Black Magus

"Jeez! Fuck!" I gasped as I turned back to an undead minotaur barreling through a tree as if it were a rotten stick.

The semi-umbral beast continued for two more thunderous paces before sliding to an abrupt halt to stand ominously still for a long moment. Only to jerk its fist over its shoulder towards the west. Towards the Tower, hundreds of kilometers away.

While I then took a moment to catch my breath, the minotaur simply stepped into the shade of a nearby tree and disappeared. As did the countless goblins, orcs, trolls, and other unearthly creatures that'd been stampeding behind it.

With a sigh, I assumed my Wraith Form to take flight. And immediately, my mind began recounting everything that'd transpired since we left the Tower's dungeon for the first time some four years ago.

The days passed much as they had before. And yet, they were completely different. My vassals awoke with the sun and went about their studies as usual. And after, they'd proceed with training the students. Meanwhile, I spent my days in the most remote reaches of the mainland. Tirelessly warring against the Necro Army. For hours upon hours, I battled, ran, and rested to eat and regain strength, only to lather, rinse, and repeat such processes for the entirety of the day and well into the night. Rarely would Grandpa Lich fight me after sundown. Yet he would always appear after midnight for some course or class revolving around necromancy.

It was like a massive game of chess, our war. The first loss came from the very minotaur that was just chasing me, and it happened in the opening seconds of the war. A hunchbacked, club-bearing, ridiculously strong, and agile creature appeared on the front lines of the umbral army and impatiently lunged forth to literally punch me through the gut.

It was at that moment, that I realized the true extent of our training.

This was a real war.

The gaping hole in my belly had been sealed at once by my one and only Aegis Soul, forcing me to switch between my armor and my garbs until I managed to get away. However, even with a soul powering the armor, my attacks did next to no physical damage to anything stronger than a hobgoblin. Though, my weapons and magic were a much different story.

Undead were of course, immune to necrotic spells. Nevertheless, my blades were able to slice through their semi-umbral flesh with ease. Thus I spent hours upon hours hacking off appendages, impaling creatures, taking off heads, and generally stacking body after undead body without relenting. In turn, each mangled, crippled, or half-broken undead would simply stop in place and sink into a pool of shadow at their feet. Signaling their death.

Such a routine continued until my Burning Soul had been used up, forcing me to resort to hit-and-run tactics or guerrilla warfare. Regardless, they kept coming. They kept chasing. They kept engaging. Relentlessly. Forcing me to use up more and more energy until I had to run more than I did hit. Up until the time my Grandfather decided to end the exercise.

I saw him the moment his balcony came into focus. His massive frame, standing on the handrail, his bear-sized fists resting on his hips while he proudly observed my approach. He turned to me, grinning wide when I came to a landing. I was congratulated for my efforts and sent off to retire for the night with a firm pat on the back.

More or less the same schedule met me the following week, or tenday, as they were called. I'd take classes, train, or check on the tinkerers until the time for Toril's training came around. Then, I'd spectate and supervise until sunset prompted the start of combat training with Grandpa Lich, followed by lessons in our sorcery until dawn. By the weekend, I'd be back in the Tower's dungeon to steal more souls. Followed by 48 hours of warring against the Necro Army.

Much the same continued every week and every month thereafter until the beginning of a new year came. By then, Toril declared the students were ready to begin learning Elemental Fusion. And it was at that time that my vassals and I received changes to our blocks of instruction. For starters, each of us received both traditional and flying mounts; with one of mine being permanent and all of theirs being temporary. We spent the entirety of that year learning how to ride and fight atop them. Additionally, we either continued or started learning how to perform with voice and instruments. On top of that, Toril began accompanying Grandpa Lich in his office while I was warring against his Necro Army. Reportedly to point out and explain the movements of his units and my reactions to them. Jaimess, on the other hand, began taking the alchemy classes he so desperately wanted to take in the form of an apprenticeship with Urda. And so too did he start shadowing several officials and politicians working in other areas of the Tower. Meanwhile, Jonet started taking her acting to a higher level during the day and spent her nights working alongside the spies and undead patrol forces working in odd places in the Empire during the night.

As for the tinkerers, I extended their deadline to the second week of the year; something I decided to do only this once, as our schedule changes were rather abrupt. At the end of that week, though, I had them put their wares on anonymous display to be reviewed, before booting out the six, lowest-scoring competitors. Their second set of bills consisted of a pocket watch and a formal set of clothes with jewelry, both in any style they prefer; on top of a steam engine and a self-powered vehicle of any type. A natural progression from the grandfather clocks, casual wear, and machining tools they've been making thus far. Additionally, I gave them instructions to make a jet-powered board that I designed, with a nozzle that could be powered with fire, air, or water manipulation. Something that became quite a popular item in the entirety of the Tower's economy once all the different models were up for grabs at the end of that year.

