The party's leader decided that the Wizard and her "slave" would be positioned on the right flank. "Slave" huh, well it doesn't matter. To be frank, I still look like a hobo and there's no point getting new clothes at this point, they would only be temporary anyways. At first they wanted us to be in the front, as bait for a possible attack, but when Olana told their leader that we can travel behind them everyone reached a compromise. Having no desire for someone who you don't trust to guard your back helps.

It looks like Olana became a bit more confident as soon as we weren't alone. A person who would be feeling more like herself in a big group of strangers... I really don't want to think about her stranger behaviour anymore, but this strange detail raises more and more questions, it makes me debate whether or not I made the right decision to travel with her.

She continued to stare at me with expectation, but her actions didn't get her any results. In the game of stubbornness she's strong, but not as strong as I am. Maybe she's used to everything going her way, or she simply believes that a single word or glance from her is enough for the world to bend to her will. After about an hour she started the talk herself.

"Listen, I know that you can't tell me much, but at least tell me your name. We've been traveling together for about two weeks and I still don't know what to call you."

After about ten seconds of silence I answered. "B117."

I should've replied with my real name but somehow, I replied with my Blood Legion ID.

My name.

[Isn't it ironic that you've hid your name for so long, but told it to the mayor of a small, random village. Oh wait, it was a Qaes village. Right, you killed them all didn't you? The first, in nearly a decade to hear your name, and their fate was to die by your hand.]

[Did you want to leave at least your name behind? Hoping it would exist in someones memory?]

"Oh, a code name. Okay, that's progress."

After another hour of silence she continued.

"I'm really sorry, I just want to know how my uncle is. I haven't heard about him in quite some time. I'm not asking for information about something important, like your mission or a secret, or information about someone big like the Blood Hand, Saint Protus, The Bleeding Shadow, or even that psychopath Inquisitor. Please, he's my uncle."

I continue to stare forwards, ignoring the question as if it wasn't asked several times.

"God damn you." She mutter with a scowl.

[Interesting how two of the names she mentioned were actual the same person, the uncle she's asking about.]

Yorgan always excelled at manipulation of blood and hiding in the shadows, but in the end it didn't save him.

Protus. A Saint? If only they knew how far they were from the truth.

I would give up a lot to make him disappear from the face of the Earth, to take him with me to hell, so much could be solved with his death alone, but alas it will never happen. Even if I could somehow bypass his twelve incredibly experienced Enforcers and Wizards bodyguards who constantly stick to him, Protus himself is a totally different story. Even if half the continent gathered together against him alone, they would be but ants before a god. And he wouldn't hesitate for even a faction of a second to take capital action.

His words still echo in my mind from time to time.

"Life itself is violence. All societies and all species exist only because of violence. It's the thing that holds us all together, the universal currency, and all other forms of control or existence derive from it. What stops a stranger from taking your property or life? Tell them to stop? Beg for your life? Pretty words and laws are worth nothing if there is no violence to uphold them. Don't be, even for a fraction of a second, misled by the existence of some peace preaching creatures, who claim to be able to survive with no violence at all, that is only possible because they live in society of violence, even though they don't see or understand it. As soon as you extract them from the said society they cease to exist."

He's not wrong, but he isn't right.

It's not all about violence, or at least I try to believe so.

...

A lady in her mid forties is telling stories to a small child on her lap, who looks around five, things about mana and magic, which are just so utterly, ridiculous. But it pales in comparison to what she is telling about the Blood Brotherhood. The evening chill makes the people bundle together around the fire to warm up. We've crossed the sandy part of the desert, which is really good news. The rocky terrain were in doesn't protect us from the cold wind, and a few burning twigs of dried caricature on a tree don't do a good job of warming us up. And so we all sit and listen to the story.

"...they are feared by all, their brothers the Blood Legion, their masters and simple folk. People don't usually see them, as they hunt during the night. But you can know it's them when you smell the thick scent of blood accompanied by screams. They bathe in the blood of their enemies and become stronger with each battle. But fear not child, they are the darkest creatures of the night, yet they serve the light. They will never hurt the innocent, never come into the houses of the righteous, and never spill the blood of the pure."

