Black Magus

***

The Marulean God of Conquest.

***

The time was nigh, and though many of our eyes gazed upon the myth himself, mine were down in the courtyards of the Cast Iron Summit, gazing upon the children of my fallen sister. She and those like her bore the mark of the Marulean Guild Association, making them privy enough to acquire accommodations built for a king. From a glance, it seemed they were just winding down from duty talk and were moving on to more... trivial matters.

Totaling eight, the gathering was composed of mostly women. Yet if you asked them, they all were women- sisters, and warriors in the same breath. The two 'men' could be seen teetering on the precipice of the yard rather than lounging in their private spring with the rest of them. One shamefully shied away from the yard as he chain-smoked cigarettes while the other, a Ranked Mage, sat at the bar inside to pay almost no mind to the others while he incessantly flipped through the stack of papers before him. Until, of course, the most distinguished of them all spoke her mind.

She was a remarkably young Grandmaster Mage, Gysil Vilignin. Amazonian by birth. Though, even without being a descendant of my sister, she would tower over her subordinates from where she lounged in the hot springs all the same. Such was the greatness she possessed. But it was only the blood of my late sister that made her a true conqueror. Mightiest of all humans in both the past and the future. Such was the greatness of Amazonia, whom we've sworn to see returned to its rightful owners.

Through the God of Lore, they were made to remember.

Through the God of War, they retained their strength.

Through the God of Conquering, they would return on that fateful day.

“It is settled.”

Her cold tone alone demanded the attention of her subordinates until her words, however long or short they were, were spent. It was the respect each of them held for Grandmaster Vilignin that made them hold their eyes on their titan of a commander, wondering a myriad of different things while she eased her tensed frame a bit deeper into the springs. Then, she turned her burning gaze to the one adjacent to her. “Remember to show restraint with the commoners, Sol. The other guilds are whiny enough as is.”

“I’ll keep my eye on her, Madam.” Yolanda Tubbs stood to give a stone-faced salute, then turned to face the shameful Magi at the edge of the yard and yell. “You heard the Madame, Dutch!”

He in turn, meekly gave the Staff Sergeant a thumbs up before stepping off further into the cabin at a curiously fast pace. Such were the plights of the prude and meek.

Though she wouldn’t show it, Grandmaster Vilignin was amused by and even enjoyed the dynamic between her most trusted sergeants and their newest additions. Their two new Magi couldn’t have been further apart in terms of abilities. Dutch Wilders was seasoned in the field- enough to be noticed by the God of War. But he lacked leadership experience. Skye Valentine, on the other hand, was a natural-born leader- a conqueror through and through with a remarkable record compiled back at headquarters. That said, assessing the royal heirs of Deapou and Odissi would be his first time working outside the office. Despite the Magi trying to hide it, the unease was more than apparent in his visage. He was naturally quiet, for one. Two, he failed to notice the Grandmaster’s studious eye until the Staff Sergeant spoke up in her trademark, grainy voice.

“I’ve already sent the word to our troops, Madame. They know their orders and who they’re working with. They’re going over the dossiers now.”

“Good work, Lia.”

So saying, Gysil eased herself lower into the soothing waters and prepared to let her mind slip away for a few moments until duty once again called. Tuning out the chatter of her subordinates whilst resting was a skill she acquired as a young novice in the Association. Though that time was ages ago, she felt a sense of deja vu from her inability to mute those around her now.

“So, you were the one with the lucky draw.”

By sound alone, one would assume that Idonea Heydon had simply made an ambiguous and obvious comment. Having grown close to one another through countless battles, however, all but the two Magi’s heard the envious inquiry for what it was. More so, Grandmaster Vilignin foresaw what was coming next. So she quickly blurted out the first thought to resurface in her mind to steer the Master Mage’s words in a different direction.

“What are your opinions on the prospects?” She asked.

“I can see most of the commoners and nobles being recruited.” Yolanda distantly waved a hand. “Only the royals are going to the Tree, though. Perhaps some nobles too.” She waved again. “But highly unlikely.”

“The question is, will our tests be able to accurately gauge his prowess?”

Despite the ambiguity of her words, each of them understood exactly who Master Heydon was referring to. The one everyone in the guild- nay, in the entire Cast Iron Summit, was focused on. Perhaps it was due to that reason, many of them assumed, that no one could get eyes on him long enough to provide an answer. In turn, that made Grand Duke Amun of Odissi’s dossier the smallest of them all. Due to the privacy of the accommodations, the guild hadn’t even been able to learn what affinities he was granted. Adding to both the mystique surrounding him and rising the angst of those who had to wait to witness his prowess.

“Is he still up there, Madame?” Yolanda asked after a bit of silence.

