“The Varai, the flesh changers of Varia. These folks are among the greatest, nay I daresay the only greatest example of radical mages that changed their flesh. What became of them? We do not know, as the last instance of them contacting the outside world was when they spoke about a Collective. A Silent Collective. After that, even us of our own homeland could no longer find them, save for abandoned buildings and hastily burned scripts.”

- Monk Janterik of Varia

Magic, an art that is capable of transcending the mortal boundaries set foot by reality. It is a phenomena borne from the minds of ancient sages of old, learned from the beings known simply as the Primeval Ancients. Horned entities that came to the world naturally, birthed by the miasmic Malvirek, the forests of ancient beasts. From them the sages had gained insight on the manipulation of an energy that their world produced, an energy that wrapped around everything in varying concentration.

Mana. The life-blood of a thousand creatures, physical and immaterial alike, one that burrows deep within the bodies of all it could. Forming artificial veins within those it could latch upon, allowing them or others to tap in and harness the energy within for grand purposes. This took the form of sapient trees forming, living rocks singing out with their songs of earthen peace, to fragments of dreams and nightmares alike coalescing into a realm of its own.

Mana was this powerful, as it was the catalyst that allowed many entities to exist in Jasolem. And yet despite this, only certain creatures were born with the ability to wield mana naturally. Some creatures needed another way of wielding mana, in the case of most races, it was through magic. The manipulation of mana around them and within their mana-veins to force outcomes on the world.

But the difference was little, as both are used to cause an effect upon the world. But for those that could naturally use mana, they only needed instinct to form them into other things to aid them. Like a Dragon would use the crystallized mana core that is connected to its mana-veins to fuel its notorious breath attack. Or how a Faeiry of the Faes would subconsciously use mana to allow it to hover, and change shapes or sizes depending on their mood.

Though for races that could not wield mana naturally or as efficiently, Magic was the key to replicating an effect that is similar. This was a more systematic way compared to the ‘quick’ and ‘sudden’ way of mana-manipulation the former gave. It was given to the rest of the world by the aforementioned sages, that had asked aid from the Primeval Ancients.

The Primeval Ancients did not give the knowledge of their own magic as they felt that it was theirs, and should not be shared to those not of their ilk. Instead they gave the insights on how to create something similar. From that the first variations of magic came to be, Incantations, Rune, then Enhancement. Those three became the pillars for the magical arts among the majority of sapient races.

Incantation was the recitation of spells to elicit a power from something. Either through ancient words of power, crafted by the sages or innovative mages, or contracts and deals with various beings. This pillar encompassed a staggering amount of magical arts, with it also being among the pillars that saved much on mana but dealt with more violent spells. To name a few, spells such as Malign Casting that caused damaging or restrictive effects are classified under Incantations, whether or not they are casted through voice or mind.

The most powerful examples of these are ‘Songs’, casted by the Choir of the Ancients or the various religious individuals of gods. These spells are casted through song, with each verse giving power to the spell and yet also costing more mana. But it made up for it with the fact that the more that sang, the stronger the spell could become.

Rune, or Runic spells were more akin to a language signed through fingers, or written down on any sort of material. Unlike Incantation, Runic spells focused on Runes. Magically charged letters that have been either blessed by a God or by a multitude of ancestors for millennia. This compared to all of the primary pillars, took the most time for most races. As they had to form ‘magical circles’ by constantly feeding mana to it, whilst writing down runes that required to be maintained too. But compared to the others, this was a pillar that was essential as it allowed a way to manage or even increase the power of spells.

Most commonly runic magical circles have circles, the more circles or ‘layers’ there is to a runic circle the powerful and complex it is. As these circles are not simply circles with random runes jotted upon them, one must actually create or write down a tale of sorts that matches what they desire. If one wished a runic circle that would constantly raise a specific undead, then they must write a three-layered circle that spoke of the undead.