I really want to laugh right now. This whole "be good and you won't die" bullshit gets more and more ridiculous with each iteration. Olana keeps stealing glances at me, looking for my reaction to the story. The ogre and elf are silent as they look into the fire. They decided to make a proper burial of their friend in the next city, they wrapped his body in cloth and put it on a horse, but the burning sun has started to take its toll on the body. The freezing night is accompanied by the smell of rotten flesh, to which a few wanted to raise complaints, but didn't.

The story continued, painting the Blood Brothers something akin to demons who consume the blood and can morph into anything they desire, who can kill armies with blood magic. Most of it's bullshit, but there are pieces of truth in it. Every single one of the Blood Brotherhood uses some form of blood magic. There are those who can siphon mana from the blood of enemies, those that turn blood into armour or weapons, those that can manipulate blood as if it's water, and much, much more. But it dependent on affinity, more than people think.

In the most respected books on magic affinity it's described as the combination of the physical body structure, state of the spirit, and the will of the mind. Those books usually talk about the way to find your affinity and accept it as representation of what you are, and what you should be. The only thing scholars talk about in the subject of affinity is the philosophical, spiritual, and abstract stuff. But when you start digging deeper you find more, and the more you gaze into the abyss, the more the abyss gazes into you, literally. According to my finding, the thing people call "affinity" is more of a tunnel to the "soul" of something. In the books, people described that as energy flowing in both directions, where you send internal mana to that "special" soul through a "gate" and receive elemental or arcane mana back.

According to the modern consensus those souls and their mana divide into two basic pillars, elemental and arcane. The elemental pillar divides into four categories, earth, water, wind, and fire. While the arcane divides into energy, matter, spirit, and gravity. There was a time when mages theorized that there is a third pillar, the internal mana pillar, but it was dismissed a long time ago as just a part of the spirit group of the arcane pillar. It's easier to think of it that way, or things get strange and complicated.

It makes absolutely no sense that the mana of one group can transform into the mana of another group which may belong to a totally different pillar. But it is accepted fact and all public theories are built upon it.

The public ones.

Anyways, all the spells that ever existed used a combination or subset of man from those eight groups. Many mages don't know that the elemental pillar actually represents the four states of matter.

Earth for solid.

Water for liquid.

Wind for gas.

Fire for plasma.

Things with the arcane pillar are a bit different, some believed that they represented the laws by which our world is governed. But Wizards don't think about it, they don't need to, they can just feel the "gates". It's as if you're asking how exactly does your body move the way you want, you don't need to understand biology to make your limbs move. You just desire them to. Mighty warriors can reach the pinnacle of physical strength without knowing even a bit of biology, the same is for magic. It just works, and you can feel it, no need for complicated explanations.

When a person tries to perform a spell, he sends his internal mana through the gate, which causes a manifestation of external mana, which would fuel the spell. And depending in the amount you send to each gate a different type of mana is manifested. Wizards spend their lifetimes increasing their affinity, which results in a "wider" gate, with which they can cast more powerful spells.

Every single person has an affinity, even the most rural peasant has, a faint one but still, an affinity.

I am an exception.

I was always an exception, even at the academy.

...

My dad died when I was really young, I don't even remember his face, just his warm smile and the hugs he gave me when we sat on his armchair. Just another death of a soldier in a small feud between local lords, nothing noble, a simple "issue" of ownership over a small patch of earth in the middle of nowhere. Ridiculous, isn't it? A small patch of earth was worth more than he could earn in his entire life, more than his life.

Mother was a seamstress in a small town. She didn't earn much but it was enough to feed us. I spent most of my time either helping her or reading books in a tiny seven square meter roo, she called her workshop, which was also our house. The book store owner who lived next door had an agreement with my mother, he would lend books to me for free as long as I didn't damage them, and in return my mother would fix his family's clothes for free. It kept me busy with something that kept me out of my mother's way, and helped me get smarter. She was happy with the way things turned out. Life was hard but simple.

