A notification ripped Eden from sleep, jolting his muscles and sending a shock through his bones.

Divine Quest (Yepu):

-Close the portal that allows my lands to be tarnished

-Slay the beasts that threaten my lands

-Score will be awarded for various tasks dealing with the forefront of enemies. The top 15 participants will receive rewards based on their placement.

Protect my lands and you will prosper. – Yepu

Eden waved off the notifications, falling back into the abyss. His skin began to spasm, his eyes rolled back. Zaaaaap. The pain radiated outwards from his heart, passing through muscles, and ending in a burning heat. Distantly, he heard cackling. Mad, unimpeded cackling. Fear took over, moving his broken body. Zaaaaap. He struggled to get away, clawing at the ground, hoping to find some sort of traction.

He was in the mud; he felt the warmth touch his soul. He instinctually found comfort. But, as the cackling ended, he opened his eyes. Instead of a dirt brown the mud was crimson red. Zaaaaap. The cackles restarted, he screamed. His body shook. This was it; he knew. Eden! Zaaaaap. He was falling, the ground was nearing. He-

“Eden!” His eyes opened, light blinding him. Alia stood over him, her hands on either side shaking. The King stood a few paces back, watching intently. A nightmare, Eden realized. He cursed his weakness. What sort of future King has nightmares?

“Are you alright?” It took Eden a moment to focus on his sister. The zaps were coming faster and faster.

“What,” The prince spit “Is that insufferable noise?”

Through the flap of the tent, blue light pulsed with the noise. It flickered and blinded, like a [Welder] connecting scraps of metal together. Tobyn was standing in the entrance, his posture told Eden he was watching whatever was making the light and sound.

“Max is doing… Something…” Alia said. Eden squinted harshly, annoyed.

He pushed his way up, ignoring his sister’s pleas and his groaning muscles. He wanted to see, the future of Salae was going to left to him after all. He needed to know if the Lost Lord was already too powerful for peaceful relations. Personally, Eden already suspected Max had ulterior motives. They both had been torn apart by the Blood [Queen], but only Eden still felt the pain. That alone was enough for the prince. Why would the [Queen] not hurt them equally?

Max sat on a crate. A small and diverse group of people stood around him. Some watched with interested eyes, others gave words of encouragement. A few, all of whom Eden recognized, gave advice. It was apparent that Max was working on a spell, one he didn’t quite know how to cast. But as the lightshow and zapping sound continued, he grew closer. Much closer.

Tobyn spoke, “Watch closely, Eden. We are in the presence of a future Tower Magus.”

Tower Magus was a special title given to those who reach a certain threshold of magical prowess and capability, at least for those who were apart of the Salarin-Salae Mage Guild. Other countries and other mage originations held different titles, but they were all near one another in authority. Tower Magus was three steps below [Grand Magus] in title and class, and four below [Magic Emperor].

Tobyn suspected it would take Max a few more years to reach the rank, but what he saw today solidified the young Lost Lord’s progression. It wasn’t a matter of if he would reach the rank, but rather when. Tobyn also saw this as an opportunity. Get the boy to come to Salae. His renown is only going to rise from the events at the Coalition. Whatever Max wanted; the King was prepared to adhere to it. Within reason.

“Tower Magus, truly? All I see is blue light and the sound of a fly buzzing.” Eden’s words caused his father to sigh.

Eden didn’t understand what all of the fuss was about. But, then again, he was asleep when Max ran to Vel speaking in hastened slurred words trying to articulate a spell idea. Since then, the survivors have been trickling out of the Pocket World at set intervals. The first few to exit stuck around mainly because they had nowhere else to go. But as Max got steadily closer and closer, they started adding their own opinions where the spell could be improved.

It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Getting firsthand knowledge and experience by some of the continents oldest and most powerful. Of course, some didn’t know the difference between mana and a spell rod, but their view of the world helped Max understand realities of his magic he had never thought of.

Such was the nature of space magic.