Dictating at how unwilling it was to die, and that it would rise as long as there was power within the veins of the caster and the runic circle. This power also was used in other pillars, and even in crafting and enchantment.

The final pillar was that of Enhancement. The most simplest yet dangerous among all the primary pillars. As its purpose deviated widely from the others, with it being used to emulate the way creatures used mana naturally. It enhanced the individual that used it, and even their armor or weapons, quite similar to the art of enchantment. And yet it was risky and hard to use, for it required a constant stream of mana to be supplied to the enhancement alongside extreme control.

But the benefits was staggering, for both individuals that prefer either melee or pure magic, Enhancement offered a way to double their capabilities. From raising how much mana they could store, to even how hard their armor is. It was a grand thing, but it also had a steep price as its practitioners were the most commonly afflicted by mana-burn.

But despite that, magic was not widely used by everyone. As with the knowledge the Primeval Ancients bestowed, they also discovered the hardship in using magic. For not all are gifted in using magic, and for one to actually learn how to use magic, they must learn how to find the flow of their mana. With the task of finding the flow, they must also learn how to gather mana into them.

This however opened up a myriad of problems, such as how to gather mana into them and to refine it so that their bodies may actually handle it. Surprisingly gathering mana was simple, as it was simply easily achieved through mediation and the manipulation of the mana within you and outside you to gather into your veins. But the problem on how to refine mana so that their bodies may actually survive it, was never solved. Instead they found that different places of the world had different concentrations of mana within them.

It went from raw to diluted, with raw being the most pure yet the most deadliest to mages and warriors. Whilst the diluted was the safest to gather for individuals. They too then found a way to keep their bodies from gathering mana, which was in a way erecting a small aura around themselves. This was useful when venturing in places rich with raw mana, and it allowed them to absorb a sort of lukewarm mana when doing so.

It was mana neither too raw, nor too diluted . Just perfect enough to allow one to advance in their craft, but also risking them into believing they could absorb mana, thinking that their bodies had become strong enough for more.

This leads to an event called ‘Mana-burn’, where the mana of the individual’s mana-veins or body is too much for them to handle. Normally it is not deadly, as most only absorb a bit more than their usual mana-capacity could allow. But for those that are foolish enough to gather more, they would find themselves quite literally having their veins explode from within. Either killing them, or crippling their capability to even wield mana and magic.

…

“How come I only feel pain from this?”

Benedict asked as he stood up, his bare feet thudding on the wooden floor as Salia finished her brief explanation. What she said after he had found a way to empty his body from mana, surprised him. What she essentially said had shed light on the nature of this world. Most of all showing how much of an aberrant he truly was, with the fact that his body was constantly siphoning off the raw mana of this place.

“How come that I am not dead? How come am I changing into this damned monster?”

He hissed his words as he straightened his posture, the feeling of irritation reaching his mind alongside that of hunger. His scything-blades would hit the floor as he would slowly begin to walk outside, with Salia following close behind with a troubled expression.

“You’re not a monster Benedict, you are simply something different. Something new to this world. Mana reacts differently to the will of those that manipulate it, as history has shown my people that emotions, beliefs and even dogma can create something unexpected.

I will not assume or speculate, as I am not knowledgeable enough on this subject compared to the High Weaver. But whatever you are becoming, it is not without reason. But your pain, it most likely due to how your body is changing so.. Rapidly. That and the mana-burn that is obviously making it much more intense.”

Idly Benedict snarled as he neared the open door, the smell of fresh air and that of something sweet wafted into his nose. He found this particularly strange as he didn’t have any sort of excellent sense of smell, but there he was being drawn towards it. Salia who followed close behind had a gentle smile to her face as he looked towards him, as if they had met a long time ago. Akin to that of being childhood friends.

“Something new? Yes that’s true, but that doesn’t mean what I am now will be accepted by everyone I will meet. I won’t have any sort of normality because of these two scything-claws.. Or blades. I don’t even know how will my friends react to this..”

