An excerpt from four years prior…

My name is Eithne Cherish, one of the many half⎯bloods that reside in the Sel Forest. Eithne comes from my dryad mother, for the color of the petals she loved. Cherish comes from my human mother’s name so that she will be remembered. I am a half-blood that has found her place among companions that I find dear to me. They say that those with dryad blood like me are standoffish beings that feel disconnected from the real world. But in reality, it’s because my companions are a bunch of slobs!

“Lugh, you bastard, where did you hide my flask of tapanine?” Eithne growled as she kicked at her companion’s sleeping form. Dryads were known to be early risers, waking up at first sight of the morning light. Even Lugh, who was known to wake up early to practice his swordsmanship, was no match for her.

“Haw vould I sknow?” Half⎯drooling with his mouth wide open, Lugh mumbled a reply before turning away in the other direction. Eithne gave him an ill-disguised look of disgust at his horrible sleeping posture and disheveled appearance. After a brief moment, Eithne smiled and whispered a magical verse before leaving the tent.

“Good morning, Eithne.” A voice called out to her as she roamed the sleeping camp. “Still training at the break of dawn, are we?” Eithne greeted the young man reading a book. Nuatha was a former noble, so his mannerisms were a bit more graceful and pleasing in Eithne’s eyes.

“I’m just a mere strategist that dabbles in a bit in magic.” Nuatha hands lightly caressed the book he was examining before closing it abruptly. “If I don’t train, how else would I catch up to the rest of you?”

Eithne frowned upon hearing his words. Yes, it was true that Nuatha was the weakest out of all of them, but his expertise in other areas was what made him an extremely valuable individual.

“Look here, Nuatha. While I respect that you want to be better, you can’t forget that you are the reason we have managed to scrape and survive every job we have taken.” The half⎯dryad grumbled and plopped herself down right in front of him.

“What do you think will happen if Lugh or I were the ones to speak to clients about jobs?” she snorted “Lugh can’t say no as long as there’s some sort of sob story, and there’s plenty of discrimination against half-bloods.”

“What I’m trying to say is... “Eithne wasn’t very good at articulating words, so she grudgingly took a leaf out of Lugh’s book of quotes. “Is that you have a place and purpose here, and we all rely on you for things only you can do.”

“Thanks, Eithne.” Nuatha smiled, and she smiled back, thinking that she had got through to him. What she did not notice was that as she was speaking, his hands that were gripping the spine of his book had tightened. Perhaps it was from frustration, or perhaps it was from helplessness, but nobody noticed the gesture.

“In any case, this is the Sel Forest, and we’re close to my hometown. Train as you like, but make sure to spend time resting and recuperating, okay?” Eithne stared at Nuatha, not looking away until he said ‘yes’.

“Don’t worry. I plan to go around and do some sightseeing. You don’t see this much nature in the cities and hamlets.” Nuatha nodded wryly. Before she could reply, there was a loud bellow as Eithne’s prank went off.

“Eithne, you little scoundrel. Where are you?!” Nuatha spotted Lugh lumbering around, looking as if he had suddenly been doused in a large quantity of water, eyes seething with indignation.

“I better be off.” Eithne left without looking back at Nuatha. For the next few minutes, Nuatha looked on with a bemused look as his two favorite companions chased each other around like children before he reopened his book.

The tome was aged and weathered, and Nuatha had spent a good deal acquiring it without the knowledge of his peers. They had found it in a crumbling dungeon, but this was one item that Nuatha had decided not to sell.

“Aotapia…” Nuatha murmured the name that he had translated from the tome’s depths.

“Malcath… are you sure about this?” As a sign of respect, Cairo clinked his glass with Malcath’s before downing it in one go. Even while chugging the foul liquid ⎯ reminiscent of horseradish and the lowest possible quality of peppermint ⎯ Cairo’s eyes were fixated on the one-armed man in front of him, awaiting a response.

“You know I have been waiting for this for a very, very long time.” Cairo’s tone was stalwart and unfaltering as he slowly and methodically sharpened his sword. Normally this would be considered ill-mannered, but the two of them have known each other for a long time.

“The Hestel family is a plague and must pay for their crimes.”

“I’m so sorry about what happened to your family, but Malcath…” Cairo’s voice hesitated for a moment before continuing. “You don’t have an escape plan, do you?”

