Unto our people, a commandment is given.

Unite and be one. Roghinians will be one nation, one people, the chosen of the Progenitor of Mankind to carry out his Will.

The "Unnamed", First King of Roghinia

Bhorg told the story of the crisis his country was facing to the mysterious lizardman camouflaged as an old man. He did not inquire into the actions of the Surgan; if the Surgan wanted to be an old man then that was barely any of his business. Nothing good would result from unnecessary prying.

One thing he was sure of, the Surgan in front of him wasn’t an ordinary Saurianziir. An eccentric and odd individual, very much different from the solemn and stiff bearing of the Surgan warriors, one that was actually fond of humor. His ability to transform himself and shield his presence from most forms of detection, along with his apparent resistance against soulflames, were much less surprising compared to a playful Saurianziir.

All of the strangeness of the Surgan in front of him did not matter to Bhorg. If a corrupted spirit volunteered its services, he would gladly accept. All in for the sake of peace in Roghinia.

To make his story more coherent, and because the Surgan himself said that he did not have knowledge with regards to Roghinia, Bhorg began by explaining that their kingdom was a conglomeration of different Roghinian clans, formerly nomadic, but has chosen to settle down and form a country because of a great prophecy that they should become a strong nation to prepare for a future calamity.

That was one hundred and fifty years in the past. In present times, Roghinians do not speak of that unknown future calamity, even though it was the reason, the foundation of their unity, mostly because the priest caste who were tasked in predicting such disaster were exiled by the warrior caste to which Bhorg belonged to. The general attitude of the people of Roghinia was to hope that that mysterious calamity would not befall their generation. Others have chalked up the story about the calamity as a myth since nothing has happened for such a long time.

The Surgan calling himself ‘Aya’ frowned at the mention of a future calamity but did not interrupt Bhorg’s tale.

Bhorg continued with an account of how the regime of Roghinia was formerly set up. The priest caste and the warrior caste were of both equal rank. The former interprets the Will of the Progenitor of Mankind while the latter carried out the Will of the Progenitor of Mankind. The Counsel of Equals governed Roghinia, drawing an equal number of representatives from the two most powerful castes.

Some twenty years ago, civil war broke out between the two castes. The Counsel of Equals was dissolved, the priest caste was driven out, and a king was chosen to lead the Roghinians.

“So who did you choose to become king? You have lots of clans, right?” the Surgan asked. “I doubt anyone would just agree to anyone from a certain clan to have power over all the clans.”

“A concept of a king is not a new concept to us,” Bhorg said. “We had a king when the clans formed a nation. One could say that it was because of him that we united. To him, the message from the Progenitor was relayed that we should form a nation.”

The Surgan’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? Woa… He was able to talk with the Progenitor? Uh…well, your Progenitor, not mine. Face to face? This was a hundred fifty years ago, right?”

“A hundred and fifty years in the past,” said Bhorg, nodding his head. “But he didn’t meet with the Progenitor face to face. Such would be impossible. The dire message came to him in a dream. During his fasting ritual, it was said that his mind was filled with the presence of the Progenitor.” Noticing the Surgan’s skeptical expression, Bhorg continued his explanation. “He might have dismissed it as some feverish dream brought upon by extreme hunger, were it not for the fact that when he woke up, beside him was a sword.”

“A sword from the Progenitor of humans? That’s interesting. This sword is still around, am I right?”

“Yes, Elder Saurianziir. The one accepted by the sword was made our king. The sword chooses the one it deems the most powerful among the warriors.”

“Ah, that’s a convenient way of choosing a king,” the Surgan said.

“The clans have accepted the warrior-king chosen by the sword, for indeed, he is the most powerful among us. Unquestionably so.”

Aya the Surgan took out the dragon mask that he bought earlier. “Before you continue your story, could you please wear this mask? Think of it as a present.”

Bhorg accepted the mask with his brow raised. Why should he wear this mask? Was there anything special with it? It was a normal mask designed as a dragon, as far as he could tell. He wore it to avoid displeasing the Surgan. “Thank you for the present, Elder Saurianziir.”

The Surgan smiled, his own human mask became even more wrinkled. “Don’t remove that until it is safe to do so.”

“Safe to do so?”

“It fits you so well. You can pass off as a new breed of lizard man.” The Surgan clapped his hands in delight then gestured for Bhorg to continue on with his story. “So what’s the next part of your story?”

Bhorg adjusted the dragon mask and peered through its eyeholes. He couldn’t read the face of the Surgan—it was merely a disguise anyway. However, he couldn’t get a feel of the Surgan. It seemed like the Surgan had a certain detachment from everything around him. Perhaps it was because he was a lizardman in a city full of humans? He cleared his throat before continuing with his story. An ancient demon spirit. That was the next part.

The vengeful priest caste came back into Roghinia five years ago. They assaulted the main temple of the Progenitor of Mankind, rushed towards the bowels of the temple, deep beneath the earth, where an ancient demon spirit was sealed. Although the warrior caste has taken over the main temple in lieu of the priests, they were not aware that a powerful demon spirit was hidden away inside. There were only a few warriors guarding the temple; the priests, a few dozen in number made short work of them.