The third year started with the dozen or so remaining tinkerers being told to make a wristwatch, a crown, a complete set of any type of armor, and a weapon. Alongside two more items: Any type of musical instrument they preferred, and a piece of infrastructure. Be it a road, house, or bridge. To that end, Grandpa Lich was kind enough to loan some skeletal workers to allow the tinkerers to take on the role of a foreman or project lead. More importantly, however, that year marked the end of my necromantic lessons and marked the start of a yearlong war against the Necro Army with Toril; and later, the other two, by my side.

Eight days a week, we'd play a sort of chess game against the undead legions. Wherein we'd battle a platoon or company of the undead forces and take their territory if we won. Then, we'd fortify it and use it as a forward operating base, observation post, staging ground, or some other aid for our mock expansion across the Empire. Throughout that entire time, the students continued to train in the arts Toril taught them. After a year and a half of continuing their lessons in Elemental Fusion, they went on to master the very flight skills my vassals spent the last few years developing. Once my vassals joined my campaigns, though, the students were more or less allowed to train in whatever they felt themselves lacking during their after-school lessons. Most of them trained on their own or in groups. However, some of them took it upon themselves to begin training the students in the grades below theirs. An admirable endeavor, in my opinion.

Regardless of what they chose to do after classes though, come the weekends, the entire class of students was placed under my command to receive the same harsh training I'd been subjected to for the last three years. As per my request. The result was 556 soon-to-be graduates who were more or less just as self-reliant, nearly as well-trained, and just as experienced as my vassals. Which in turn, equated to at least five companies to take command of, in just a few years' time. Assuming they all sought me out in the future. Even if they didn't, though, that was five companies worth of individuals who would guide this land to greater prosperity.

Time well spent, if I do say so myself.

---

30th of Luxortia, 1489. (13th month.)

---

"So, we're really doing this?"

Toril and I simultaneously turned toward the source of the voice. Toward Jaimess, standing next to a branch with a bowl in hand. Tilted slightly so as to allow the small flock of paper birds to dip their beaks into the red paste. It was the last step in a process that left the otherwise dull origami creatures vibrantly colored and filled with crushed stone, powers, and other materials.

"Why wouldn't we?" Toril spat before I could say anything. "It's the last run."

Jaimess' arm remained outstretched as he turned to Toril, and spat back. "Exactly. His Imperial Majesty surely anticipates us attacking the big one. If you haven't noticed, there's only the four of us this time."

"Four is enough." I quickly quipped, silencing the both of them. "Besides, we have no choice. The timer on our little game is running out. And, I'm sure my Great-Grandfather will be the one to move first."

As if to prove my point, a sudden rift in the snow arced from the woodline to trace around our position and rise into a wave of curved, slanted ice. Signaling the arrival of Jonet, riding atop the wave like a speed skater.

"He's coming." She panted, sliding to a halt. Prompting Toril to immediately turn to me.

"Do you have a plan?"

"I need you to immobilize him and cover our movements on the ground while you use your birds to distract him." I pointed to Jonet and Jaimess respectively before turning to Toril to hand him a slingshot and a palm-sized, hollow stone. "While he's occupied, I need you to pick up as much speed as you can and shoot this at his chest. I'll take care of the rest."

Toril spent a moment of silence by thumbing the pinhole of his ammo before grunting softly, looking up at me, and softly shaking his head. "Won't work." He grunted, yet took the weapon anyway. "He'll swat me like a fly."

"Fire before he does. If he tries to swat me, I'll void it." I shook my head back and pointed at the abyss-black enchantment on the blade of my spear. "All you have to do is your part."

There was a slight wince in his left eye as I said those last words. A wince that exclaimed his disgruntlement or disagreement with my orders; nevertheless, he silently nodded and stood aside to wait while I summoned the Umbral Oculus.

Once the multi-eyed sphere was twitching away in the night sky, I placed a bit of darkness in the pebble to squeeze through the pinhole in Toril's ammo. Wherein I marveled at the cosmic scale of the void-inspired Umbral Egg while I waited.

After investing a little time for refinement after its creation and giving it a name, the Umbral Oculus wound up becoming a type of shadow... creature capable of reverse-scrying; wherein anything caught in its line of sight would be transmitted and displayed to any shadow in my line of sight like a media screen. The limiting factor, of course, was direct light; inside which, it could not exist. On the contrary, however, it retained the ability to force me to Shadow Step to any place it or I could see on my command. It was an invaluable reconnaissance spell that proved its worth when I finally defeated that minotaur, two years ago. Now, it was proving its worth yet again by giving me a real-time feed of the battlefield.

As I ordered, Jonet was skating towards the target, gathering as much snow and ice as she could in her wake while Jaimess constantly spawned bird after bird to race through his materials staged at our main base. Once as vibrant and loaded as the rest of them, they joined the flock chasing after the receding avalanche with wild abandon. Ten minutes or so later, the Oculus began to follow, leaving me and Toril in place amidst the sounds of fluttering paper. Waiting for the minute of might.