When I was ten I passed the local magic academy's test, which I was encouraged to take by my mother. By the examiner's words my general knowledge and intelligence was "barely passable" to attend their esteemed academy.

"Study, learn, become everything you want to be." Those were my mother's parting words. Mage Academy students lived in the tower, and weren't allowed to see their relatives often.

To become a mage a sharp mind is crucial, and it looked like I had a good one. Every single country needs mages, lots of them, so much so that they even allow a few commoners to study for free, as EVERYTHING is dependent in mana, and I somehow became one of those few. The Mage Tower was really far, and I didn't really want to attend it, but mother's encouragement and happiness when I was accepted changed that. Her smile made me take that step forward.

...

I didn't make any friends in the Tower, as nearly all of the students were nobles and looked down on me. And those few commoners who also attended became lackeys to specific nobles, the ones they were going to server after they leave the academy. I didn't care about that, I just wanted to study, learn, and understand how the world worked. I studied with all I had, if I succeeded I could help and support mother, the only family I had, everything else didn't matter. And the results were good, I was one of the top students in the academy.

Official magic aptitude tests are done twice, once at fifteen and again at eighteen. There is also an unofficial one done by nobles and academies at about twelve, when the magic skills just start to appear, but it's not taken as a serious magic capabilities assessment test. During the first test by the academy I failed to manifest mana. Some of the teachers thought that I was slacking and not making an effort, but the theoretical test results proved them wrong. Next, they thought that I had a minuscule amount of mana and was bad at manipulating inner mana. I also thought that, therefore I spent years taking great efforts to fix that, meditating and circulating mana.

The rare letters I was able to exchange with mother told me that life was hard, but everything was fine. She kept encouraging me to try harder, never give up, and results would come. Communication with the outside world was limited, and it was hard being constantly alone, but hope is a strange thing. I continued my efforts with my inner mana circulation and control with a madness-like obsession, which I had with everything I did.

A few were talking about expelling me for my lack of progress in mana related subjects, but my theoretical knowledge and top results in the tests, not concerning mana, gave me the option of becoming at least a researcher. Still, as everyone was already casting spells, I couldn't even manifest mana.

...

When I was fifteen, I failed again, not being able to manifest even a tiny bit of mana. The Grand Master was furious, and to do a small test he poured his mana into me to observe my inner state, the speed and amount of mana circulating inside of me. He was baffled and told me I had a "catastrophically large" amount of mana and "blade-like" control over it, but there were no gates, the internal mana was trapped in me.

There were a few who were quite interested in me after that, but some were more interested in my blood. They spoke about great magic and spells we could accomplish, but I could feel it in my bones that they saw me as nothing more than a pit of mana. I didn't want to be a mana stone in some random experiment. I needed to protect myself and for that I needed external mana.

Many, even professors, looked at me in disdain, as someone who was manaless, but they somehow tolerated my existence. The first few months after the official test, I started looking into everything to inner gates. I found something, a hint at least.

There was a legend about an ancient Wizard, or the Titan of Fire as they called him, he didn't have water or earth gates. It was written that because of that he has a stronger connection to the fire and air souls, so strong that he could transform into fire itself, that he became the voice of fire itself. Well, that's what was written after you ignore all the pathos, and the endless praise from the scriptures.

The most logical conclusion I came up with is that there must be some unknown or rare sub-group soul that I have a connection that I have a gate connection with. I spent quite some time looking into all of the possible ones, common, rare, respected, and disdained. Even the most disgraceful and dishonourable one. People have tons of affinities, big and small, I should have at least one.

I didn't.

The only thing I was able to accomplish through the research is that my inner mana was rejected by each group of the two pillars, every single one. But I found something interesting during that research, engineering and physics in enchantments and rituals. That was something I could do even without mana, something I could direct my mind at and if I worked for the academy as an enchanter or researcher I would be under their protection, with no fear for my life or safety.

Most of the important enchantments and ritual books weren't accessible, but the basic ones were. My skills and knowledge rapidly increased.

...

Sometime later I received a short letter from the bookstore owner living next door.

"Your mother died of Frost Vein disease, the house was sold to close her debts and pay for the funeral."

