As Payten walked down the forest trail towards Leeside he started to study his master. He had to admit he was growing fond of the man, feeling a disconnect between Hark as his soft-spoken teacher and the wicked magic he practiced. Payten felt conflicted; he had no idea what he should do. He could go along with Hark and become a practitioner of the dark arts, forsaking every moral value instilled in him. Maybe he could run off into the woods when Hark slept. But then where would he go, even if he avoided starving to death, he was an orphan with no talents except those that would get him burned by witch hunters. Did he even want to leave Hark and return to being a bullied weakling? Payten’s jaw clenched, he would rather die than let anyone abuse him again.

Maybe Hark was the right choice.

***

“Lad, tonight will be your first real lesson in spell casting,” Hark said casually as he sat on a stump whittling a long branch. Payten felt a rush of excitement enter his body, finally, he would become a real mage.

Hark continued his whittling as he spoke, Payten was sat cross-legged eagerly absorbing his instruction

“Lad, sorcery is cast one of four ways, unstructured, spells, rituals, and enchantment. All are unique in their strengths and weaknesses. First, Unstructured magic is the use of mana without a framework to guide you. Spells are the formation of mana with a structure such as gestures, incantations, or materials. Rituals are an advanced form of spell, requiring extensive preparation and resources. Enchantments are different, simply put they are applying magic to objects”

“You mentioned strengths and weaknesses?” Payten asked struggling to write down Hark’s words

“Aye lad, unstructured magic is by far the quickest, making it the most reliable in combat. Spells are slower but more powerful and versatile, rituals are slow and methodical but produce the strongest effects and enchantments require materials and skill but can produce magic items and constructs. The core three; unstructured, spells, and rituals also represent the life cycle of new magic. It begins as a ritual that can be refined down to a spell and through much repetition and study can be recreated with unstructured magic. For your lesson, we will start with the basis of all sorcery, the conversion of mana.”

***

Payten sat eyes closed in concentration, his task was simple, take a portion of the inferno of raw mana that burned in his source and convert it into Vitus. Then picture a barrier that separates life mana from potentia, so he could safely store it. He visualized siphoning a portion of his mana into a condensed orb, If he lost focus for even a moment the orb would start to disperse, spreading out like fire over a dry savannah. He did not know how long he had to concentrate on the ball of energy but soon he found he was able to move his mind away from the orb without it vanishing. Allowing himself a small sense of accomplishment he began the next part of Hark’s instruction. As he held the sphere in his mind’s eye he thought of what he learned from studying the mana of life, his mind started to fill with thoughts of growth, decay, the cycle of life once again threatened to dominate his mind. Payten gritted his teeth ``I can't lose control again” With his resolve sharpened he pictured the orb becoming part of the cycle, joining with life itself. The orb began to shrink and become a pale whitish-green. After a few moments of concentration the ball of energy had completely changed colour and was a twentieth of its original size resembling a pearl made of mucus. Next, he visualized walls of solid darkness rising around the Vitus, partitioning it from the rest of his source.

“I did it” Payten declared as he opened his eyes a large grin splitting his face,

“Good job lad, starting now you will practice conversion every night. Focusing on speed and mana efficiency” replied Hark

“Mana efficiency, is that why my orb shrunk when I converted it?” asked Payten

“Yes lad, since you're a beginner most of your raw mana was burned off, as you grow in skill you will be able to lose less mana in the process.”

“Now that I have the Vitus what can I do with it?” Payten asked unable to contain his eagerness

“Very well lad, it's still early in your education to be learning spells but I can tell you're excited and you have performed to my expectations, you are deserving of a reward”

***

Payten shaped his Vitus in accordance with the framework of the spell Hark had spent the last hour teaching him, he waved his hands in rehearsed movements helping him guide the flow of mana. He felt power rush into his hand as he completed the spell he extended his arm

“Grow!”

As he screamed a bolt of green mana shot from his hand slamming into the ground. The grass around the impact shot up, raising to Payten’s knee. Payten grinned like a fool, it wasn’t much

But it was something.

***

Payten and his master slipped into a routine as the days passed. They would spend the day traveling and Hark would teach him of the world, everything from geography, herbology, mathematics. It seemed as though Hark was an endless wellspring of knowledge from which Payten eagerly drank. Once they had made camp he either his master would teach him the secrets of the arcane or he would practice his sorcery, honing his ability to convert mana or practicing the new technique Hark had taught him. It was called aura building. It was the practice of saturating the area around one’s body with mana. It was mostly a defensive technique, the mana surrounding the body would interfere with foreign spells, providing a degree of protection against hostile magic.