Sccchhhhhht, Sccchhhhhht. Malcath said nothing, instead applying another layer of oil to his blade. The sound of metal against grindstone was the only sound that answered.

“You’re not planning to get out of this alive.” Sudden realization hit Cairo, and he pointed out Malcath’s intentions. His friend’s deadpan expression, devoid of any trace of movement, was all he needed to confirm Malcath’s intentions.

“I’ve already set my affairs in order,” Malcath said quietly after a few minutes. “What’s left of my savings from the arena fights will be split. Half will be given to you, so you may find out about your ancestry, and the other half I have sent home to aid the war effort.”

“Wherever you get like that, it’s pointless trying to convince you.” Cairo sighed and sunk back into his chair. He ruefully looked at his empty cup, marveling how unfortunate he was that his only friend had a death wish.

Memories poured out as Malcath slowly refilled his cup, the droplets of water trickling down, reminding him of the sweat and blood he had left in the sandy arenas of the Red Slate Republic. He had been a slave-gladiator as far as he could remember thanks to the effects of the Venosphora drug. However, Malcath was different. He was never a slave but had joined the ranks of the gladiators willingly. Cairo didn’t have a good impression of him until they had crossed blades in the arena, and Malcath had stealthily given him the victory when he was clearly the superior fighter.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Cairo offered.

“I want you to leave this blasted Republic,” Malcath replied. “I have no doubt that after the deed is done, an investigation will take place that would implicate you. You’re a good person, Cairo, but this land has a habit of turning men into beasts. Look at the rest of our comrades that had fallen before us.”

“I had already made plans to travel to the Dew Plains. But I won’t leave until I watch your battle.” Cairo nodded. “One day, I will travel to your homeland and jostle blades with your student.”

“By the time you have found her, I have no doubt she will be many times my level. You won’t beat her.” A smirk emerged from Malcath’s face. “She has the makings of a genius that appears only once every century.”

A scene from eight years prior.

“Teacher, have you been well?” Lugh reached out and patted the gravestone in front of him. Today was the day his teacher had passed away, and as the one who taught him, he had come to give her his respects.

It was traditional for those that reside in Lorresta to take on a student of the opposite gender when they retired. Every year, there would be a mass pilgrimage as the younger generation of Lorresta would return home to visit their deceased mentor.

“You old bat, do you know how far I have to travel here just to pour you some wine?” Lugh grumbled, but it was the type of complaining with warmth to it, like a mother complaining about a messy room but still cleaning it. Still, after days of travel, the moss-mottled tombstone was a familiar sight for Lugh.

Lugh brushed off the top of the tombstone, wiping away the fallen vegetation and remnants of nature that had accumulated over the past year. He frowned for a moment before kneeling by the side of the grave and rummaging around.

“Here they are, must have been knocked off by a stray animal.” Lugh picked up a strange pair of jeweled cups. At a glance, one was wrought from silver, and one was wrought from gold, but in reality the minerals they were made from were nothing valuable and just mere imitations. This pair of cups was connected by a metal chain, and it was the symbol of a student and pupil relationship.

The master would drink from the golden cup, while the pupil would drink from the silver. When the student would ‘graduate’, the symbolic pair of cups would be entrusted to be passed onto the next generation. However, he had not finished his journey of enlightenment nor had the chance to pick up a student.

“You know, teacher, there were so many things you never taught me.” Lugh pulled out a green-tinted bottle and started working at the cork. “Then again, I don’t blame you since it’s been nearly a century since you retired to Lorresta.”

“In case you aren’t aware on the other side, kissing a woman’s hand at the first meeting is no longer standard.” Lugh grimaced as he recalled some not⎯so⎯fond memories that resulted in him getting slapped. “I have a suspicion that you told me that on purpose so you would have a laugh on my yearly return, but you passed on too soon, teacher…”

A sense of melancholy struck Lugh, and he filled both of the cups sitting on the flat surface of the headstone. Taking the golden cup, he poured it over the grave before picking up his own silver cup and drinking the fiery liquid.

“I made a few friends, and one of them downs this nasty stuff as if it was water.” Lugh smiled and began slowly recounting some stories to the grave in front of him.