“This time try creating it from the blade first. Better yet, just don’t make a hilt.” A hunch-backed man said.

“But wouldn’t he cut himself?” A woman asked, she stood towards the back, a new arrival.

The hunched man waved her off, “If the spell goes as planned, it will not cut him.”

Max nodded along with the man’s words. He glanced to Emi; she was peacefully asleep. Good. She’d need rest for the both of them. He felt out, summoning the will power to continue through his tired state. Mana swirled through his mana system, through his chest, arms, and finalizing in his palms. He started with folding space just beyond his skin, stretching it out like a sword.

This time, he didn’t forcefully add a hilt, instead accepting the sleek format. The top of the fold fell in, creating a ridge and a tip. Blue light blinded all who looked too intently, a sharp hum filled the air. The affected area of space wanted to snap back, similar to the creation of a Pocket Dimension. However, the odd angles made it more impeding.

As Max held the spell work, he tried to bevel the edge. Instead of removing the extra folds, he pressed them together. He had learned in a prior attempt that removing folded space did not react well with the rest of the construct. With a crash of noise and a bloom of light, the spell fizzled out into nothingness. Max felt this avenue of idea could work, though. He just needed to fine tune it.

Others added their observations. The general consensus was that Max was on the right track.

“Have you tried forcing it? Some magics require dominance over their respective medium.” Someone said.

“No, no, no. Space wants to be fluid. You can’t just lock it into one place.” Someone else replied.

Max saw the irony in that statement, along with the parallels to the flow of water magic. It was funny to him just how similar magic is to one another. Ice is close to water while air is close to storms, heat to fire, the list goes on. Space might be similar in feel and concept to water, but in practice it was much more stubborn. In his prior spell works, Max had found working with space rather than forcefully was better approach.

But then again, that was for teleportation and Pocket Dimensions. Whose to say that same idea would work for a sword. Eh, doesn’t hurt to try. He thought while folding space like before. This time, however, he did so quick and with purpose. As if he was saying ‘obey.’ The blade tapered at the tip, rounding into a sharp edge. The extra force kept his mana in place just long enough for the long edge to bevel and sharpen.

The blade sprung to life, turning deep blue then cascading to white and back. Sparks were spewed off of the spell as if a saw was cutting through steal. Those in the immediate area took a large step back. They didn’t feel afraid, on the contrary, they’re experiences told them there was nothing to fear. The younger generations were hesitant, but they followed their elders’ leads.

As Max waved the blade around, a distinct rift was formed in space. It snapped close a moment later, but a trail always followed the odd light. He let it fade away, his mana gently leaving.

Congratulations you have learned the spell Omission Dagger (Epic):

Create a blade that rips through the fabric of space. The blade does not cut physical reality, only Astral.

35 Mana.

Congratulations spell Omission Dagger has been automatically evolved due to your related Class.

Astral Blade of Omission (Evolved Epic):

Create a blade that rips through the fabric of space. The blade does not cut physical reality, only Astral.

Those who respect the Astral will be more at peace around you.

30 Mana.

“Huh.” Max said, his eyes distant reading through the notification only he could see.

Around him, the crowd looked on with impatient eyes. A woman wearing all black leather armor spoke, “Well boy, is it what you wanted?”

“That and more.” Max said, summoning the blade once again. He raised it high in the air, slashing down in a long sweep. The blue-white light sung was it moved, a perfect vertical slash mark following in its wake. His target was a small crate used to hold arrows and other various [Archer] items. The blade passed through without a hitch, as if nothing were blocking its path. The valley of cut space reformed, the box remained perfectly fine.

“Huh.” Max said, echoing everyone else’s thoughts. Again, he raised the blade up, but instead of swiping down on a box or dummy target, he held his real arm out. The crowd held their breath as the blade passed seamlessly. The wake cleared and his armed remained intact.

“Huh.” By now, the crowd was questioning Max’s sanity. Was he just tired or could he only say ‘huh’? Max ignored their looks, however. He set his sights on the massive halo portal summoning flame monsters. By now, there was only a few souls left in his Pocket World. Two more full mana recoveries and he should be in prime capacity.