“No.” Gysil quickly shook her head. “Princess Roheisa dragged him to the training grounds earlier. They should still be-”

Cutting her words short was a sudden spike in mana that shook her to her very core. As one, the gathering of eight sprang from the springs to scramble for their gear.

And as one, they stopped in place to crane their necks to the blue-white sky.

***

The Marulean God of War.

***

Hatred. Vengeance. Fury. War. These things in the eyes of Maruleans were like the smell of blood on a wolf's snout. Like the eyes of that same creature, witnessing another steal its prey. In the same way, a column of blackened smoke could be seen rising from the base of a dense alpine forest. If any were to see it, their minds would instinctively know that if they were to move closer to the source, one could hear the screams, cries, and vengeful shouts aimed at the heavens. Aimed at me, the God of such vile things. If they were to arrive, they would come across a modest hamlet that faced the largest trial a rising civilization would ever face- war. They would bear witness to a meager scattering of smoldering homes, burning farms, and the ruined beginnings of a quarry tucked against the mountain; bathed in the rain of suffrage.

And yet in the midst of it all stood a weary shepherd surrounded by his bleating herd. Like many of them and the streets around him, his clothes and body were tattered, bloody, and bruised. Yet, he stood tall against the second assault to face him this tenday.

“You know what they did to my family, Silas!” A particularly distraught mother spat a prayer to me in his face. “Are you going to do nothing about it like last time?”

With conviction, tears, and pain flooding his eyes, the one called Silas broke through the crowd to grasp her hands in his. “I swear to you, Shae, that monster will be brought to justice! Even if I have to make a deal with a devil. It will be so!”

“We should’ve never left the territories!” Another voice exclaimed another prayer. “Why did I ever choose to follow you!?!”

Though he wanted to remind him, everyone, that they had a choice in coming here just as he did. Silas turned to the man in question and rested a gentle hand atop his shoulder. “We knew the road ahead of us would be hard, Harold. We will persevere, rebuild, and create far better lives for ourselves than the ones we left behind.”

Throughout that exchange and the following minutes after, the captain of the town guard silently watched from behind his mayor. He said nothing, for it was not his place. His job was to protect. He and his troops had done that, if barely. Thus he should have been assisting in fire fighting and the long list of other priorities instead of staring at the Mayor like a lost child. Following him wherever he went. When Mayor Silas moved to douse fires, Rodin followed. When citizens were consoled, Rodin was there. And he didn’t speak nor take initiative until they were on their way to the relatively untouched town hall at the city center.

“They don’t call you Mayor. They spit in your face. Express dissent. And you just take it. Why?”

Silas took a moment to reflect. Not on his answer, but by the curiously neutral tone expressed by his guard. It was an exchange akin to a student addressing their teacher, Mayor Silas assumed, then compartmentalized the note before replying with his own question. “If I can't or won't shoulder their pain and anger, Rodin, who will?”

Sighing, he stopped to turn and gaze upon the little hamlet they’d created. At the people aimlessly wandering the streets, throwing hateful glares at both the Mayor and the woodline beyond.

‘How could Mayor Silas swear upon justice when his town guard- when I wasn’t even strong enough to eliminate the threat?’ Rodin silently wondered- prayed as he followed the Mayor’s gaze.

“Were you serious?” Rodin eventually asked. “Would you truly sell your soul to protect a place with no history?”

With a gentle smile, Mayor Silas turned to Rodin. Radiating a warmth and conviction in his eyes that negated the need for words; nevertheless, he went ahead and said what was on his mind. “I’ve already given my wealth, status, and now a bit of my body, Rodin. My soul is all I have left to give to these people.”

Rodin wanted to say many things, at that moment. Conversely, Mayor Silas wished to say nothing more.

In the following seconds, both of their wishes came true.

A burning blue light appeared from the north, bathing the land in its heavenly glow as it ascended to the clouds like a divine messenger. And one by one, the mourning wanderers in the streets turned their heads to the source, and so too did Rodin.

“What in the Seventeen Hells is that?”

Ignoring both Rodin’s question and the blinding curtain of light, Mayor Silas turned his gaze about the horrified, fearful gazes of his herd and had an epiphany.

'We are so different from one another. But... perhaps that's the reason you all chose to follow me. Where you are humbled or horrified by such a sight, I am only hopeful.'

***

The Marulean God of Anarchy.

***

I could see him like I could see so many others of his kind. A filthy teenager who knows well the anarchy of the realms. Such anarchy gave him a life of despair. It gave him a mind of hate. But most of all, it gave him strength in both spirit and body. And so, here he was. Standing off to the side of a particularly busy street within a particularly prosperous empire, clenching his bruised fists as he stared at the magnificent structure in the distance. Like the rest of his body, his face was matted with dirt and grime. His body was riddled with scars that were hardly contained by the tattered rags strewn over him. The marks of a slave made free by a magical affinity. An all too common sight in a city as vast as this.