As fearful as he was of Hark’s use of forbidden magic Payten had to admit this was the most fun he had ever had. The degrading experiences he faced at his Uncle’s farm had made his mind go dormant in an attempt to protect itself from the abuse and tedium it had faced but now it felt alive. He loved it, the feeling of his mind absorbing new knowledge, the power he felt when mana burned through his veins. This was by far the closest Payten had ever been to happiness.

They had finished their traveling for the day, stopping to rest about two days from Leeside. As Hark began to dig a fire pit Payten studied the Mana of the life around him, hoping to gain more insight into the Vitus that permitted the forest. What drew his attention was a hare that had hopped near the campsite. The mana pumped through its body rapidly, matching its quick pulse. Payten was so immersed in his study that he nearly had a heart attack when a hawk swooped down snapping the hare’s neck. The white-green Vitus swiftly started to turn black as Payten stared slack-jawed. He felt a rush of understanding bubble up in his mind.

He had just seen the cycle in action, predator and prey. The strong survive, they learn, they change, they adapt and grow stronger from it. To stagnate meant to become weak, and to be weak meant death. Life was ever-changing and if he wished to be strong so must he.

As this knowledge burned into Payten’s mind the life mana present in the woods grew brighter as he took in the surroundings, he saw a new type of energy, one he had never seen before appear in his chest, he tried to inspect it but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

He blinked hard, his focus returning to the material world, He grimaced it was an unpleasant realization, nature was savage and brutal. Uncaring to the plights of the weak, only those with the strength to survive would do so.

Payten stared at his hands, he was weak.

***

Hark raised his hand signaling him to stop.

Payten looked around worried, they had been walking for only an hour. It was far too soon to take a break.

“Lad, I sense twelve goblins hiding ahead on the road”

He swallowed hard, goblins were a short green-skinned race, known for their parasitic nature. They would form simple tribal societies that would survive by raiding from their neighbors. They possessed frail bodies and simple minds, despite this they had a great animal cunning that lent itself to ambushes, an unfortunate fact for the travelers and caravans that fell victim to their brutal traps.

“What do we do, Master?” Payten asked hoping Hark had a plan.

“Stay close to me, lad. I will handle the rest” Hark replied as he resumed walking

Payten reluctantly followed, scanning his surroundings for any signs of the ambush.

After walking for a short while Payten noticed a section of the road that was covered densely in leaves, if he was not already on edge he would have discarded the foliage without a second thought. Now he eyed it suspiciously, weary of any irregularities.

“Good eye lad, you've spotted the trap,” Hark said, Payten felt a warm feeling of pride as his master complimented him.

The necromancer then scooped a rock off the ground and threw it at the middle of the dense leaves. When the stone made contact the road collapsed, revealing a pit filled with sharp wooden poles smeared with foul-looking filth.

A shrill warcry rang out as the goblins moved to attack, two crude spears launched from the bushes both aimed at Hark, he dropped his walking stick and raised his hand towards the projectiles, the air started to shimmer. The moment the spears entered the zone of air they rapidly started to rot, turning to dust almost as quick as they had entered. Hark brought his back over his head as long blood-red icicles formed on the tips of his fingers. He brought his hand down and the ice shot in five different directions with more force than Payten thought possible, The wet *Thunks* and cries of pain confirmed they had hit their targets. A Large goblin almost as tall as Payten charged from the bushes, it held a stone axe in one hand and battered wooden buckler in the other. Hark did not even look at the new challenger as he lazily waved his hand like he was shooing away a fly. The goblin’s neck snapped with such force its head rotated fully backwards, its eyes pointed back at its companions. Hark then raised his hand palm, towards the sky and barked “rastk.” A torrent of Vitus poured from his hand and split into tendrils. Payten heard the sound of the earth being moved, then the forest was filled with what can only be described as the horrible yells of goblins being impaled. Five goblin bodies rose from the surrounding foliage, supported by the roots and branches that had skewered them. Hark then snapped his fingers and walked towards the side of the road, reaching into the bush he grabbed a stiff goblin by the back of its neck and carried to the middle of the road, setting the goblin down he extended his hand towards one of the branches that pierced a goblins chest cavity, the branch swiftly grew towards him. Hark snapped a part of the branch off and began to draw a circle around the frozen goblin.