A score of priests, took their own lives to undo the seal, the rest fed their souls to the ancient demon spirit to hasten his awakening. And awaken, it did, proceeding to eat the Roghinian warriors who rushed to the temple to fight the attacking priests.

“So that’s the calamity that was prophesied?”

“It wasn’t the foretold calamity, Elder Saurianziir.”

The Surgan scratched his chin in thought. “Makes sense that it wasn’t the calamity. That would be laughably ironic if the reason for the calamity was because you united, then fought against each other, resulting into unleashing this ancient demon spirit you speak of.”

“Many did perish in the fight against the ancient demon spirit. This demon spirit was capable of consuming all life in the capital, and undoubtedly the entire country. Fortunately, our king arrived, wielding the sword, the gift of the Progenitor of Mankind.”

“From your story, it seems that this demon spirit you speak of is very powerful. It could consume life at that rate, huh…” the Surgan trailed off, giving Bhorg a questioning look.

“Our king and the ancient demon spirit were evenly matched, the sword of the Progenitor blessing our ruler with strength beyond imagination,” Bhorg said. “I was there when they fought,” he added in response to the doubtful look of the Surgan. “The numerous warriors of Roghinia then whittled down the demon spirit as our king held him at bay.”

The Surgan whistled. “That’s some powerful sword. So, happy ending?”

“I’m afraid not, Elder Saurianziir,” Bhorg said gravely. “The ancient demon spirit, realizing that it cannot prevail over us, decided to possess our warrior-king. It wasn’t able to completely succeed…”

“Only incompletely succeeded?”

Bhorg explained that the power of the sword stopped the demon spirit from consuming the soul of their king, but it wasn’t able to drive out the demon spirit from inside the body of their king. The demon spirit and the soul of their king was partially merged; depriving their king of his mental capacities, they were effectively without a head of government. The obvious result would be a fight for power among the clans.

But they couldn’t simply choose a new king, Bhorg continued, answering the question that was obvious on the Surgan’s face. The sword chooses their king; the warrior it recognizes as the most powerful among them. The Roghinians expected the sword to choose a new wielder. They assumed that because of the incapacitated state of their king, as unfortunate as it was, the sword would leave him to die and choose the next most powerful warrior.

“The sword stayed with the king.”

“It is as you have said, Elder Saurianziir. The sword chose to keep our warrior-king alive. It did not allow the king to let go of it. The last time I have seen the king, his arm has already melded with the hilt of the sword.”

“Why don’t you choose among yourselves a new king? A tournament sounds good,” the Surgan said. He held one hand close to his heart and raised the other in a pledge. “I promise I won’t join your tournament pretending to be human.”

“If only if it was as simple, Elder Saurianziir. Since the priest caste was driven off, there has been restlessness among the lesser castes, worrying whether the favor of the Progenitor has left us. The leader chosen by the sword would have legitimacy. All the clans would have no qualms when our king is ordained by the sword.”

The Surgan turned its gaze back to the horizon. “So you want me to take out the demon spirit?” he asked, giving Bhorg a sidelong glance.

“If it would be possible to disturb you with this matter, Elder Saurianziir. I have complete confidence that you will be able to drive out this demon spirit.”

“Why would you think that? This ancient demon spirit sounds awfully strong.” The Surgan shrugged. “Why would you think I can separate your king’s soul from the demon spirit? Ah…you must have heard what I did with the other guy possessed with the spirit. But still...”

Bhorg smiled a bit and said, “Elder Saurianziir, when we first met, you folded your brown cloak that you bought and placed it at the far end of the alley with your basket on top.”

“When we shook hands?” the Surgan asked, eyeing Bhorg’s arm that ended in a stump. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.

“You have no need to apologize, esteemed Elder. It was an honor to be able to test my skill against one of such noble Surgan lineage.”

“So, what’s with my basket and brown cloak?” The Surgan tugged the cloak he wore. “It’s this one actually,” he said, referring to the brown cloak he wore over the elegant black robes with golden trimmings that has become a familiar sight in the arena, concealing it completely.

“You placed your basket and cloak far away so that they won’t get caught on fire when I start using the power of my Bloodline.”

“I’m kind of tight on budget, so I didn’t want to buy another cloak. And the basket is quite important to me. Of course I don’t want them to get burned.”

“Elder Saurianziir knew I was a Moltencore even before I used my Bloodline,” Bhorg said with a knowing wink.

The Surgan broke into a laugh. Other people in the park look at the old man who was laughing so energetically that he might get a heart attack. Wiping a tear from his eye, the Surgan said, “That’s a very nice observation. And so what if I did know, Roghinian warrior?”

“I hope it wouldn’t be injudicious to say this, but I conjecture that Elder Saurianziir has the blood of dragons, and by reason of such, you were able to detect the unique active soulflames of humans who have the Moltencore Bloodline,” Bhorg explained. Soulflames do not occur naturally in humans, for their own body would disintegrate. It was not because the soulflames would physically burn the body, but rather it burned life, life itself, the life that supports the flesh. Humans with soulflames can only be Moltencores. While soulflames would not harm nonliving things, the heat given off by a Moltencore transformation would surely burn a cloak and a basket. “Since you were able to know I’m a Moltencore because of my soulflames, then you probably have soulflames as well, since that’s one way to detect a Moltencore, unless one is an experienced scryer.” Bhorg did not add that he himself wasn’t able to detect the soulflames of the Elder Saurianziir. Was it due to the extensive enchantments used by the Surgan to hide his real identity?