Even in a posh and lavish district such as the one he found himself in, the citizenry and city guard paid no him mind. He was utterly invisible to the crowd, as vermin was, despite the blatant darkness swelling within him. Such was the madness of society. From an outsider's perspective- from my perspective, it was a play that’d been performed thousands of times over the course of this vast Empire's history.

From the child’s perspective, however, his situation was entirely unique. He was a slave. Now, he had power. And while he was aware of the privilege that came with that power, he refused to break bread with hands that once broke his body. Thus he had two opportunities. Both of those paths lie before him, in that very castle built upon a spire. The place of his miserable beginning. Regardless of what path he took, it would serve as the end of his miserable existence. And either his inexistence would continue, or his life would begin anew.

One path, he could pursue now. The other, a bit in the future.

Having decided upon his answer, he closed his eyes to take a deep breath before stepping down his chosen path. But as his lungs emptied and his eyes opened, the vengeful child felt his fists relax. His eyes grew wider. His legs grew weaker, eventually stopping him in place and forcing him to his knees. For a few seconds, he forgot to even breathe- he and countless others around him, all down on their knees, reaching for any nearby surface for support while the image of lightning-filled sky burned deep in their eyes.

Then came the sound of true power. Rolling out like a bell toiled for the rebels of this realm. A sign or signal that read: 'Not Yet.'

***

The Marulean Goddess of Nature.

***

The true nature of humanity was always a debate for both gods and humans and humans and the other denizens of Maru, the Dwarves, and the Halflings. Some were benevolent. Some, malevolent. Yet the answer was the same as nature itself- so clear it often went unseen. The nature of humanity was change itself. One had to know how terrible they were in order to know how great they had become. Similarly, one had to know how great they were to understand how terrible they had been. And so it was, my children were on the brink of change. And yet they didn't even know it.

But more than just them. All of Maru was on the brink of change. From the smallest grain of sand to the longest-reigning family in the realm.

Such was inevitable. No matter how they tried to avoid it.

“Yes, Mother.”

“And remember, you come from the finest lineage on the Mortal Plane. Make sure everyone gives you the respect you deserve. Even if you have to force them to.”

“I will, Mother.”

The mother in question was an esteemed woman of regal stature. A proper lady who held so much knowledge, wealth, and power that her robes, crown, and jewelry appeared to be meager trinkets in the face of her wisened features, studious stare, and demanding presence. All who saw her knew her as the Empress of the largest landmass on Maru. The ruler of the oldest Marulean Empire. But not so much as the finest lineage of humans to come after me.

In the face of her son, however, Empress Epeth was as normal as anyone else.

“Honestly, Winston.” She heaved. “Are you certain of becoming an adventurer? It's rough and dangerous out there. You’ll be without the many serving girls and slaves you have here at the very least.”

For the first time since she entered his room, Winston turned his eyes away from the window- away from his homeland, his birthright, to give his mother the gentlest smile he could muster. “I’m positive, Mother.” So saying, Winston paused to turn back to the window. First to continue committing as much as his homeland to memory. Second, to snicker at the dirty rat standing outside the grounds like he'd been doing all day.

With those images fresh in his mind, Winston faced his mother with a genuine smile and wrapped her in his embrace. “After all, I can just get new ones while I'm there.”

After pulling each other away, Winston saw pride and all the other positive emotions blooming in his mother’s eyes. Naturally, it was a sight that caused similar feelings to rise within him. So when he saw his mother’s face slowly shift from surprise, to disbelief, and to horror, Winston’s emotions were swept along a similar trend. Only, his were compounded by the gut-wrenching fear of the unknown.

A small cascade of dust falling on his shoulder brought his thoughts under control. Instinctively, Winston turned back to the window, only for time to seem to slow to a metal sloth’s pace.

A quarter through his turn and the unprotected windows began rattling, followed by the chalices, tables, and other pieces of furniture until the castle itself was shaking atop its foundation. As a result of either the shock or the sheer intensity of the blast, Winston became aware of the deafening roar only after it’d passed. When he vainly called out to his mother, only to hear a distant scream in his discombobulated mind resounding in his own voice.

Regal as ever, his mother, on the other hand, simply sneered at the light flickering behind her son, sucking her teeth at the showoffs up north. Those Devils of the Night who call themselves Cole. Thus with her mood now soured, she gave her recovering son the warmest smile she could muster as she turned to leave.

But then the windows shattered.

***

The Elven Goddess of Magic.

***

<>

The one they called Laele ignored her sister's inquiry in favor of continuing the inspection of a certain army from afar. So much was she like her mother. And yet so different was she from what her mother had become.

