchantments.” Jaimess meekly continued after making an orbit around the set. “I assume once they’ve been imbued with my paper magic, they’ll behave like Toril’s shield. Well.” He sighed. “The armor and shield will, at least.”

“And, you’ll be able to form any type of weapon or tool you want,” Toril added. “Why don’t you show us.”

“Because.” Jaimess sighed, turning to me. “It'll take time to prime them with my magic and test them properly. And I’m far more interested in what His Grace’s gear has in store."

“You and me both.” I huffed out a laugh through my nose as I spawned my doppelganger to have him arrange my gear while I recalled the information from my Eye. “The boots are magical, having been made from Vulcan Ox leather, they grant the means to wade through lava as if it was water, on top of being enchanted with the Shadow Step spell. The sleeves, on the other hand, were originally imbued with Shadow Pockets for the needles the set came with. I have no use for needles, however, so… I guess I'll put something else in there.” I shrugged. 'Maybe a pipe or something.'

“The only other enchantments are located within the mask.” I paused so that my umbral clone could turn the piece about for them all to see. It looked like a skeletal jaw with sharpened teeth, long and straight like some sort of devil. “Three of them. One places my mouth and nose into the Shadow Realm, allowing me to breathe if I otherwise couldn’t. And the other two allow me to exhale umbral and necrotic mana respectively. Other than that.” My clone gestured to the pants, sash, and monk-like half-robe. “The clothes are said to be made from a variety of silks, fibers, and leathers that give it both physical and magical resistances as well as self-mending properties.”

“Of course, of course.” Toril nodded slowly while squinting closely at the mask. “What do you mean, though?” He turned his gaze to me. “Exhale energy?”

“I can imagine using it for Poison Mimicry.” I amiably shrugged.

“Poison?” Jaimess blinked his shocked, confused gaze at me. “Mimicry?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I’ve sampled hundreds of poisons, venoms, and toxins. I'm immune to them. And my necromancy can mimic their effects.”

“Death magic makes you immune to poison," Toril muttered to himself. “That’s reassuring to hear.”

“Resistant, according to my Great-Grandfather.” I corrected. “Though he implied and I assume that it’s my mother’s blood and my necromancy that gives me immunity.

“Anyway.” I turned to pull my daggers from my Shadow pocket and lay them on the ground before me. As I saw before, the finely curved, double-edged blades were layered beautifully in the two-tone tiger-stripe pattern of wootz steel with a prominent ridge running down the center. With the enchanted hilt of Stone-Mammoth Ivory, the overall length was around 36 centimeters; making the pair of Jambiya the perfect accessories for my sash. “These are called…” I paused to reread the name. “Shade Splitters.”

‘How cringe.’ I groaned before monotonously continuing. “The shadow enchantment is called, Dimensional Splitter. In short, it can cut into the physical plane from the Plane of Shadows, and vice versa. The other enchantment is similar to my Leech Hand spell. It drains the vitality of whoever it cuts, enabling me to grow stronger with each kill.” A few moments of silence followed, curiously enough. Looking up, I saw only mortified gazes staring back at me. For the most part.

“You can do that?” Jonet asked with equal parts horror and astonishment.

“I can. It’s how I heal, after all.” I slowly nodded while retrieving my other weapon from the shade of a nearby tree.

“Damn.” Toril whistled low. “Now that is a nice spear.”

“Thank you.” I grinned, looking it over again. “Its name is…” I groaned and cringed again as I recalled the name. “The Shadowsteel Reaper.”

“Badass.” Toril grinned madly.

‘Ugh, goddammit.’ I sighed, then continued recalling the pamphlet. “Like all royal weapons, the Reaper's blade is made of pure adamantine; whatever that is.” I shrugged, half-knowing the answer. “The haft is made from stone-mammoth ivory and the wood of a divine tree; giving the weapon innate magical properties that yields a stone-like durability. Lastly, the collar is made from… Night Ave feathers powdered with gold dust. Giving it a higher sensitivity to my shadow mana and increased aerodynamics in flight; but more importantly, the collar hides a hidden pivoting mechanism. Lastly.” I quickly skimmed through the rest of the page. “There are five enchantments, one being unprimed: Shadow Link; Spectral Blade; Shade Extension, and Touch of Darkness.”

‘Jeez. Who names these things.’ I scoffed, taking the spear in hand to step away from the others.

I first looked around until I saw a shadow cast by a large tree before looking down at my own shadow and thrusting the spear into it. Seamlessly, the blade dipped into my shadow and emerged from the darkened ground a few meters away, where it grounded itself into the trunk with a loud knock. Retracting the spear through the linked shadows, I held the weapon overhead and began funneling death magic into the collar around the base of the blade. In turn, a sharp metallic click rang from the collar just as the spearhead snapped to a ninety-degree angle and the blade began filling, thickening as more from the necrotic energies until it finally resembled its namesake.

“Apparently.” I nodded to the curved, spectral blade scythe. “Anything impaled by this will have its soul ripped out. Allowing me to either absorb it or turn it into some type of specter. Either a poltergeist, wraith, or ghost.”

Ignoring their horrid expressions, I recalled the death mana; snapping the Reaper back into its spear configuration before I harshly swung downward, pouring shadow mana into the haft while doing so. And as it fell, the polearm elongated, removing any possibility of me controlling the now meters-long spear as it fell in front of me like a felled tree. After retracting the spear to its original length, I moved under the canopy; into the dense shroud of darkness permeating the woods to toss my beloved weapon aside like a fish released back into the water. As if it never left my hand, the spear arced and curved unnaturally through the air above me as I stood entirely still. Like it was grasped by my Umbral Hand, the spear swung and thrashed around over my head, cutting into the wind and trees with loud swooshes and knocks that sent a gentle breeze over the four of us.

“As for the unprimed enchantment,” I said, returning to my vassals. “I’m going to fill it with void magic, at some point.”

“It’s like my axe, but far better.” Toril gasped before quickly shaking his head and baring his palms. “Not that I’m complaining. You’re royalty, after all.”

“Yeah.” I sighed, looking down at my shadow. “And then there’s the matter of that armor.”

“His Imperial Highness seemed adamant that you take it,” Jonet commented.

“He didn’t seem adamant.” I corrected. “He was adamant. For what reason, I have no clue.”

“Well, why don’t you want it, Your Grace?” Toril asked.

“Look at me!” I raised my arms. “I’m small and frail. I’d hardly be able to move in a full set of armor. Besides.” My hands fell as my shoulders shrugged. “Plate armor isn’t my style.”

“Yeah.” Jaimess concurred. “It doesn’t really fit you. You remind me of a monk, to be honest.”

'That's fair.' I shrugged.

“Maybe His Imperial Majesty thinks you’ll grow into it?” Jonet cheekily added.

“Who knows?” I muttered. Tossing my belongings back into my shadow. ‘But I fully intend to find out.’