The Surgan threw his hands in the air and exhaled with resignation. “You got me. Yep, I’m a new breed of Surgan with dragon blood mixed in. You know about the dragons we keep anyway, so no point hiding.” He wagged his finger at the face of Bhorg who wore a big smile. “But that does not mean that I can exorcise the demon spirit out of your king, Roghinian warrior.”

“I know that while dragons have natural soulflames, they cannot actively control them like human Moltencores. It only means that dragons are immune to soulflames, not that they can use them,” Bhorg said. “However, the story of Elder Saurianziir’s exorcism with one punch led me to believe that the dragon blood that flows through your veins possibly came from a species of dragon that can control soulflames—maybe a lesser form of the legendary Immateyrian Dragons that have been extinct for centuries.”

“Those are just stories…Just exaggerating what I did in the arena.”

“If I might add, Elder Saurianziir was able to rebound my soulflames and agitate their flow inside my own body, causing me to lose my hand.” Bhorg initially did not want to mention his severed hand, it would seem so petty for a Roghinian warrior to mention a mere severed hand when he was the one who made the challenge of strength in the first place when he half-transformed his hand into a Moltencore. However, he was getting desperate on convincing the Surgan to agree with helping him. While the Surgan appeared to be peculiar, he also gives the impression that he was genuinely worried about Bhorg’s hand.

The Surgan sighed while rubbing his forehead. “Roghinia is such a far off place from here, and I have stuff to do here, as well.”

“I would gladly help out with whatever Elder Saurianzir requires of me,” Bhorg quickly replied, although he knew that it would be going against the orders of Lady Lantana.

“I need passage to Mandolin City,” the Surgan said after appearing to have mulled things over. “Not simply safe, I also want it to be entertaining. Perhaps a hired bodyguard, part of an adventurer team, something like that. More on the entertaining part than safe, actually. Something to keep me amused along the way.”

It was a simple request for such a monumental task that Bhorg had asked of the Surgan that he promptly agreed. Their clan had several contacts in the city that helped them in transporting the weapons that they have bought back to Roghinia. With those contacts, he could easily give the Surgan what he wanted. The problem was that he should arrange it without Lady Lantana noticing

“I’ll leave this city after I win this tournament.”

“It is certain that Elder Saurianziir will win this,” Bhorg said, trying his hand at flattery.

"Of course, I’ll win. There seem to be some restrictions in joining? I don’t see a lot of Bloodlines. I doubt the top fighters of Krysperia are allowed.”

“I believe the military and families affiliated with Krysperian military are barred from entering. That immediately excludes many Bloodlines. The Gaomant, on the other hand, and other weapon-making families are dealing with the military as a private contractor, that is why they are allowed to join, mostly to display their wares.”

“I’m sure there are more restrictions. Anyway, I’ll probably be done with the business I have in Mandolin within a couple of months. Not so sure, actually. Three to four months maybe. After I’ll go to Roghinia and fix your king.”

Bhorg clenched his remaining fist in triumph. A devout follower of the Progenitor, he believed that their nation could not remain united to meet the divined calamity if their current political situation was allowed to continue—his own clan was already preparing to fight against the others to control the country! He held the firm belief that Roghinia should remain intact until the prophesied day comes when the Progenitor would need them; he was part of the minority that still believed in the ancient prophecy. During the war against the priest caste, he only reluctantly joined the fight when it became apparent that the priests were going against the teachings of the Progenitor. Bhorg also does not want to shed Roghinian blood again. He trained to fight for the Progenitor of Mankind, not to fight for control of their country.

“I’m kind of interested, though. Just how ancient is this demon spirit?” the Surgan said.

“I’m afraid I do not have sufficient knowledge to answer your question.”

“Let’s say ‘bout three hundred, maybe four, or five hundred years old kind of ancient?”

Bhorg bowed his head. “I apologize for not being able to provide an answer to your query, Elder Saurianziir. I am not certain if even the priest caste will be able to answer. However, I am sure that it was sealed before the founding of our country. It wasn’t the Roghinian priests that sealed the demon spirit, that much I am certain.”

“Let’s see… One hundred and fifty years. And it was already powerful when it was sealed so let’s add a couple of hundred years to that,” the Surgan muttered. Then he shook his head. “No, no, no. Something that powerful, two hundred years is not enough.” He looked up and Bhorg and smiled reassuringly. “I’ll patch up your king after I do my thing in Mandolin City. Don’t worry ‘bout that. I just thought that it would be interesting if your demon spirit thingy is older than this empire, Krysperia.” The Surgan chuckled, but his eyes narrowed and was unfocused for a moment, as if thinking about something else.

Bhorg wanted to offer some help with the mission of the Surgan. Would that be too imprudent? The Surgan has already probably guessed what Bhorg and his fellow Roghinian warriors were doing in Krysperium, the manaforge capital of Forkspear, but Bhorg does not have any idea what the Surgan would want in Krysperia. Surgans normally weren’t interested in the affairs of humans.

“Just find me a nice trip to Mandolin, Roghinian warrior. A mercenary team escorting a rich merchant also sounds fun. No need to help me with what I will do there,” the Surgan said, as if reading Bhorg’s mind. “I’m looking for some people who might know a person that I know.”