Despite what he said, it was clear that he truly didn’t mind these new changes. As Salia could feel a sort of strange feral acceptance to it, one she felt through his words. As his voices chanted it out with clear emotion, one that she found to be domineering. But at the mention of his friends, a clear indication of longing and fear was tangible only for a few seconds.

This made her smile even more as she found it a sign that he wasn’t truly just a ball of anger. As nearly three hours ago he was constantly complaining about his situation, even to the point that it was hard to identify whether or not he simply disliked or hated magic and mana. Though despite that he had manage to learn how to vent out the mana within his veins, reducing the chances that he would die from the mana-burn that was ravaging his body.

“Certainly your friends will accept you. I assume that they are nobles like you? If so, as learned individuals they will not be quick to judge. I remember that you people of the northern clans, or of the Ivory Union’s Concord are particularly honorable.”

At the mention of honor there was a visible glint of amusement crossing Benedict’s face, one that indicated he didn’t quite agree to what she said. To him what she assumed was far off from the truth, but in a sense it was true. As under the context of this fantasy world, they were indeed nobility and were learned men. Taught in a variety of subjects and beliefs in the school they attended, it was the same for the other summoned.

“Perhaps..”

The thought of his friends not accepting him for what he has become, was amusing but not unlikely. But as he would think deeper on the matter, he had crossed the room already and was greeted by an unexpected sight. With it taking his breath away moments after he had crossed the door frame and into the outside, as what he saw was baffling.

“Oh.”

That was what he could only say next as he stood at the edge of a platform that was connected to two stairs to his sides, with one going up whilst the other went down. From the platform he would be able to look around, seeing the colossal trees dotting the area to be leveled with him, allowing him to realize that the structure he was on, was built on one of the large trees.

This was made more obvious when he looked up, finding that the height he was in allowed the rays of the sun to illuminate the area he was in. Making it so that there was little to no signs of those luminescent plants he had seen, instead there was structures of stones and wood built into or around the tree he was standing upon. The thick branches connected to other areas, acting out as natural roads alongside intricate stone bridges that teemed with life.

Hundreds of beings like Salia walked on these roads and bridges, wearing a surprisingly varied series of clothing similar to what he saw initially. A small majority of those individuals wore armor, and seemed to be doing patrols from what he could see.

The other large trees held a similar scene, being used as structures themselves and being a hive of activity. Most held a peculiar set of individuals, as if there was a clear purpose for each one of them. With the already gigantic trees having these structures, it would come as no surprise when Benedict looked down to discover more buildings below.

But what caught his attention was something to his right, in the form of an equally colossal statue that depicted one of the Ancients. This was one looked weathered and old, but it stood mightily next to the trees as it held its hands out. There was a strange feel to it, as it had actual buildings built on or within it, with there being towers fashioned from its horns.

It was a truly grand sight, one that made him question how they could have made such a thing. When it was clear that this area was a forest for a long time. But with this land being fantasy-like it wasn't that surprising.

There were other statues too that dotted the place he could see, being individually different in gender and attire. Some even looking as if they were recent, with little to no sign of age at all. This alone made him realize how strangely aesthetic the Ancients were.

Their structures was perfectly integrated with the surroundings, mixing with the titanic nature of the trees with their statues being a clear reminder of that. It made him feel truly small. From this sight alone, he would assume that the Ancients perhaps numbered in the hundred thousands, being among the numerous of races in this world.

All over the buildings, even the statues themselves he could see the script of their language. The letters glowing in obvious power as he slowly began to hear an idle buzz at the background. He paid no attention to it as he looked around like an excited child, his mouth opened as a look of awe was creeping its way on his face. Salia who stood behind him would walk to his side and find his expression to be amusing.

“Is it that a great sight to you? I suppose living in the frigid north would have not prepared you for this.But I heard from the Elder that you have alabaster walls and towering structures that rise beautifully up high, with the aurora that occurs in the night that drapes the land in somber light.”

“What’s this place?”