“Vel,” Max said, “Wake me when everybody is out. Should be just under an hour or so.”

She nodded, “Alright.”

The streets of Lesterwood were silent and dark. Most households only had a candle lit in the windowsills, a nod to those who were fighting at the walls. While not unexpected, city wide curfews and silent nights were not something citizens were used to. Normally, the guard and Adventuring Guild can handle the monsters attacking the gates, but breeds and certain species warrant such actions.

In this case it wasn’t one migration of monster. It was all of them.

“Do you know where you are going?” Celenia’s whispers were like a screeching child at a funeral, loud and unsettling. The atmosphere of the streets left little to be imagined. Even the softest noise caused the girls to turn.

“No…” Clammy pushed forward. “I would like to think we are getting close, but in all honesty, I have no idea.”

“Great…”

A deep growl caught their attention, it came from an adjacent alley. The familiar sound of claws striking brick and stone caused chills to spring up their backs. A sick crunch was next, followed by the death chirps of an unknown monster. An ethereal white-blue wolf strutted out moments later, it paused and looked at the girls. A still squirming centipede hung from its maw, it flickered in and out as if its body was phasing through reality.

“Uhhh…” Celenia was used to the weirdness of Nava, but in this instance even she was confused.

Reep reacted quick and with deadly precision. An arrow formed in one hand, a bow in the other. The bolt of lightning lit up the dark street, blinding onlookers whose eyes had already adjusted. A moment passed before the sudden light source faded. The wolf stood unaffected and with its head tilted in confusion.

“WA- STOP!” From deeper down the alley, a man wearing animal skins yelled. He ran, waving his arms. A wolf skin atop of his head seemed to snarl at the ethereal wolf.

Reep lowered her bow, keeping her fingers tight with another arrow. She watched the man scorn the ghostly wolf, who just stood there tilting its head back and forth.

“Who are you?” Clammy asked.

“Beolen.” The man said pointing at himself, he pointed to the wolf, “Wolf.”

“Beolen and Wolf... You two are members of the Stalker team, right? Max described you once, kind of hard to forget.”

“Know Max?”

“He is our teammate.” Clammy stepped forward. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a magical device laying around, would you?”

“Hate Magic.”

“You hate magic? Great! We are looking to destroy the device. It would help Lesterwood and Max if it was destroyed…”

Beolen thought to himself. He was a simple man with simple ambitions. He wanted to go back to his home in the forest. He wanted to hunt, he wanted to stay away from magic. Wolf looked at him, feeling his pain and annoyance. Wolf was his friend. His pack.

“Wolf say air smell. Follow.”

The girls looked to each other. Reep was the most hesitant, but she followed Clammy’s lead and ventured forth following the man. He brought them to one of the main roads, then across town, then to the [Blacksmith] district. The air was significantly warmer here as the forges were still cooling. There was no snow, only watery slush and mud. A few shops were still open, the guard needed emergency weapons and armor to defend with.

Beolen continued forward, Wolf leading. They passed the forges to the refineries and warehouses. Suddenly Wolf leaped forward, crashing through a set of pallets. It struggled as if wrestling with an invisible target. A few moments later, the thrashing died, and Wolf stood triumphantly with a centipede in its teeth.

Beolen didn’t say anything, instead he grunted in a way Celenia considered praise. A few minutes later, they arrived at a decently sized warehouse. SID’S STORAGE, a sign read. They pushed through the large, wooden, sliding doors and entered the establishment proper.

[Thugs] and [Mercenaries] sat around, some played cards, others polished daggers. But, as the doors creaked open, they all turned towards the sound. But that wasn’t what grabbed the girl’s attention. In the center of the warehouse, a cylinder the size of a trashcan stood rotating mana. Occasional wisps of purple mana drifted out of the top, the unmistakable color of space magic.