“Who is this person—?” Bhorg stopped himself then bowed. “I’m sorry for asking such a sensitive matter, Elder Saurianziir. My eagerness to help you stems from my desire for the speedy recovery of our warrior king. I apologize and I hope you understand.”

The Surgan motioned for Bhorg to come closer. He cupped his hands in front of him. Droplets of red light oozed through the skin of the Surgan, swirling, dancing, whizzing across his palm. “Irritating runes,” mumbled the Elder Saurianziir. “But I suppose their concealment effects far outweigh the nuisance they cause me.”

Bhorg observed intently the bloodred runes forming on the skin of the Surgan. He did not dare interrupt the spell that was being cast.

“I’m sure you have doubts on whether or not I’ll keep my promise and go to Roghinia and patch up your king. Can’t blame you.”

“That’s not true, I have complete trust in Elder Saurianziir,” Bhorg stammered, trying to tear away his gaze from the mesmerizing runes that he hasn’t seen before in his life.

Aya, the Surgan, raised his hands, the runes glowed like red-hot coal, almost burning themselves onto his skin. “I’ll share with you a secret of the Surgans. And with this, you will know who are the people that I am looking for. You will also know that you will not be able to help in my search. And in sharing with you this secret, you will know the sincerity of my promise.”

Bhorg held his breath as a purple haze covered the hands of the Surgan. He hasn’t encountered this type of magic before. The tattoos all over his body began to itch, reacting to the mysterious magic that the Surgan was using. A feeling that he hasn’t experienced for a long time welled up inside him; the primal fear of all humans of the unknown. The magic gave off an abnormal aura. Too abnormal that Bhorg could not put it into words.

“Have you seen this type of magic before? Come on, guess what this is.”

“Void magic,” Bhorg whispered. The lost magic that came from the void gate. The magic hated by believers of Paximillon. He could taste the bile at the back of his tongue. His vision became hazy. “How?” he managed to ask, averting his gaze and retreating a few steps back.

“Surprised? Surgan mages are all elemental. Until now, that is.”

“You’re looking for void mages?” He tried looking once again. This was real void magic?

“You have a good head on your shoulders, Roghinian warrior,” the Surgan said, as he continued with his magic. The purple haze formed into a ball of writhing snakes. The red runes subsided and sunk back into the skin of the Surgan. “A faction of the Surgan elite have started research into void magic. We need void mage blood. And with that, you know of my secret mission.” The purple ball of coiling tentacles solidified. Giving it a couple of playful tosses, the Surgan said, “Looks fine. I can only manage this crappy level of void magic.”

Bhorg composed himself, pushing the surprising information at the back of his head. He only needed the Surgan to cure their warrior-king. Meddling in the affairs of the Surgans and their experiments would not benefit Roghinia. But he couldn’t help but worry about the actions of the Surgans. Why were they forcefully evolving their species? Why would they need new powerful hybrid lizardmen? Should he be wary of the Surgans? “I will also gather information about the void mages, Elder Saurianziir. I have no idea where they might be but the biggest chance will be somewhere far from here. There is no way for them to survive inside Krysperia.”

“Believe me, Roghinian warrior. There are void mages still surviving in Krysperia and it is imperative that they are the ones I meet. Not the void mages from other places. After I meet them, I will go fix your king.”

“By that time, I would have already prepared a suitable compensation for such noble deed,” Bhorg said.

“Hey, I said, I just need a free trip to Mandolin—”

Movement in his peripheral vision made Bhorg jump to shield the Surgan. Something massive fell down from the sky in front of them. Rocks flew around as the pavement exploded from the landing of a rather large object. Bhorg raised his arms in front of him, debris bouncing harmlessly off him.

“Don’t let them get a view of your tattoos, Roghinian,” the Elder Saurianziir said, patting Bhorg on the back. “Also, hide your stumpy, uh, sorry, I meant don’t let them see your severed hand.”

A red orb glowed through the dust floating around. Its beam of light focused on the two of them. People in the park screamed and ran in different directions. Two more crashes. More of these things were coming. Bhorg hugged himself, hiding his arms up his sleeves and tucking the sleeves close to his body. “Golems,” he said as the figure that crashed before them stood its full height. Its right arm ended in a massive claw, reaching past its knees while its left hand was a bludgeon that flared up their arm—doubling as a shield. A red claw reached forth from the clouds of dust. Bhorg kicked it away, knocking the arm back with such force that the golem lost its footing momentarily, enough for Bhorg to deliver another kick. But, the golem quickly raised its shield to absorb the blow. The other golems also closed in. “What are these golems doing here?”

“Oh. Red ones. They probably came after detecting my void energy. I apologize, Roghinian warrior. I was careless.”

“We have to escape,” Bhorg said., his eyes darting around. Half a dozen city guards herded the people away from them. Only the three golems were blocking their path. He was confident that he can fight his way out.

“Yes. Both of us can’t afford to get caught.”

“Surrender yourselves!” A booming voice from above said. “We have detected abominable energies emitted from your location.”