I died that day.

I laid in my bed crying for a week. I was never able to help her, show her the same love she gave me. What was I spending years here for? I was angry at the world, but more so at myself. It was so long since I saw her, and I couldn't even fully remember her face.

Only her voice.

"Everything will be okay sweetie."

"All events have a reason."

"Life always straightens things up son."

"We don't choose the tools, but we choose what we do with them."

So I did the only thing I could, I plunged myself into study. I would do the only thing she ever wanted, for me to succeed. An idea was born in my head and I spent all available time on it, barely sleeping or resting.

Right before the final aptitude test, I showed a design I made to the Grand Master of the Enchantment department, Professor Palonto, who I had a bit more friendly relationship, in hopes of getting a position as an enchantment researcher in the academy.

It was a design of a flying city, fueled and powered purely by residual mana, which was controlled by enchanted "blocks", whose methods of working was not public, but their existence was known. It would levitate powered by several combinations of gravitational magic and would be indestructible and unstoppable. I explained that this city could move around the world, across seas and oceans, through deserts and marshlands, or it could anchor itself to some location. And during that process it could gather ambient mana and change terrain and climate around the whole Earth to an optimise the location.

She called me crazy and rejected my idea as utterly ridiculous and impossible, she said that even the ancient Wizards of the Divine Era couldn't do it, and any attempts were useless wastes of time. When I asked if I can get a position on the research team she said that she thinks my non-standard thinking would be helpful to the academy.

I was happy, believing that I truly succeeded, for first time in my life I started thinking about the future, my future, who I can become, what I can become.

They say that one picture is worth a thousand words.

On the final affinity test when I was again found with absolutely no aptitude for any soul, it wasn't shocking, I kind of already accepted that I would never be able to cast a spell. But when I saw the smile Professor Palonto gave to the arcane Grand Master, which was especially interested in my blood, everything inside of me flipped, as if lightning hit me. The announcement of who would be taken into the research team would have been announced the next day, but I didn't wait for it.

That night, I ran away.

That smile brought clarity to my mind, it was always strange that Professor Palonto never taught anything to me, never gave me hints or direction on where to search the subject I was interested in, but was always friendly and tried to hold me close to herself. My fate had already been decided long before that, an animal fattened for slaughter. That also explained why they kept me around for so long, why they allowed my existence. All the Professors and Grand Masters, every single one of them, they knew.

It all explained why they tolerated my existence in the academy.

I didn't know where to run, or what to do. They would find me in the end, and no one would be able to protect me. Dying in a big ritual would be the best fate I could possibly get. Traveling to another continent could have been an option if the mage academy didn't have connections with everyone and everything, including ports and traveling caravans. But even for that I needed money, which I didn't have.

The only other option was that I needed the protection of someone or something. But what kind of protector could stand against the Mage Academy? Something that inflicts a bone chilling fear, something that even standing against would be pure suicide, something that would take in a no one like me. Standing in the middle of a swamp a few kilometers from the academy, only one idea came to mind. It was an idea to which death or suicide was a better option.

But I still wanted to live, even if it was just for a few more days.

...

The child continued to listen to the story of the woman, but at least the subject changed from Blood Brotherhood to unicorns and dragons. But then it suddenly hit me. Why is there only one child with this group?

Scanning through the group I started to analyse each one. Half a dozen vanguards and archers, obviously well trained ex-guards. Two really shady guys, trying to look normal, but for my trained eyes it's not hard to discern assassins and spies. An old man, who has been guiding along the path. a guide. A woman who has been caressing a child, which fell asleep a few moments ago, a nanny. A child, with perfectly symmetrical features. A noble, no, someone important. Royalty. They're all dressed in simple clothes without attributes, but you can't hide what you really are.

Funny thing.

The reason all nobles look very handsome and beautiful isn't just because that they take better care of themselves. When you're in power, you can choose the best spouses available on the "market". Which means even if you're ugly, stupid, and without any magic talent, you can choose the most beautiful wife with great magic talent, and you can do that for your children too. Which results in beautiful and talented grandchildren. But that's an example of only two generations, what about the royalty, nobles and powerful families which had dozens of generations to continue that process.