“They are good people.” Lugh chuckled. “There are many people just trying to live their lives. Perhaps when I retire to Lorresta, I shall join the Eternal Guardians, like you did, so that we may continue to live in uninteresting times.”

“Teacher, I hope that I have made you proud.” Lugh continued to pour and drink. “All that you have taught me, I have put to good use, and like the others before us, I seek to change this world for the better.”

“Sometimes, I wish that the realm of Lorresta would open to spread our culture and ways to others. I think it would be a path to making the world a safer place.” Lugh sighed. “Humanity is so deep fighting itself that sometimes, they forget there are other dangers out there.”

Lugh continued to talk, but before long, the noon had turned into dusk.

“I will see you again next year, teacher.” Lugh stood up and brushed off the gravestone one last time. “Please keep watching over me from where you are. This is my first year outside Lorresta, but I have learned much.”

There was a faint reluctance in Lugh’s motions as he made to leave.

“Be ever vigilant, as if the world is on the brink from a state of war.”

Such were the first words taught to new recruits of the Red Slate Republic’s standing army, and the last words spoken to officers about to graduate from one of the many military academies that spanned the Republic’s military tradition.

And such was the reason why within minutes of the League of Adventurers notifying the Red Slate Republic of growing numbers of undead appearing in nearby dungeons where they shouldn’t be, they had been on the alert.

It was not uncommon for one dungeon’s denizens to grow out of hand, but that only applied to the living. The undead within dungeons were borne from spirits of the dead unwilling to pass on, and thus taking residence in empty shells and husks. But it was no doubt a dreadful existence, as many of one’s senses change depending on the husk they inhabited.

Normally, when there are such reports of growing undead, it meant that a high-level monster, one that could move the dead, had appeared. This would warrant bounties placed by the League of Adventurers. If the bounty was not claimed and the monsters slain by adventurers, it would fall upon the country to send in their own army to cleanse the dungeon.

But the reports of growing undead were too many. It was not only a single dungeon, but tens and twenties, and there were even comments of high-level undead being sighted above ground after darkness had fallen.

And thus the Eye⎯Corps, the intelligence branch of the Red Slate Republic’s military, was moved into action. Through their methods, they had discovered that the slavers had been selling their products to the Necromancer Telsin.

However, it became apparent that they could not keep up with demand, and then they started to disappear. Slavers were the unscrupulous sort and there were all manners of internal strife, so it was not uncommon for them to turn up dead ⎯ whether killed by their competition or one of their own slaves.

There was no coincidences in life, and it did not take a genius to put the pieces together where exactly undead were coming from. The Necromancer was unfortunately one of the most difficult named Divine Beings to come into contact with; nobody except for a chosen few had seen the face beneath the mask, and they have long since perished.

In many ways, Telsin was treated as a haunted artifact of a bygone era. He would resurface every few years or so and then disappear, his intentions unknown to any but himself. Under the agreement of the Council, it was deemed that this matter should only be kept an eye on for now, unless the undead started to appear in broad daylight. That was the case… until a certain man that never attended the daily meetings showed up for the first time in a year.

Lord Dumeis had returned, and with an announcement that would thrust the Red Slate Republic into rapid turmoil.

At the forefront of Gareth’s Bulwark, where there was a temporary lull in the battle between the forces of the Holy Kingdom of Ecclisa and Aerolite Legions of Nenhym.

“By Ecclisa, I have not seen daylight in weeks.” One knight complained to his compatriot that was on the walls with him. When the fighting had first started, there was a flurry of activity, but there was still a crude order and a rhythm to things.

Bows up, pick a target depending on priority, release your shot in tandem with the others, and repeat. It was ceaseless, with the only important thing being how many arrows you can fire off at the Shadowless that did not fight back.

“First the Shadeless, and then those… monsters. What has the world come to?” The knight’s companion grumbled as he shot an eye across the battlefield in the distance where Nenhym’s Aerolite Archons hovered in the air.

Nenhym’s legion was one wrought from silver-gray stone. Like meteorites, they would launch themselves from her castle, crashing into the battlefield and wielding great glaives as if they were mere sticks. As if their strength was not enough, they would project a strange forcefield that seemed to distort space. Arrows that seemed like they would hit the Aerolite Archon’s stone-like visage would suddenly warp and distort before slipping through them as if they had no physical form. The only projectiles with effect where spells, but there was a dismal amount of mages at the Bulwark, having been sent on a mission further down south against another foe.