Three mages cloaked in the red of the city guards floated above them. Bhorg gritted his teeth. If Lady Lantana knew of this, her wrath would be immeasurable. Their presence in the city should not be known to the other Roghinian clans. They should escape before more guards come. “Elder Saurianziir, I’ll open a path. You escape.”

“Those white armored people aren’t here yet. Let’s play with them for a while.”

“White?” Bhorg asked. What was the Elder Saurinziir talking about? The three-pronged claws of the golems tried reaching for them but he kept kicking them out of the way. “We can’t just stand here. Let us flee. They shouldn’t be able to hold us.”

The Surgan rushed out from behind Bhorg, meeting bashing arm of the golem. He easily ducked, dove between the legs of another golem and ran for the crowds of people fleeing.

“He’s trying to escape!” screamed one of the mages. “Restrain them!” He swooped down, putting himself between the people and the Surgan, a wall of earth rising behind him. Balls of gravel detached themselves from the wall and shoot towards the Surgan, forcing him to change direction. “Golems go after him!”

Bhorg gritted his teeth. He might not be able to fathom what was going on inside the head of the Surgan but he couldn’t leave him. A lasso of light snapped at him. One of the mages was trying to tie him up. He activated the tattoos on his feet, boosting his speed, and caught up with the golems chasing the Surgan.

“Threats to Krysperia must be eliminated!” shouted another mage, beginning to cast a massive vortex of fire.

It was hard to fight with only his feet and limiting his tattoos to speed and strength boosts to his legs so as to not give off signs that he was a Roghinian. The fire mage needed to be stopped. The powerful spell being cast would force the Surgan and him to use their real strength to come out unscathed. He zipped in front of a golem. The golem made a grab for him. He stooped low to avoid the claw, then he stepped to the side of the golem, delivering a powerful kick to its abdomen. The golem flew toward the fire mage who easily flew out of the way but stopped casting his spells. Bhorg jumped back to evade several retaliatory fireballs.

The Surgan clambered on top of another golem while it frantically tried to shake him off. The remaining golem jumped on its fellow to catch the Surgan but he just jumped away, leaving the two golems entangled with each other. “Hey!” the Surgan said, pointing at the mage who tried casting the fire vortex spell. “Didn’t your leader say ‘restrain them’? Barbecuing them is not restraining them, get it?”

More soldiers came, arranging themselves around the Surgan. They were equipped with sealing shields. The Surgan merely scoffed as they activated a restraining field with the mana gems slotted to their shields. With fluidity that came from dedicated practice, the soldiers switched to the secondary mana gem on their shields and proceeded to slowly extract elemental essences from inside the area of the restraining field.

The Surgan raised his hand high. Sitting on his palm was the purple ball made of energies hailed from beyond the void gate. All the soldiers flinched but they held their place in the magic circle; if even one of them left, the whole setup would collapse. “Are you people serious with this?” the Surgan said with a slight derisive tone in his voice. “You people are trying to starve me of elemental essences? Is this your standard procedure against mages?”

Should he charge the formation and drag the Surgan out, Bhorg wondered. The three golems closed in on him. Two mages floated over him, the other one floated over the Surgan. If he transformed, he could defeat the guards before their reinforcements arrive. Should he risk it?

“Let’s have some basic education, people!” The Surgan shook the purple ball of writhing tentacles on his palm. “Void magic does not need elemental essence. So do this thingy you have here when you’re up against an elemental mage, alright?”

“He’s a void mage?”

“They still exist?

“He’s just scaring us,” said one soldier.

“If one strand of this touches you, you will be corrupted,” the Surgan said. "Simply looking at this, you know that this is void magic.”

“Don’t look at that thing,” shouted a mage. He held his stomach as if he was about to keel.

“It’s real voi—Aaaah!”

Half a dozen strands of void matter unraveled from the ball and shot for the soldiers. It easily bypassed the restraining field. The soldiers broke ranks and ran, chased by purple worms. The fire mage went wild and began to scream while shooting every spell he could think of at the snakes, nearly hitting the soldiers. The earth mage struggled to keep afloat. The sight of void magic interfered with his concentration in using the programed wind spell in his equipment. The last mage had fainted and laid on the ground.

An opening. Bhorg extracted himself from the three golems with their huge excitable claws and headed for the Surgan. “Elder, let us leave while they are distracted,” he said.

“But I haven’t seen a white golem yet,” the Surgan replied.

“If you would permit me to carry you, we could flee faster.”

“Come on. This is fun. Aw, they torched all my little snakes.” The Surgan waved his ball of void magic at the soldiers who were intent on keeping their distance. “This is formed with potent void magic! One touch is all it takes!” The Surgan covered his mouth and whispered to Bhorg, “This is just a simple spell that ties up people. Pretty harmless actually.”

Bhorg swallowed. What should he do in this situation? Should he grab the Surgan and run? The Surgan might be offended if he did that. But they would both be caught if they stayed. “Elder, please. More of them will come. We should go.”

“Wait, wait. Just a bit.” The Surgan pointed at the fire mage. “You! Are you good at playing catch? Here!” He threw the ball of void snakes at the fire mage. The fire mage zipped up while dragging the half-conscious earth mage beside him. The ball the Surgan threw exploded in mid-air, sending dozens of void snakes flying all around them.

“Everyone, don’t touch those!” the fire mage shouted. “Flee! Don’t get corrupted.” He shot off fire spells while evading the snakes that were whizzing across the air.

