Chapter 5

Hunting

There is a place, about four dozen kilometers west from here, that suit all the condition for a wyvern nest: a high peak nearing the ocean surrounded by a wide variety of hunting grounds.

I may despise them now, but it first started as fear. I was not always a coward, in my early years, I was a reckless child who would sneak out to see the world, experiment… or whatever struck my fancy.

Now that I think about it, even back then, I might have been looking for recognition… whatever the case, it stopped the day I was attacked by a solitary wyvern.

I had taken some precautions, so I was never in any real danger but… the sight of the massive beast hammering my barriers with spells and claws left a mark that changed me forever.

Later in life, maybe to dispel my fear or to prove myself I had gotten over everything, I volunteered for every hunting mission. It did not work as intended though; I was not afraid of them anymore, but I was still the same as prudent and faint-hearted as ever.

Wyverns, like many other magical beasts, are driven by hunger – you will almost always find them either eating or digesting – but they are more powerful and cunning and if it were not for the usefulness of their hides and bones, my kind would have never tolerated their existence.

I know I would not.

Even now, I cannot help but have mixed feelings. On one hand, they are a precious source of material – most notably the magic organs – but on the other, I would love if they had gone extinct.

I put an end to my pointless reflections to observe the site from afar and… “That is troublesome.”

That might be the understatement of the year. Not content with surviving the beasts flourished. I do not think I have never heard of such a large community: there are already over three dozen individuals and I am still counting.

I cannot call this a hunt anymore, it will require finesse and discretion. 

I will attack tonight when most of them are sleeping. If I am fast enough, I should be able to make away with the remains of a sentry before the others find out.

I hope so. I am getting the feeling that my concealment spells have not been up to par lately.

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While I wait for the night to come, I get a sudden revelation: could it be the Krok detected me because I am undead?

This, in turn, makes me realize something: I do not know any Words of Power related to Undeath! This should have been obvious from the get-go, so why did I not think of it until now?!

Since the language is derived from the Words, it should be possible to take it the other way to find the missing words… but it does not work… as though the complete lexicon of Undeath is just made-up words.

As I ponder on this, more inconsistencies pile up.

“Recording!”

For a species supposedly dedicated to the knowledge of magic, why did we not put more emphasis on Word research?

I remember being taught we knew all there was to know and I never once thought about disputing that fact but in retrospect, it makes little sense: the units of time alone make up for thousands of Words and I am quite sure there are many more yet to be discovered.

Truthfully, no one needs this many: a single one combined with some multiplier will do the trick, but it goes to show the complexity and profoundness of the matter.

As for the dictionary completion, I have disproved that a moment ago.

It might have been a measure to prevent the practice of necromancy but how did they stop me… us from thinking about it?

“Stop recording!”

Whatever the case, there is no one left to answer my question. The truth probably exists somewhere in the vault, but as always I will not know until I can access it.

I cast the usual spell, and try a new one I call conceal Sha. I do not know if it will work as intended, but that is the only characteristic of the undead I know.

Invisible or not, I take care of moving slowly and carefully, always on the lookout for signs of life and magic and before long I find a sentry.

I extend my zone of silence, and without giving it the time to react I shoot a lightning bolt quickly followed by a gravity and stone hammer. Individually, none of these one or two words spell could hurt the creature, but cast in quick succession, they make for a deadly combination capable of fracturing a wyvern skull.

As I step forward the claim my prize, I sense a… no multiple gatherings of mana.

I erect a single word barrier only to see it breaks an instant later under a flurry of mana projectiles.

Of the four attacks, only the last one goes through. My personal protection is strong, so a few Chi bolts are not a threat… but they were only the first of many.

I hurriedly put a series of quick barriers, it should give me enough time to prepare for the real deal. 

One barrier down and two new enemies join the rank… two down… three down… another four wyverns join in… four… five… and done!

The next all Chi bolts disperse harmlessly and it only takes an instant for the great beast to realize that their attacks do not work and to change tactics. 

Firebolts, Ice bolts, Lightning bolts, Sha bolts, and even stones projectile are added to the mix. Wyverns are cunning, but such coordination is abnormal… unless they have a leader, in which case, let us just hope it is not a lesser dragon.

I do not have to think about what if: my second barrier is only meant to disrupt mana and they are bound to take notice.

The casting of a physical barrier only takes seconds, but each of them feels like an eternity.

Finally, I exult. “Too late brutes, my defense is flawless!”

It has not been two minutes since the start of the fight, but I might as well be blind - which I technically am - between my barriers and the Chi saturating the atmosphere both my mana sense and life vision are useless. To remedy this, I cast clairvoyance.

I might not be as safe as I initially thought: there are even more wyvern are coming and they are getting bigger and bigger… some of them might even be a match for lesser dragons. 

“To fight or to flee?”

There is no way I can fit my prey into my barrier.

Should I come back later?

Now that they know of me, they will not let their guard down for a long time… and at any rate, they seem really intent on crushing me with numbers. 

“Well, if it is a fight you want, a fight you will get!”

I prepare a lightning storm and create an opening in my barrier just long enough to cast it. 

They did not that one coming, I cannot attack through, but I can reshape them! 

In a matter of minutes, giant clouds obscure the sky and thunderbolts as wide as men rain indiscriminately upon the field.