“When did the Holy Land of Ecclisa have such a powerful enemy?” Many times a knight had died, impaled on the end of their long glaives, so there was a detectable amount of resentment in the knight’s words. One of the Bulwark’s three walls was breached before several magic corps had arrived to defend against these new enemies.

“Even with the Sisters of Ecclisa here, we still haven’t managed to push them back.” His companion added. With the appearance of such powerful allies that could dispel the endless night, the defenders were encouraged only for a moment before being disheartened once more. The added reinforcements was only able to bring the battle to a deadlock, with neither forces gaining ground.

“And what are we going to do about that castle?” With the fighting being less brutal, the knights and defenders started to ask the questions that were on their minds at the start of this Shadowless War.

“When High Priestess Geisla shows up, I am sure she should be able to deal with it, with the full might of the Crosslith behind her⎯”

“Wait, who is that? Did we send any patrols out?” The sentry quickly interrupted his companion as he spotted something coming out of the darkness.

…

“I did not think it would be you that we would be running into.” Petra and Tivi, two of the Sisters that served the High Priestess, left the fort to meet the lone individual.

“I have come with demands from the one that resides in the castle above so we may put an end to this needless suffering.” Lin Merylis smiled at the two’s expressions.

‘On Those With Demonic Tendencies’

When the inhabitants of the world of Ishtov and Valru entered the world, their offspring with humans was not through love, but rather, a sort of pact which serves to benefit both sides.

In many ways, it was a form of worship ⎯ one would pledge a portion of their soul power to an entity, and in return, in your time of need, they will return all of that stowed⎯away strength.

Of course, that was the basis for a contract. Each clan and subrace of Ishtov and Valru would have sub-clauses in the contract, some for the better, and some for the worse. And there were some sub-clauses where a human would offer their body as a host.

Such was how many powerful families around the time had come to be. For the sake of their safety ⎯ their names would not be recorded in this tome. But for the price of the power, some of those families would commit heinous deeds.

Some would offer living sacrifices to their patron ⎯

Some would self-mutilated their bodies as a sign of respect ⎯

Some would cannibalize others in order to sate their patron’s thirst ⎯

It could be said in this era, it was a time where the darkest of human emotions flourished. However, this is not to say that the beings of Ishtov were inherently ‘evil’. They were mere beings that followed their baser instincts, and it was their nature to control and consume. One may even argue that their existence had merely bought out the true dark tendencies and natures that resided deep in the human consciousness.

But like all that walk the circle of time ⎯ everything falls. When the portals to the two worlds closed ⎯ for full details see the post⎯mortem analysis, ‘Shores of Other Worlds’ ⎯ the habitants of the two worlds were now stuck. Those that survived the aftermath hid away in the world, disappearing overnight from their bases and homes.

The humans that formed contracts with the otherworldly beings were left alone ⎯ having lost their connection to their patron, they were mostly harmless. The more dangerous ones were put on trial, and a majority were executed for their crimes against humanity. One notable example was Rennard the Ripper, a heinous murderer that offered his body as a conduit to a demonic being of madness.

Time passed in its eternal spiral, and the power of those from Ishtov ran thin ⎯ every so often within a bloodline, the powers of the original patron would manifest on its own, without any connection at all.

This phenomenon would go unexplained for centuries to come ⎯ until one managed to slip through to the world of Ishtov. However, they soon disappeared from the annals of history.

“Sorfilda, that boy came here, didn’t he?” Klaris sat atop a bunch of boxes, kicking her feet playfully as Sorfilda moved about, packaging up her shop. “Is it me or did he have a strange scent about him?”

“‘Course he does, it’s pretty common for those that sleep with dragons, especially when it is their first time.” Sorfilda grumbled as she flitted about. “You should know better than I do why he has that scent, no?”

“I haven’t heard of any others like us in the vicinity.” Klaris snorted and scowled. “And if you are suggesting I took a fancy to that child, then you must be losing your sanity, Sorfilda.”

“Huh?!” Klaris’ denial caused Sorfilda to stumble. “Are you telling me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Klaris snorted, and you can almost see flames coming out from her nose.