Ignoring her question he asked one of his own, his eyes darting out to find more features in his surroundings. A scant few seconds later he would find it in the form of rapidly advancing figures, eerily similar to how the Forlorn looked but strangely glitch-like. As if their physical form was in two places at the same time, they however looked quite literally akin to armors possessed by a spirit.

They ran across both the large branches and stone bridges, with all other ancients ignoring their rapid steps as they lugged around axes and kite shields. With each step they took, he could feel a rising tingle on his skin. One that was similar to goosebumps but different enough that it felt disturbing.

“Malvirek as the Elder has said, or the Forest of Ancients as I have said so many times. This specific area however, is Malvirek, one of the enclaves of my people. The largest and the one that houses all subjects of each Lord. Including that of the Forlorn, even when he has been undead for centuries.

You as the chosen successor of the Forlorn is.. Technically a Lord though not yet a true one, until the other Lords come to a consensus regarding you. But for the subjects of the Forlorn, you are already their Lord.”

A brow would be raised at what Salia said, almost prompting Benedict to turn towards her. But his eyes were inexplicably glued to the rushing figures he saw, their strides being purposeful and fluid, but with a hint of a mechanical step to it. Reminding him of how the various automata or golems had been portrayed in the things he had seen.

“What are they? What are they called?”

Slowly he could feel his heartbeat as he realized they were actually heading to the level they stood on, with the pace of the armors becoming increasingly erratic as they began to deviate into singular parties, hunting something without the aid of the other. With this observation the beating of his heat would mix with the idle buzzing he had disregarded.

“Seekers, they were once human like the Forlorn. I remember them being his shield-brothers, a part of tradition where they are oath-bound to him like how the dwarven warriors are to their masters…”

Without him realizing it, Salia’s voice slowly had gone quiet, replaced by the beating of his heart and the noise around him. It was quickly succeeded by the intense intrusion of something into his mind, letting him feel a cascade of emotions and desires.

It disoriented him to feel such things, as he realized it was heavily similar to his own. Except it came from two sources, with it slowly becoming more obvious being the two creatures he had named in his dream. He had known this with ease as the emotions and desires conveyed it truly. As they were primal and unrefined, wholly reliant on the weight of the particular feeling they sent to his mind.

With it came visions of what those two creatures saw, further confirming that what he felt truly came from beings aside from him. Through their eyes he saw the dark forest that he had ran in, the scenery being wholly familiar with minor deviations. Such deviations took the form of dozens of bodies haphazardly scattered around what seems to be a clutch of ten eggs. Eggs which were organic and translucent, allowing one to see the things within through the pink water that it also held.

Like some twisted replication of what may the inside of a human womb would look like, alongside the life that floated within, the eggs showed something similar. Though their size was evidently particularly large, enough to contain the fully grown creatures within with them hugging their own knees.

From the perspective he was shown, one of the Aberrations that he saw through was right in front of the eggs. And through the vision given by this particular Aberration, he could see the qualities of the entities within the eggs. They all contained what can only be described as pallid humans without obvious reproductive organs, or even hair. They all looked like identical males but lacking a mouth, whilst having strange natural armor of bone covering their arms, ending in sharp points in their nuckles.

Like before where he named the Venator and Gadator, Benedict would feel the need to give these things a name. Instantly he would give them the title ‘Teuton’, based from the Teutonic Order. As their uniform looked reminded him of them, without the armor and crosses.

Then he would feel a prodding at his mind, a sort of mental questioning to him. It was instinctively translated by his changing mind as a question, a desire to know what to do next. He was taken aback by this, not expecting this kind of situation at all. It was made much worse when the vision quickly faded, with his mind feeling as if it was thrown back into his skull.

This forceful end to the vision would quickly escalate to something more when his eyes returned focus back to Malvirek itself. There he would feel something tug at his leg, before the sudden lost of balance would hit him as he would inevitably fall off the edge of the platform he stood on.