Chaos ensues and I use the confusion to conjure three powerful golems to protect me as well as four lightning elementals to attack.

Now supported by my construct, I turn my attention to the largest enemy.

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How long has it been? How many did I kill?

Three dozens? Maybe four if I count the one incapacitated.

There is no end to them, whenever I feel I am about to win, even more reinforcement join in, and each time they get more powerful.

If I were not I undead, I would have reached my limit a long time ago. Sometimes I feel like there are only benefits to being an undead… but at other times I wonder what it will cost me down the line.

Also, just because I am sleepless and tireless, that does not mean I am immune to boredom and exasperation!

I cannot get it anymore, it needs to stop! I forego all reason and conjure even more elementals.

As for me, I take the sky. Wyverns are not good flyers: without gravity magic, they would be too heavy to glide but I can go as fast as I want and make ridiculous turnabouts: a fossilized skeleton does not have squishy parts to worry about.

Unable to follow my lead, the wyverns quickly abandon pursuit to confront the elementals attacking them from behind which finally leaves me free to find the true leader of this horde.

Sitting on the peak of the mountain, the ridiculously massive beast cry in defiance to my challenge. As big if not bigger than an adult lesser dragon, its power is no less impressive.

Ancient wyvern did not exist in the past, I thought them creatures of literature.

I scoff, “You have done well to reach such an advanced age, foul beast... let us put a stop to that!” Then rain Sha bolts and lightning bolts at the abhorrent creature with reckless abandon!

You may be strong, but I am stronger: I have probably reached a domain beyond that of the living – no pun intended.

“I WILL SURVIVE! YOU ALL DIE!”

The scream put an end to my exultation. Never before did I hear the ‘voices’ in an unpopulated area. But all mean, it must have been the wyvern death scream, but I cannot be certain: I was out of my mind.

I stand over the corpse silently, waiting for the ‘voices’ to manifest themselves again but nothing else happens: I am still in control.

Deprived of their leader, hopelessness overwhelms the specimens down the mountain and those who still can flee in whatever way they are capable.

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The battle was mentally exhausting, but it did not impact me as much as the resurgence of the ‘voice’ at the end. 

I look at the mountain of corpses strewn over the mountain.

No way I am taking care of them all: constructs exist for a purpose.

I summon a number of lesser golems and tell them to gather the carcasses. If possible, I would also like to leave the dismantling to them, but they will need tools and I only have the one knife I made yesterday.

Obsidian? I dismiss the constructs, then make a round trip across the volcano and the city to gather obsidian and rock salt.

As soon as I come back, I conjure more golems, and leave the sharpening and dismantling to them.

Here, I would like to emphasize that I am not lazing around, quite the contrary. I do what only I can do: open holes in the ground, fill them with conjured water, and make round trips to gather more salt for the brining holes.

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My current self may be beyond nausea, but it does not make the sight of flesh, guts and meat as far as the eye can see is any less nightmarish. 

To my side, hides, bones, sinew and magic organs are cleaned and organized in neat piles.

Under normal circumstances, the tanning process would take weeks, but I just got my hands on a number of quality magic organs and I intend to make good use of them. Although, even if I can bring down the time needed per roll to a few days each, it will still take months to proceed this quantity.

I do not mean me. I have no intention of taking any part in the process beyond making the initial creation of magic tools and greater golems.

It still leaves a massive amount of flesh. Wyvern flesh is not that bad – it is surprisingly palatable for a predator – so it would be a waste to leave it to rot.

My first thought is to take it with me as a gift for the metropolis, but this goes against the discrete approach I had in mind.

The next one is for the Imps: brined wyvern jerky can last for months and the little ones sure need more meat in their diets.

I make a few more brining holes while pondering what to do with resources. 

Between the golems and magic tools, I have already used about one third the magic organs, using any more would be wasteful… but my recording device is reaching its limit and I never felt safe knowing it was made of salt.

As for the rest, now that I have some greater golems it should not be so hard to open more rooms for storage.

All that is left, is record the events of the day before I forget.

“Recording!”

I have made a few interesting discoveries today.

Firstly, things were a bit hectic, but I am sure ended up maintaining over a dozen spells at the same time! Even though it has been less than a day since then, the events already feel like a dream. They are not though, it really happened.

Secondly, the ‘voices’ manifested again; this time rather than ‘voices’ it was more akin to a scream or burst of survival instinct but the feeling was the same.

Finally, and more importantly, the more time I spend outside, the more my past appear stupid and unnatural. Back then, we all chose to die with the city, we could have easily saved ourselves. I know my species was never strongly attached to life - not even to the continuation of our species - but we had our pride. 

Now that I am leaving outside, I cannot even remember what we were so afraid of. Was it change? The unknown?

What kind of scholars fears the unknown? There are just so many things to learn outside, so many people to meet and so many things to do…

Is it not strange that despite being dead, I am having the time of my life?

“Stop recording!“

As I go about making a new recording tool and transferring the content, another oddity strikes me: how did we come about creating the Children? I remember being taught the process, but it was strangely theoretical compared to the rest

It is only speculation, but I feel there is a connection. Like in the way my skeleton and the Children’s artificial bodies are animated. 

As usual, the answers are probably in the vault… Oh, well, no point thinking about what is out of my reach, I would better concentrate on the task at hand: the design of my new suit!