The soldiers planted their shields on the ground, forming a wall with their mana gems, immediately retreating afterward. Effortlessly passing through the magical wall, the void snakes zigzagged all over the place, evading the fire spells, while steadily making their way for the soldiers. The soldiers, to their credit, drew their swords and stood their ground, their faces determined.

A keen whistling sound.

“Woah, what the…” the Surgan blurted out. All of the dozens of void snakes racing everywhere were diced to dust.

The soldiers broke into cheering. “Captain Gregory! Captain Gregory!”

“I honestly don’t know what the grakk happened. It’s that old man, right?”

“This does not bode well for us,” Bhorg said. He eyed the old man that materialized in front of them as if stepping out from a curtain of wind. This person must be the ‘Captain Gregory’ the soldiers cheered for. Captain Gregory held a rapier in his right hand, its hilt was a silver dragon coiling around his hand, its blade was transparent and extremely thin as if a thin sheet of ice molded into a sword. “It would be difficult to get past him,” he said. He would need to transform to take on this Captain Gregory.

“We’re not going forward,” the Surgan said, glancing back at a puzzled Bhorg. “Just wait for my signal and carry me.”

“Void mages,” Captain Gregory said, his eyes narrowed.

The Surgan waved his hand. “Here. That’s us. We’re void mages.”

“You have desecrated this city with your presence.”

“That’s some heavy accusation. We just wanted to watch the festival. Is that a crime now?”

“Surrender yourselves,” Captain Gregory said. “Any resistance will only be for naught.”

“Let’s kill them, Captain Gregory! We should not permit their existence!” the fire mage said.

“Wait!” A white-armored warrior shouldered his way to the front of the line of shoulders. “Captain Gregory, we should capture them. We can extract a wealth of information from them.”

“Ready yourself Roghinian,” the Surgan said. Turning to the soldiers, he spread his hands and said, “I have a present for you, noble followers of Paxmillon." He began trembling, his bones cracked, his body started to twist uncontrollably. “I’m going to transform into a monster of the Negatorium!”

“Defensive formations! Setup a physical type repulsive barrier! Pour all the energy in your mana gems.” The soldiers arranged themselves according to the orders of their captain. “Mages, enchantments on me! I’m going to contain this monster here. Paximillon is with us!” Captain Gregory bathed under the light of different hues as reinforcement spells were cast on him. He dropped into a stance, his right foot forward and his rapier pointed straight at the Surgan’s head.

“Elder,” Bhorg said, worried at the state of the Surgan who dropped to his knees while frothing at his mouth. The Surgan let out an unearthly scream that made even Bhorg feel a fleeting fear. Was this the true power of the void? The Surgan clawed at the earth, in seemingly extreme pain, his body convulsing. Was he going to transform? He doesn’t understand why the Surgan wanted to fight—he should just leave him.

“Hey,” the Surgan said to Bhorg, “Let’s go.”

What? Understanding then dawned on Bhorg. He grabbed the Surgan and rushed for the edge of the city level. The tattoos on his legs greatly increasing his speed and strength, he reached the railings lining the brink of the city level even before Captain Gregory or his troops realized what happened.

“Black should look good on you,” Aileen said to Quill. Mr. Glarond, the storekeeper was finishing Quill’s measurements. “Black with your hairstyle makes you look like a mysterious heroine.”

“Re-really?” Quills said as she fiddled with her hair.

“Or an assassin of sorts. Covering half your face also makes you look sort of sketchy.”

“Wha-! Should I change it?” Quill patted the part of her face covered by her hair. “But the eyepatch would show.”

“Just kidding,” Aileen said, laughing. She examined her hair on one of the mirrors in the shop. “Fahllyrs mostly have naturally wavy hair but yours is straight.”

“I, um, I got it from my mom.”

“I haven’t seen your mom before," Aileen said. "Oh, you’re done.”

The storekeeper stood up and gathered all his measuring equipment, jotting down notes on a piece of paper. “Thank you for your patience, Lady Quill. I had to make sure I had all your measurements right.”

“I’m sure Quill doesn’t mind.” Aileen gestured to her own leather armor. “Having an armor with custom fit is way better than just picking up a ready-made one. Most armor are made for men.”

“We will have it delivered in a month, my lady.”

“It will take that long?” Quill frantically asked. “Aileen would have already left the temple at that time.”

Aileen sighed. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll still be here in the city. Father will send me to Milla Lyceum.”

“I thought you wanted to go to the family stronghold...” After catching sight of Aileen’s sorrowful face, Quill fell silent.

Aileen patted Quill. “I understand why my father wants me to go to Milla Lyceum. All of us have duties that we must fulfill. You have yours too.”

Quill nodded. She reached for her right eye, covered by her hair, and just held it while in thought.

“Let’s go back to the temple,” Aileen said cheerily. “I’m sure Jel is angry with us already.”

“Really?” Quill asked with a worried look on her face. “I don’t want her to get angry.”

Aileen suddenly cocked her head. “What was that?”

“Sounds like a small explosion.”

Mr. Glarond cupped his hand by his ear. “There was an explosion? I haven’t heard anything.”

“Thanks, Mr. Glarond!” Aileen said as she rushed outside.