“Strange, very strange. I should have gotten a better look at that boy.” Sorfilda murmured. “There are so few ways that a human can gain the aura of dragons, and each and every one of them are not things that can be easily mentioned.”

“He’s an interesting one, isn’t he? Especially that teacher of his.” Klaris didnt seem to hear Sorfilda’s murmurs and continued on. “I didn’t think that he would even know about the elder ones and even demands to meet with them,”

At Klaris’s words, Sorfilda’s mind locked onto one possibility where a human could gain an aura that only other dragons could detect, and the very thought of it sent shivers down to her core.

He consumed a Heartstone? Even in all her years, Sorfilda did not hear such a thing happening. This knowledge was something that her grandmother had told her mother, who then passed it to Sorfilda.

“You must be careful around that boy. Airen. He’s not what he appears.” Sorfilda quickly grabbed Klaris by the shoulders and shook her. “In fact, I would get out of this city as soon as possible as well. This place will soon turn into a battlefield.”

“I know. Dumeis told us.” Klaris shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Sorfilda. I can manage myself. I am surprised that you, yourself, are leaving. What is a bit of war?”

“You don’t know, whelp. I have seen countries rise and fall, and I have seen enough to know when the decline begins.” Sorfilda huffed and returned back to work.

“Even if this so-called Republic survives what happens next, it’s only a matter of time.” Sorfilda grumbled. “If you have time to sit about, help me pack all this into the holding bags.”

Sel Forest⎯

Two humanoid creatures with fox-like characteristics, Hikara and Kage, rushed towards a small grove at the very end of the Sel Forest. Compared to the rest of the lively forest under their master, Isoll Dè Titania, this part of the forest was eerily quiet.

They had received a call from another one of their companions, a great ent that guarded what was considered the most dangerous part of the Sel Forest ⎯ the sunken grove where the sealed portal to Aotapia was.

“Have you alerted the mistress?” Kage shot a few words out between their rapid movements, leaping from branch to branch of great trees.

“She is sleeping and asked us not to disturb her. She is likely imparting a dream to Peygie.” Hikara’s robe-like garment was blown asunder by the wind, but she did not care to mind. It was a mere garment, and Divine Beings were more accustomed to being in their magical beast-like forms.

“To think that it would act up now, after a descendant was given to us⎯” Kage’s fangs were revealed as he grimaced wryly. He did not think it was a coincidence.

“If you have time to talk, then move faster.” Hikara’s form was hazy and flickered as she hastened her speed. Although she had merely heard of the stories of what dwelled on the other side, the older Divine Beasts serving Titania could recall those dark days. Even now, Hikara was sure many of them were also rushing in the direction of the portal to Aotapia, willing to lay their life down if it meant stopping the portal from opening.

Autopia ⎯ a forbidden realm of dark knowledge where you can gain everything you have desired, of course ⎯ given you can pay the price.

That was what was written down in the few books of mankind, pieced together from the memoirs of those that survived ⎯ implied from the fate of those that did not return.

However, for ancient magical beasts and otherworldly entities, they were the ones that gave it the name Aotapia. The original meaning of the name has long been lost, except for one phrase⎯ ‘In the darkest depths of the realm of madness, salvation awaits those that can embrace their own occhiolism and sandor.’

“There. The rift!” Kage was the first to reach the clearing in the woods. There was a thin black crack in the air as if there was a tear in the fabric of the world itself. But it was pulsating, like the rhythm of a beating heart, and with each beat, the crack seemed to grow. Even the pillars of stone that formed a pentagon-shaped formation seemed to shake with each heartbeat.

“We must suppress it!” Hikara jumped onto one of the stone pillars, with Kage following soon after. Vines soon reached out and grasped the five stone pillars, leeching as much energy as was given to them, and in return, the heartbeat of the rift seemed to slow.

“We need to hold off until the others get here…” Kage murmured to himself. The magical formation on the ground was originally placed and meant for several Great Spirits, so it was quite a strain even for two Divine Beasts. The rift was originally just small enough for a human to fit through, but it had slowly grown to the point where a trio could walk out with room to spare.

The inhabitants of the Sel Forest would be able to suppress the rift to Aotapia once again, but this time, not without others on the Eiloong continent noticing it.

And one of them was a small individual tucked between her favorite cushion writing away in a black tome with a rainbow-tinted quill pen.