It doesn't matter how you started or how you gained power, even if it was the most despicable, dishonourable, pathetic or backstabbing way. In the end, time and power will wash everything away, leaving a fancy fairy tale created to glorify something that didn't even exist in the first place, but which would create a superiority complex for generations to come. And now you have someone, who even in their "hidden" state, can be recognised. Just because their parents were picky with who to have children with. But can you blame the child for that?

[Interesting, how would they react if they knew that you were the one who caused that hell in their city? You killed that child's parents, leaving him an orphan. And because of that all these people had to leave their homes and families in their time of need, and travel to who-knows-where to protect a single child, which isn't even theirs.]

[How do you feel? Should we tell them the truth and have some fun?]

Their dead eyes and tired eyes told me enough.

In a day or two we will reach Samolesh, there's no reason to create problems, and my body can't take take much right now. I just need to hold on for a bit longer.

...

I can see Samolesh, about four kilometers away, standing between two rocky hills, blocking the only path through them. A choke-point. But even from here you can see what's happening in the city, people running around trying to hide from what they believe is the wrath of the gods. The party and Olana are standing in awe as bubbles of fire exploded, appearing in trails through the city, followed by rare purple beams. Half of minute of absolute silence follows.

In the distance I can see a person in red clothes with a staff, who suddenly appeared at least three-hundred and fifty meters above the city. He may appear immobile, but I can see subtle motions of his staff, which end with raised and spread arms.

One of the party members wants to say something, but a flash of light interrupts him and fixes the gazes of everyone on the city. A new bubble of fire appeared in the center of the city, growing tremendously fast, and more destructive than all of the previous spells together. AS it continues growing and covers at least a third of the city. I can see the shock wave traveling in all directions with enormous speed, to which I responded accordingly and prepared to cover my eyes. Everyone else just stands looking at the event in awe. But a few fractions of a second before the shock wave hit, I saw a thin beam crossing the sky with colossal speed.

The shock wave hit us much softer and I expected, but the few yelps I heard told me that not many shared my opinion. When I removed my hand from eyes, the dust and rocks were already settling down, but the party members were grunting and trying to get sand and stone pieces out of their eyes. Oh come on. By the visible shock wave and the dust on the ground you should've expected that.

The city is half-melted with nearly no sound, except the hum after the explosion, the crumbling city, and the coughs of the party. Everyone looked in horror at the city. The clouds in the sky are split apart by a straight line which continues to widen in a perpendicular direction to where I saw the purple beam pass through. You can see the big rocks split apart, causing cracks in the same direction while dark smoke floats out of them.

"What the HELL was that?" Muttered Olana.

What are you talking about? This is what a Wizard battle looks like. You should be able to do something similar to even call yourself a Wizard.

Returning my sight back to the city I catch sight of two falling objects. Trying to focus on one of the objects I quickly find out what it is, or at least who it was. It looks like the purple beam found its target. Well, one of the Wizards is dead. If the other one didn't survive the explosion and heat, we have two dead Wizards and a city, nearly erased from the face of the Earth.

[Isn't it nice when an issue between two people causes the death of thousands? Nothing that we could possibly know, right?]

While the party is in a stupor I start walking back to the horses, it looks like I won't be able to get a decent rest in this city. And the travel should continue, whatever happens. Who knows if anyone survived, and standing her won't solve anything. While I ride towards the half-destroyed city I rethink my feelings about the situation. There must be something wrong with me, thousands died, but I just don't really care.

Is it because of who the residents were? No.

Did they deserve that fate? No.

Then why?

It's said that empathy is the core of being an advanced species, a ticket that proves that the species reached a point where they can be considered a high social structure. What does it say about me if I lost one of those core properties?

[What's wrong? You should be happy, you will see a few more sunsets than them. You were a tiny bit more lucky than the residents of the city.]

I should be happy because they died and I didn't?

[That;s the way people work. They don't look at the grand scheme. People get happy because they have a single piece of bread more than their neighbours, even if they live in total poverty.]

[And we're all simple people, aren't we?]