Quill followed Aileen but then stopped by the door. She turned back to the storekeeper and bowed. “Thank you, Mr. Glarond.”

Mr. Glarond waved his arms. “No need to bow Lady Fahllyr. And what was that about an explosion—?”

“Just stay inside. We’ll look into it,” Aileen said, sticking her head inside the store. She grabbed Quill’s arm and dragged her toward the sound of the explosion. It didn’t sound like fireworks and she didn’t know of any event that day that would need fireworks. It sounded more like an explosion caused by fire spells.

“The explosions stopped. Maybe the guards have it under control? And it sounded far off.”

“Let’s go anyway. There might be people who are hurt. We should help them.”

The two of them hurried in the general direction of the explosion. The people they passed bowed and gave way to them. No one around them reacted to the explosions; they probably didn’t hear them. But Aileen was certain that there were explosions; the Fahllyrs have a very sharp sense of hearing. There were places in Krysperium where explosive spells might be used, but they have spells to erase the noise. The arena has spells to control the noise of the competitions held inside, otherwise it would disturb the operations of the temple a short distance away.

“More explosions. Oh, I hope no one is hurt.”

Aileen said, “This isn’t probably some novice mage practicing in his backyard.”

“Maybe there’s a magical accident somewhere,” Quill said.

“Where are those explosions coming from?”

“Look!” Quill said, pointing up. “The next level, there, near the edge!”

Aileen cursed under her breath. This doesn’t seem to be a simple case. There was smoke rising from the edge of the upper level of the city. A couple flashes of light. A fight? A park was there if she remembered correctly. Hopefully, the city guards have secured the safety of the people.

“Are... are we go-going there?” Quill followed Aileen as she jumped over to the roof of a store to get a better look. “This is not the direction of the gate to the next level. You’re going to fly up?”

“That’s the faster option. I honestly suck at flying on my own but I can summon wind spirits to carry us up there.” Flying was one of her weaknesses, besides teleporting. It came as a side effect of her massive mana pool. She could not maintain a thin veil of wind essence needed for flight magic because her mana comes crashing out like a burst dam. It was also the reason why she prefers using wind spirits which were mana intensive. She snorted. Having a wind spirit that can fly carry you around was nearly the same, anyway, she told herself.

“Aileen, there are people near the edge. They jumped off!”

Aileen focused her eyes on the two falling bodies. A very large man with a mask of some kind and an old man. The old man was pretending to swim through the air while laughing. For some reason, she had an incredible urge to punch this man. “Someone is jumping after them.”

“It’s…it’s”

“It’s Captian Gregory. He looks very angry.”

“Did those two cause the explosions?”

“Maybe. Let’s go catch them! Both of us are already in armor.” Aileen gave Quill a thumbs up. “Two daughters of Fahllyr should be able to catch to criminals,” she said.

Quill nodded. “Ye-yes,” she replied weakly.

They arrived at the spot where the two suspicious individuals have landed, followed by Captain Gregory. However, the Fahllyrs weren’t able to find any trace of the people they wanted to capture or the captain of the city guards. They spent several minutes wandering around until they came upon a couple of guards lying on the ground.

“They’re just unconscious,” said Aileen after she stooped down to check on the guards.

Quill breathed in relief. “Praises be to Paximillon. Those two are dangerous we should—”

“Capture them,” Aileen interjected.

“Um, the guards are already here, Captain Gregory as well.”

“We’re Fahllyrs. We shouldn’t be afraid of two crooks.” Aileen turned around. There’s no sign of where those two mysterious people may have gone. “Grakk this. Quill can you see something with your eye? Anything to point us to the right direction.”

“I’m not a scryer. And I can’t use this eye,” Quill said with a bitter tone. “You kno-know that,” she nearly whispered, her head hung down.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Aileen hit herself inside her head. Why did she say that? “Let’s keep moving.”

“It’s like they disappeared!” Quill said. “We only met some guards but they also don’t know what’s happening.”

Aileen frowned as they kept on running over the rooftops. This was frustrating. They kept on searching but they didn’t see any sign of those two. She also hasn’t seen Captain Gregory. She looked back to check on Quill and saw that Quill stopped a couple of houses back. She hopped over to Quill’s side and asked what was wrong.

Quill brushed aside the hair covering the right side of her face revealing a metallic eye patch with golden inscriptions. She massaged around the eyepatch and winced. “My eye started hurting when I looked over that part.” She pointed to a large group of people that stopped in front of a general store about fifty meters away.

“Has this happened before?” Aileen jumped to the streets below and ran for the large store.

Quill was right behind her, her hand covering her right eye. She had a pained expression on her face. “No, this hasn’t happened before. The eye has been dormant all this time.”

The group of people was from a caravan of merchants. They were replenishing their supplies. Aileen and Quill watched them from an alley across the street.

“Help me in looking for someone that looks suspicious,” Aileen said. Most of them were packing their wagons with boxes of food and other supplies. Some of them were repairing their wagons. There were also children playing with each other.

“I-I can’t look. It hu-hurts so much.” Quill sounded like she was about to cry.