Reep ignored the potential enemies and fired an overloaded arrow. A white sheen deflected the projectile, sending the arrow to a far-off corner. The [Thugs] reacted. They gathered their clubs, daggers, and oversized swords, rushing the newcomers. Arrows ripped holes through the chests of the closest two.

Human, [Brutish Thug]

Level 17

Clammy, who came without weapon and in a weakened state, collapsed shelves giving the girls and Beolen cover. As Reep continued to fire off arrows, some missing others landing, Celenia pushed mana out of her feet and hands. Soon, the ground split open, roots budding with leaves and flowers whipped around like a hose without a handler.

They swung in large and quick patterns, breaking crates, or bending shelves. Celenia’s grasp over offensive magic was improving, but her manipulation level was lacking. So, she did what she could, attacking everything rather than specific targets. Paired with Reep’s arrows, the weaker of the hired muscle fell within moments. The stronger had ways of protecting themselves.

Wolf jumped from the shadows, pouncing on a fleeing target. The vines passed through its body seamlessly, landing on the [Thug]. Bones were broken. As if passing a threshold of moral, the remining enemies threw up their hands in surrender. Clinks of metal hitting stone echoed through the warehouse as they tossed away their weapons.

“WE SURRENDER!”

Reep looked to the others, a silent agreement formed.

“One by one, step forward, you will not be harmed!” Reep shouted.

The first was a thin man. He wore cheap leather padded armor and walked with a limp. A root passed over head, it was draped in slim vines. Focusing intently on the man’s hands, Celenia wrapped them together. The next man approached. He wore similar armor but was missing multiple fingers. A third didn’t have full range of motion in his knees, a fourth had a small popping sound when she craned her back.

It took a few minutes, but soon seven [Thugs] or [Mercenaries] were tied up. Each sported a crippling injury, but the girls would deal with them later. Instead, they focused on the magical device in the center of the room. It had been knocked aside by a root but was still perfectly fine.

Reep examined the space-lock. Her spell had been deflected, which was surprising to her. Normally, shields that could defect attacks like hers were only linked to mages. Shielding items existed, but they all had a critical defect. They only protected up to a certain limit. Anything over would cause the item to splinter and be rendered useless.

Must be a well-made shield… She thought as she overloaded another arrow. In moments her new arrow was sparking with power. Electricity arced off the tip, jumping to nearby metal shelves. The area became unsafe as Reep continued to push her limits.

She let the arrow go when she felt the slightest bit wobbly. It flew with a distinct pop when it reached its maximum speed. The white shimmer appeared over the magical item but cracked against the weight of the attack. The arrow caught on the cylinder, snapping it into the far wall. The wall cracked; dusts of sediment fell to the floor.

The purple hue faded, along with an odd vex in the air the girls only noticed due to its absences. Wolf sniffed the air multiple times, it turned to Beolen.

“Wolf say smell gone.” Beolen said, patting Wolf once on the head. The wolf pelt on his head snarled at the ethereal wolf.

“Can you three handle them?” Clammy asked, pointing to the prisoners. “I have to go.”

“Sure? Everything alright? You’re not feeling bad, are you?” Celenia asked quickly.

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m fine, I just have to meet with someone. Someone I kept waiting for a while.”

“Oh, okay. When are you going to be back?”

“Not sure, but everything should be over before then.”

Before Celenia could reply, Clammy disappeared just as Max does. She had accepted an invite through the system.

Cral, the God of War, has noticed you and would like to speak.

Accept: Y/N

Max had mentioned the white tunnels of long-distance teleportation. Clammy had to agree, the streaks of color were objects moving by too fast to identify. She idly wondered how long she would be in the spell. After a moment of thinking it through, she decided that she had no clue. But it wasn’t all bad. She took this time to collect herself and her thoughts.

So much had happened so quickly. Cral most likely wanted to talk about her system flagged spell, Dark Hole. But did she want to? It was a question that she didn’t know the answer too. Gravity magic was a secondary problem right now. If anything, talking about Divination magic would seem to be a better use of her time.