“What-”

He could only mutter that as he would turn his head to look behind him, only to see that Salia was no longer there. Instantly for a brief moment he would feel surprised and shocked, before the feeling of falling through the air would pull his attention to something holding on his leg.

“SUCCESSOR!”

A disembodied voice boomed out as it came from one of the armors he observed just minutes ago. Being so close to it he would be able to see black mist inhabit the equipment that acted as a living body, with no signs of glowing eyes, simply blackness. Right there the buzzing would return with more intensity, and for some reason he could not grasp he felt the need to do battle.

But resisting the urge to just simply slam his scything-blades into the possessed armor, he would look behind him and notice that their descent made it so that they were still relatively near the tree he once stood upon. With instincts not truly his own he would attempt to lash out with his blades, intent at attempting to embed them into the bark of the tree.

With his scything-claws not simply bound to a set amount of movements, they would reveal to be adept tools at being true limbs other than that of claws. As instinct drove him to use them as a sort of way to anchor himself on the tree, to save himself.

This sudden reaction of self-preservation would seemingly be successful as a clear crunch would be heard, alongside the sudden slow halt of their fall. His weight alongside that of the animate armor would make him groan in pain, as his scything-claws tore through several layers on the way to stopping themselves from falling further.

Showing its inhuman nature, his scything-claws despite being connected to what seems to be bones, showed their durability with Benedict only feeling discomfort and pain from it. He felt shock turn to irritation, then slowly into anger. This sparked the burning sensation within his veins again, and it would force him to begin kicking at the animated armor that held his leg.

“Let go you construct!”

But with it lacking any biological parts to even feel, it would hold on tightly as the mist within its helm slowly leaked out. It was an eerie sight, one that would force Benedict to keep kicking at its helm with his bare foot. This only brought pain to himself as the black mist began to cover the entirety of the armor, similar to an aura.

“PROVE YOURSELF!”

It yelled before the feeling of mana thickening around him made itself obvious, quickly made foreboding when the area around both of them turned completely silent.

“Just let go damn it!”

Growling his words, the mist that covered the armor would creep up to his legs before the unmistakable sensation of magic being invoked would hit him like a flood. It manifested without any runes, and quickly taking effect in the way of both of them being pulled forcefully.

It was like the time he was pulled into this world, but this time he did not blackout. Only feeling that his scything-blades were dislodged from where they were embedded, followed by a brief darkness overtaking his vision.

Weightlessness would be what both would feel for a moment, as the gauntlet that helf his leg would only tighten its grip. Much to his shock the feeling of weightlessness was only made worse when he felt wind hit his body, indicating that he was actually being dragged in the air towards another location. Only ended when he was slammed to solid ground, causing the sound of rocks cracking under the power of the force with Benedict howling in pain.

In an instant the darkness that took his vision faded, with the grip on his leg quickly letting go. All around him was dozens of the animated armor, the possessed things seemingly staring at him as wherever they were looked like some ceremonial battle ground.

“Battle us successor!”

They demanded with feverish zeal in their voice, for Benedict who was disoriented from the pain and sudden impact could only groan in disdain. But for some reason he felt suddenly angry, as Salia popped up in his mind. Where was she? Is she safe? Or had she betrayed him?

Despite not being unable to feel anything negative towards her hours ago, now he could feel anger at what he assumed to be a betrayal. But it was nothing compared to his worry for her, even though they had met only recently.

“Stand and fight!”

They urged now, with the sound of metal boots slamming down on the rocky floor he laid upon. Forcing himself to stand, his scything-claws would help him in finding balance as he felt his body go numb. With the urge to rip apart the armored beings in front of him.

“I did nothing to you!”

He exclaimed as he pointed at one of them accusingly, though it was only to buy him some time as he tried to find out where he was. Surprisingly it didn’t take long for him to find out where he stood. As the rocky ground he was on, was actually the palm of one of the gigantic statues he saw.