It didn't take long.

While the 'Queen' of our Empire-wide chess match was indeed my Grandpa Lich, he deemed himself a non-participant from the very start. Leaving only the 'King' in his place. A shadow undead storm giant.

Since I was first driven away from the Tower at the start of the game, the giant spent his time placidly seated atop a large outcropping roughly thirty kilometers from the eastern edge of the Tower's Dead Zone. Now, he was ducking under the clouds just to track Jonet racing over the ground, guiding an avalanche that encompassed the entire clearing behind her as she willed it to condense into a massive shard churning behind her like a freight train. Meanwhile, swarm after swarm of vibrant, origami birds gathered in the sky above her, undoubtedly blocking the giant's view of Jonet and shifting its gaze to the flocks of paper diving towards its arms, knees, and neck; wherein they mimicked their natural counterparts and dive bombed their aggressor in ways that struck their flint-covered beaks, igniting the alchemical cocktail of kindling, explosives, and gunpowder their master had been feeding them.

From the Umbral Oculus' vantage point, the night turned to day in a veritable instant, nearly forcing the spell to end as a series of fireballs combusted in a line up the giant's side. The force was enough to reel it back on a single leg; a leg Jonet then skated by with her ice train in tow and on an intercept course to shear the giant's knee clean off the leg.

Jonet disappeared into the woodline, covered by a roar greater than any thunderstorm I'd ever heard. A much louder one came when the giant fell- toppled over the massive shard and ectoplasmic goo below him until Jonet permeated the night with a similar scream. Only her scream held the power of ice. And it shattered the structure an all-encompassing cloud of mist, reformed and bonded against the remnants of the giant leg.

"Now, Toril!"

Through the multi-paneled screen inside my little stone, I saw Toril nod resolutely before grasping the slingshot in hand and charging himself with lightning mana. Then, he disappeared. Only sparks were left in his wake as Toril raced towards the 'King' at the literal speed of lightning. Forcing the Umbral Oculus to twitch ever faster between eyes to keep up with his movements.

Within moments, we crossed a distance that took Jonet and Jaimess' birds upwards of twenty minutes to traverse. A second later and we were within the cloud of mist. Toril grasped the slingshot in hand and canceled his spell, allowing his momentum to carry his now-materialized body while he fired. And from within, I emerged, shrouded in my Void Skin and rocketing over the foot of a colossal old man with ice-gray skin and a chalky, white beard. His head began swaying madly the moment he laid eyes on me. Toppling the great, blackwood trees in the Dead Zone like someone breaking through high brush as he scrambled.

With a deafening roar, his body spasmed and his hand found itself behind me. As Toril said, the giant was fast enough to even swat him. But that meant little to the Void.

I took a small glance at the me-sized hole in the center of his palm before I held out my hands behind me, allowing darkness to trail in my wake. From the umbral stream came the Shadowsteel Reaper, and from within, came the activation of my Burning Souls; bringing about the chorus of maddening whispers and scratches at the back of my mind. Clenching my teeth against the strain, I let the haft extend more and more into the river of shadows flowing in my wake until eventually, I felt the Touch of Darkness take hold of the weapon, permitting me to channel a bit of void into the hidden mechanism. Once bent into the shape of its namesake, it took on the same form as the Spectral Blade, only composed of that unbridled entropic energy.

As I reeled back, the energy arced forward, forming a point of nothingness that remained beside me, even as the haft reached the apex of its ascent. As I began to swing, the whispers grew ever louder. The rage burned ever brighter, and together, they conjured the maddening movie that's been plaguing my dreams since my birth in this universe and sent that madness arcing through the center of the giant's frame.

The Void Dragon's Claw bisected the undead giant with no resistance, bisecting both him and the land beneath him. The barren permafrost; exposed to fresh air for the first time in ages from Jonet's assault, was immediately overpressured by the pool of magma bursting forth from leagues below, sending untold quantities of frigid stone and scalding water to flow into the ravine in an attempt to equalize the temperature. Then... I was gone.

Momentum saw fit to carry me far. And I let it. I sent my spear into my shadow and flipped in midair to face retrograde before canceling every spell except the Burning Souls. With that and my armor protecting my body, I simply stared and waited for the approaching ground to meet me. A few felled trees and a rolling series of thunderous booms later, I'd slid to a halt near the western end of the Dead Zone. Wherein I immediately gazed up at the small protrusion of Grandpa Lich's balcony, far, far above. Only to hear a deep, bear-like growl radiate from behind me.

I turned toward it once. My arms spread to my sides and my face cramped upwards into a grin that I was sure would be permanent if it stayed any longer. Still, though, I gave respect where respect was due and bowed. Grinning and all. "We win."