They had been marching for days. Drow, my kind, and the elves of our brother. Though our relationship wasn't as well off as those Marulean Gods, they were much better than the Gods of the other realms, either being too solitary, chaotic, or... abrasive, in nature. Though the one of us who affiliated with such a thing as chaos was the reason those called drow were down there, in the Darkworld of Maru.

Of course, I was the reason my elves were down there as well. Albeit for both dissimilar and similar reasons. Their tasks; however interpreted they were, was what brought them here. What came after, was our tasks. For my children, they knew the Champion to be my mirror. Nothing more. Or if anything, the one who would bring about a new era of prominence. Of Arcana. Of Champions.

The others... a bridge between civilization and nature, perhaps. The next stage in evolution. Ruler of the World Seas. Emperor of the skies. Things and titles that may have been right and wrong all the same. And so, they were here—our children. Marching through the Marulean Darkworld at paces humans wouldn't believe until they halted tens of thousands of kilometers beneath Ulai. Permanent fortifications were erected. Shifts of all types were established. Ones to patrol the tunnels. More to clear the corruptive radiation present in the realm. Yet more to scry upon the surface above. Yet more to pray. Or in our sister's case, to scheme.

Such was the case with Laele and the question she'd been asked. In regards to Telin and his champion, all elves were on the same page. That said, Laele couldn’t exactly blame her for being curious. Her naivety was a different story.

<> She jeered. <>

For the first time in perhaps hours, Yassra removed her sights from my children and set them upon her sister. Hiding her contempt behind a masterfully woven mask of submissive expression. Faux as it was, Laele saw right through it but chose to do nothing at that moment. For it would do no good to prove stereotypes true to their distant cousins. So instead, she turned her gaze to the klutzy regiment while Yassra continued. > She sneered. <>

<> Laele concurred with a curt nod. <>

<> Yassra said. <>

<> Laele added. <>

And so it was for all the elves waiting in the dark to witness the Champion's ascension in that realm, as it had been ordained long ago. But one thing I've seen from the shoulder of my champion was the ripples he sent out into the weave. These things, set in stone since the dawn of ages, would not turn out as they had been foretold. And yet, they would all the same.

Such a notion was punctuated by a sudden quake that reverberated all the way to that world of dark, bringing to mind the image of a great giant far above, striking the ground with a mountainous hammer.

And with a half-mocking sneer, Laele turned to her sister’s seemingly worried frame. <>

<> Yassra huffed. Yet Laele was rightfully convinced.

<>

***

The Marulean God of Lore.

***

At the edge of the clouds in a realm beyond my own, an inhumanly horned man with greenish-red skin stood on the precipice of a terrace. Even as a suited human approached from his rear, the towering figure remained statuesquely still as his gaze held north.

“To see you outside during a graduation.” The woman chortled in disbelief. “It’s unlike you, Headmaster.”

With his eyes still locked to the north, the ancient Headmaster pointed a clawed finger ahead. To a cascade of blue light flickering through the fog that persisted beyond the shores of their vast and yet tiny peninsula. Like a star blinking in the ever-present night, it sent a message to even here, reminding him of his second beginning. “Even those most obscure things, ordained in the ancient past, must be made bear come the fated time.” He murmured.

After searching for a full second, the woman's silver eyes widened to the brims of possibility. “Indeed.” She gasped in awed disbelief. “But, are those 'things' good or bad? That’s the question, Sir.”

“Any change that is good for one is troublesome for another.” The headmaster sagely answered.

To which Mal only shrugged “At any rate, this new batch of students should prove to be quite interesting. From what we’ve seen so far, they’re the most diverse class yet. We've even got a Djinni. After hearing from the Necro King and seeing that.” She nodded to the fading lights beyond. “I’d say the Maruleans will be the center of attention this year.”

“The Necro King?” The headmaster slowly turned to his assistant.

“You haven’t heard?” She softly recoiled. “He all but guaranteed his great-grandson would be in attendance this year.”

“Ah.” The headmaster sagely nodded to himself. "So, the Nox has finally returned to this here Tree?”

“Nox?” The silver-haired woman shook her head in bemusement. “No, Sir. The heir to the Cole House of Odissi.”

‘Oh, how times change.’ The headmaster silently wallowed. ‘How the young are raised ignorant, leaving tales of legends lost to time.’ He let out a great sigh that seemed to cause similar groans in the floor beneath him. And he muttered. “How sad.”

To which Mal only shrugged. “Very, Sir. I’ll see you inside.”

"Yes." He nodded, thinking back to a time long past while the echoes of one with the same title as he played back in his mind. 'Void and Death. Death, dark, and dark; Void, beckons the end.'