But neither of those were the reason she chose to accept the invitation right now.

The tunnel ended with a dull yellow light. Her eyes adjusted, and she found herself sitting in a throne. Before her a colosseum of sand and broken stone caged fighters within. Around the periphery, an audience of cheering fans screamed and booed with the fighters’ blows. Some threw food and other light-weight items, but a magical barrier block all.

“Ah, Bella… Or is it Clammy?”

Clammy turned to the voice. A middle-aged man sat beside her on a twin throne. He was tall, Human, and was covered in scars. His hair was black, along with a goatee, and he had two curved swords leaning against his leg. They were broken and chipped, obviously misused.

“Clammy, please. I take it you are Cral?”

“Indeed.” Cral eyed her for a moment before turning back to the battle. A man and a woman fought. One used a magical sword that flung dust and sand into the air, like a tornado with the caster at the center. The other threw daggers that glowed bright red before disappearing back into the attacker’s hand. “Who do you have your money on?”

Clammy turned her attention to the prized fight. She deliberated for a moment before answering, “The man with the sword.”

“Why?”

“He has better foot work. He’s not going to trip on the sand or rock.” As if to punctuate her sentence, the woman fell, tripping over a deeper pocket of sand. The man capitalized, stabbing down with his weapon, and burying his opponent in sand until the struggling stopped.

“Good eye.” Cral clapped his hands, a servant appeared a moment later with a jug of wine and two glasses. He poured the blood red liquid for both of them.

“I’m a little young, don’t you think?” Clammy asked.

Cral snorted, “Perhaps, more for me in that case.” He downed both glasses. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

“Weak.”

“That is expected. Especially after being in a Battle Trance for as long as you did. Staying in that state for multiple hours is serious even for [Masters]. But! You lived! The pain and weakness will subside. Have your friend cast that muscle healing spell again.”

Clammy nodded. The pair watched the next combatants walk out. This time, it was a group battle against a monster.

“You do know I’m a God, right?”

Clammy hesitated, “What?”

“Well, most of the time I call people here, they bow or drop to their knees…”

“Do… Do you want me to do that?”

“Not particularly…”

“Okay…”

Both were at a loss of what to say next. Clammy, on one hand, expected the literal God before her to lead the conversation. Cral, on the other hand, was stupefied at his summons’s behavior.

“But like, I’m the God of War! “The air turned thick as an aura as vibrant as silk stretched out, ”[Kings] fear my name for they know what the future holds… I could obliterate you where you stand mortal!”

Clammy slinked back, the hard texture of the throne providing little comfort, “Are you?”

Cral sighed, long and deep, he deflated, “No… I just… I knew there was a reason I liked you! Even some of my Divine siblings cower from me.” Just then, a breeze picked up, and a clap of thunder sounded in the distance. “Well, not all of my siblings…”

“I know the feeling of being estranged from family.” Clammy said, her gaze looking towards the sky.

“A pitiful feeling.” Cral slowly picked and ate a bundle of grapes. “But, enough of that! I call you here for a reason!”

“The spell?”

“Correct! But first, let me say this; I’ve had my eyes on you for some time now. Ever since your Trance established, I’ve kept up with your progression. As I do for every Trance user.” Cral scrunched his face, “It was difficult, I must say. Your teammate’s Divine Veil gave me troubles at the beginning as your proximity was obscured. But I am a fighter and found a way. I have prepared a booklet of information for your leisure. It should help you progress where your mentor cannot teach.”

The ’booklet’ appeared suddenly. It fell to the ground with a loud slap. It was huge, bound in leather and had a plethora of hand-written notes popping out of the pages. One particular page, close to Clammy, read: Battle Trances differ from person to person, but objectively the easiest portion to train is the lungs. For the Path of the Demolisher, it is recommended to progress to the legs and feet. For the Path of the Perceptive, it is recommended to progress to the mind.

The booklet disappeared before she could read more. Cral, however, gave an odd look, “That, was not the correct booklet. Forgive me, that was much to advanced, and dare I say inappropriate for me as a God to give to a mortal… This is the correct booklet.”