“Centerious has chosen you! You are the Sucessor! Stand and fight, rage forth like a fire!”

Urging him one of them stepped up, motioning towards the surrounding to something only they can see.

“Show us the rage that convinced Centerious to let go!”

Shooting them a look of confusion and annoyance, Benedict would enter a sort of combat stance as it was obvious that he wouldn’t get out of this unscatched. But he doubted his chances at winning, for he was only wearing clothing and the only weapons he had was his scything-claws, with defenses that was easily torn through by the axes the constructs held.

-

Their progenitor was under attack, his consort lost to his eyes as an armor dragged him away, they learned this through their link. The Aberrations had slowly tapped into their link to the progenitor of theirs, finding a wealth of information for their primal minds. But as beings born simply from the will of the Despot, they in some ghost of respect only searched for specific memories.

This was due to the undeniable independence they had, as their leader seemingly did not give them orders. As an effect they sought to find out a way to please the progenitor, as he himself dealt with the control of his body. Their nature as a new race of Hive-Minded entities was quite similar to ants.

Which from what they had learned, had a specific set of roles for their kind. But they were not ants, they were Aberrations. Beings that could be equated to a budding disaster, ones that were little more than locusts. This they knew as despite their recent existence, they displayed a startling ability to learn.

This was brought about by a single problem they faced. Their numbers were about to rise, and the two existing Aberrations desperately sought out guidance to follow. They naturally turned to their progenitor, but he was busy learning and spending time with his consort, now made further unavailable when their link was halted due to an unprecedented attack.

This made them explore their link in the first place, allowing them to be more than simplistic monsters. As they found that their master deeply believed in a concept of honor, one inspired by some sort of military group or empire from his old world.

They couldn't properly comprehend what it was, but they knew their master held them in awe. In the memories they immersed themselves in, they found many more concepts that their master believed in. And for them, they sought to exemplify what they saw.

As with the knowledge of what mana and magic was, they had the realisation that they were incapable of either. Their bodies being more akin to ones that devour and see mana. And as such, they slowly based themselves on the concepts they saw.

It was one of unity, honor, bloodshed and power above all else. A twisted mix of the contradictory beliefs their progenitor held.With that, the problem they had faced was replaced with determination. One that shouldn't truly be found on a race that has unnaturally existed.

The Venator was the first to draw his mind back into reality, letting nearly all of his attention to the present. The journey through the mind of their progenitor was a fulfilling experience for it, as it's mind was broaden out to more possibilities. Possibilities that wasn't simply the desire to feast.

It craned its head to the side, letting its eyes gaze around the area they were in. Which was the same place they were born in, but changed due to the number of unconscious animals scattered around them. With the once whole body of the Raemir being placed at the center, topped with ten large eggs that contained another variation of their race.

‘Teuton’, that was what the progenitor named them. To the existing Aberrations, beings that could be said to be the two unique Aberrations to exist as of now, these Teutons were quite literally plain to them. Or in another way much more stable than them, as they had been given ample time to actually grow unlike the two. But the lacking mouth could not be explained as of now, and their uncanny resemblance to one another implied they were to be used a mass produced creatures.

The Gadator at this point would draw his mind back too, opting to instead walk towards one of the eggs. Compared to its brother, the Gadator was particularly more intelligent, making it stare at the inert Teutons with clear hints of impatience. As his hands would go to grasp the side of one of the eggs and shaking it briefly, without even causing any sort of reaction to the Teuton within.

For the Gadator this was distasteful as their progenitor was under attack. It was natural for them to search for him, to aid him in his time of need. As this desire was natural to them, but given their intelligence this was a stupid thing to do. As they were outnumbered three to one, with the Teutons not even awake yet.

The frustration that this brought would cause the Aberration to growl, with it approaching a tree and suddenly scaling it to sit upon its branch. The Venator at this sight would let out a throaty laugh as it would instead go to arrange the bodies that was scattered around their territory, piling them based on size rather than race.