Aileen rolled her eyes. “Quill, alright, just stay behind me. Whatever’s causing the pain in your eye is someone there.” There wasn’t anyone in the caravan group that would match the very large man with the mask that they saw earlier, so that leaves the old man with him. She should look for someone that wasn’t part of the group. Someone trying to blend in the group but actually did no work. A person wearing a brown cloak stood near the pile of supplies and appeared to be chatting with the people of the caravan. He did not lift anything or help them in any way, but he had her back to the Fahllyrs. Aileen bit her lip. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around.

The man slowly turned to face Aileen. He had his hood over his head but Aileen could see that he was an old man. Was this the old man she saw falling from the upper level? Their eyes met. A smile formed on the old man’s face. A smile that evoked feelings of wanting to punch someone deep within Aileen’s heart. It’s the bastard. The old man then suddenly ran away down the street. “Quill, draw your sword! We also shouldn’t fight near these people.”

“What? What’s happening,” Quill said, confused, as they rushed out of the street.

"Follow me," Aileen said. She summoned galehounds to help them in chasing down the old man. They jumped over the line of wagons and ran after the old man. She also summoned a couple of flying wind familiars to track the movements of their target. The galehounds headed for another path. "I'll have my spirits cut him off further ahead. Be ready to engage," She said as she summoned another batch of galehounds. Her heart pounded with excitement. This was her chance to show what she can do without the supervision of anyone. She felt a warm feeling cover her.

Quill gave her a thumbs up. "I thought this might help. I don't know much about reinforcing enchantments. I'm sorry if it's only a simple one."

"Let catch this groofing grakker," Aileen said. She sent her galehounds over the buildings to their right, cutting over the block. "My flyers see a dead end to our left. My galehounds will hem him in and also prevent him from escaping over the buildings." She inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled as she summoned yet another batch of galehounds.

"Aileen, will you be fine with this many summons? You have an army!" Quill said with a mix of concern and admiration.

Aileen waved it off. "I'm fine. I can maintain this."

Her plan worked perfectly. They managed to drive their target towards the dead end. Obviously, he wasn't familiar with the intricate streets of Krysperium, plus, Aileen had the benefit of her flying wind spirits to scout for her. The old man stared at tall walls around him.

“This is as far as you go, old man. I don’t know what you did up there but the guards are chasing you, so I suppose it was something awful,” Aileen said. “You’re probably entertaining thoughts of escaping but it’s not a good idea to entertain those thoughts. Actually, make them go away. Tell those thoughts of escaping to go have a vacation or something because having them around will bring you a lot of pain. Just ask my pals up the walls.” The galehounds that she summoned earlier stationed themselves on top of the walls. They growled at the old man below them. Aileen summoned a couple of Borean guardians to protect Quill. Unlike her, Quill has no fighting experience. She now knew what her sister felt when she was assigned to her battalion.

The old man slowly turned to face the two Fahllyrs. He removed his hood and said, “Hey, there ladies! Didn’t see you there. I was too focused on my jog. I don’t forget to exercise even though I’m old. We’ll, I’m finished with my daily routine. I’ll just go back to my house.” He walked towards Aileen but stopped as she pointed her sword at him.

“That’s as far as you go, old man. I advise you to surrender yourself peacefully and no one needs to get hurt,” Aileen said. She was sure that she hasn’t seen this man before but why does she want to punch him?

“Too late for that. Your friend looks like she’s hurt.”

“What?” The sound of a sword clinking on the ground made Aileen look away from the old man. “Quill? What happened?” The old man was right, there was something wrong with Quill. Quill dropped her sword and was pressing her right eye with both hands. “What did you do to her?” Aileen said as she went to Quill’s side.

“I said I was jogging. Can’t an old man jog without getting ambushed by a ton of monsters and two insane girls?”

“Quill what’s wrong?” Aileen didn’t get an answer. A Borean guardian caught Quill as she fell. She still held on to her right eye as blood seeped through her fingers. Her body was going rigid. “Damn, damn it. What the grakk did you do to her?” Aileen coated her sword with slicing winds.

“I have the power of hurting others by doing nothing,” the old man said dryly.

“I knew it!” Aileen said. “Galehounds attack!”

“Hey, I was being sarcastic!”

The galehounds leaped down on the old man. They latched and bit him, but the old man still stood, unfazed by the galehounds attached to him.

“This was not how I pictured by jogging to end,” the old man said, grinning at Aileen.

Aileen let out a shout of frustration and charged the old man, her sword held high. Her vision was suddenly covered. The old man grabbed hold of her head! He smashed her down the pavement. She waved her sword wildly, trying to get hit him. Her sword connected with something very hard, she kept on hacking blindly with her sword. "Everyone, get him off me."

"Wow, your summons are incredibly annoying," the old man said.

AIleen couldn't see anything because the old man's hand still covered her face but she could feel the that the old man was fighting off her wind spirits. She didn't know why she can't cut him. There was no way she's going to die here. And she still has to go find help for Quill. "I'll kill you! Take your hand off me!" She was lifted off the ground. The old man probably stood up, but he still held onto her head.

"You're really crazy and I'm tired of this." The old man smashed her against the wall, then threw her against the opposite wall. "See, I have a door now. Bye, bye crazy lady. Take your summons." He ripped off the galehounds biting him and threw them at Aileen who was still trying to clear her head.

"Wait! I'll kill you!," Aileen shouted before the wall collapsed on top of her.