A much smaller, and much neater booklet appeared. This one took the form of a stack of papers bound by thread. It was handwritten, but with neat and tidy scrawl. The title read: Dancing in Battle; A Guide to Understanding Battle Trances.

“Read through that when you get a chance. Things should be clearer. At least, I hope so.”

Clammy dipped her head, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We have to discuss that little spell you made.”

“Alright. I take it I cannot use it?”

Cral nodded, “Correct. Simply put, it is much too powerful for the costs associated with it. In one month’s time, the appeal will start. I will be your defense sponsor, but you must provide and execute on your behalf. Sadly, there is not much for me to do, other than simply be by your side. Spell court is… Let’s just say… Uh… Not my forte. But the others respect me, at least some of them. Me just being there will help.”

“O-okay? What happens if I win?”

“You get the spell back. Of course, there will be changes to the mana cost, damage, and or even the name, but you shall have it. If you lose, well, the spell goes away. Forever. Or, until you become a God. You can have it back in that case.”

Clammy held an eye roll, “Who am I defending from?”

Cral looked away, an unknown emotion forming on his brow, “That is… Cazdis”

Clammy’s eyes widened, “Cazdis? As in the Goddess of the Eldritch? That Cazdis?”

“Correct.” Cral cringed, “Since the spell was cast against her ‘property’, she stands as the main prosecutor. Trust me, we all fought for her not to be a part of the appeal. But, in the end, she is still one of us.”

“Great.” Clammy pouted. She had just assisted in killing one of her children.

“It’s not all bad, I’ll be there and most of my siblings dislike her more than me!”

“Wait. How many of your siblings are going to be there?”

“Well, the ones who flagged your spell.”

“Even the non-named ones?” She asked, referring to the ‘And others not wishing to be named’ portion of the flag notification.

“Correct.”

“And how many is that?”

“Twenty-three.”

Clammy paled.

“It’s not all bad. Most will be veiled; you won’t even notice them being there.” Cral tried.

“Right sure, I won’t notice the twenty-three Gods watching my every movement.”

“Is that worse than the main prosecutor being the mother of a being you just killed?” Cral said with a sarcastic smirk.

“No… I guess not…”

“Clammy, look. There is nothing for you to fear from this appeal. Contrary to popular belief, Gods cannot just single someone out and kill them. We have rules, even Cazdis has to bend to.”

“But she can sick an Eldritch on me, right?”

“Correct, but you shall kill it. I’ve seen your power. This appeal is enough evidence of that.” Cral locked eyes with the young girl, “Read the booklet, grow in levels, accept new classes, become stronger than you are today. Never allow yourself to weaken. That is when you die. You’ve seen the future; you know better than most about death.”

Cral had stood sometime during his speech. He held out his arms, power radiated from him like a lighthouse during a foggy night. Behind, a backdrop of blood sport sounded. Cheers of hundreds sounded like rain against a metal roof. The cheers morphed, twisting into the clash of war. Hundreds died in seconds as war filled the air. Everything returned to normal a moment later.

Clammy smiled gently at the display, but Cral continued, “Who knows, maybe you will take my place here.”

This time, Clammy couldn’t help but laugh. Pain rocked through her stiff muscles, but she didn’t care. At some point Cral joined in, and the two laughed and laughed.

“Live well, Clammy of Lesterwood.” Mana began to form on Cral’s fingertips, but Clammy jumped to her feet.

“Wait! Wait! Are you sending me back?” Cral nodded at her question, “Can you send me to Salae instead?”

A wicked smile appeared on the God of War’s face, “A wise choice, young one.” The spell finished and Clammy found herself drifting through the white tunnel.

Cral sat back down, drinking the rest of the wine from the pitcher, “Path of the Perceptive… Who would have thought…? How long has it been…?”

The cheering crowd drowned out his question, pulling his attention back to the battle below. The smile never left his lips.