Payten stood slack-jawed. “He killed them all in no more than ten seconds.” Payten no longer doubted the strength of his master as he clearly had a great deal of arcane might. More importantly, however Payten felt a growing sense of dread about the remaining goblin currently being encircled by Hark.

Payten watched as Hark finished the circle, it surrounded the goblin and had four symbols scratched into the dirt an equal distance from one another. When Hark was satisfied with his work he bent down and touched one of the symbols, all of the etchings briefly glowed white.

Hark spoke to the goblin in what Payten assumed to be what passed for their language. The words were short, clipped, and guttural. The goblin seemed to understand however, as when his master snapped again the goblin began to furiously shake its head, the rest of its body still frozen.

Payten had a very bad feeling about this.

“What did you say to him, master?” Payten asked his suspicion rasing with every moment

“I was just explaining to him our next lesson, lad. The goblin is trapped within the ring, when you step in, I will release my hold over him, If he kills you he’s free to go.” Hark replied in his neutral tone.

Payten hated when he was right

“Do I even have it in me to kill?” he had never been a bastion of empathy and goodwill, viewing others as hostile due to the way they treated him. Still, stealing and lying were leagues below killing another living being, even if said being was a goblin who had tried to kill him moments before.

As Payten hesitated, his mind thought of his early vision of the cycle: the weak were killed by the strong, it was the way of the world. If he wanted the strength to never be taken advantage of again he needed to harden his heart. He had committed to abandoning every moral that was taught to him when he had become the apprentice of a necromancer.

He set his jaw he knew what must be done

“To clarify, the fight begins when I enter the circle, the goblin can not leave the circle, the last one alive wins?” Payten asked, studying his opponent.

The beast was short even by goblin standards it was barely eye level with Patyen’s stomach, the thing looked like it hadn't eaten weeks, its frail arms were bone-thin and its ribs protrude through its green skin. Still Payten would not underestimate his opponent, he knew far too well that anything would fight with all of its might if you backed it into a corner. He looked at the sharp black fingernails on each of the goblins fingers, “May hurt but not deadly”. Of more concern was the goblin’s maw, its stained and jagged teeth were filed down to points. If he wasn't careful he could get a chunk bitten out of him. Concluding his investigation he was confident he could beat the goblin in a fair fight.

Of course he never intended on giving it a fair fight.

Payten took a deep breath preparing to kill for the first time. He stepped into the ring and true to Hark’s word the goblin regained control over its body and leaped at Payten, its maw open ready to bite down on the young boy.

Payten stepped out of the circle, the goblin appeared to slam into an invisible wall when it reached the edge of the ring. It started to angrily claw at the boundary trapping it. Hark said nothing; the only noticeable difference in his grim face was a slightly cocked eyebrow as he watched his apprentice pick up the walking stick he had discarded when the fight began. Payten felt the weight of his master’s staff as he reapproached his opponent, it was heavier than he had expected, made of solid wood. The goblin snarled at him as came to stand just outside the circle. He held the staff with both hands as he raised it over his shoulder, he swung with all his might. The creature tried to dodge backwards, but the small area of the ring and Payten’s reach made avoiding his sweeping blow impossible.

*crack*

The staff connected with the goblin’s knee as the sound bones breaking reached Payten’s ear. He felt vomit fill his mouth as he stared in shock at his handiwork. The goblin had dropped to the ground clutching the bone jutting from its bloody mess of a knee, it screamed in agony as it rolled in the dirt. Payten knew he couldn't stop now, the goblin was dead the moment he had decided to kill it, every moment he kept the creature alive now was just needless cruelty.

*crack*

It was so focused on his pain that the creature did not see Payten raise the staff above his head, it couldn't even try to dodge. After the blow It stopped moving, staring at him with vacant eyes.

*crack*

The second blow left the creature’s left eye socket a ruined mess of bone and blood, its eyes were completely empty now as it randomly spasmed on the ground.

*crack*

The third blow caved in the goblin’s skull, finally allowing the poor bastard the peace of death.

Pate threw the blooded staff on the ground and turned to face Hark. He had a rare half-smile on his face.

“Spectacular lad, you demonstrated both cruelty and cunning, important traits to have on the path of power. Though I suppose I will have to be more careful with my wording in the future.” Hark clapped him on the shoulder

“Now for the best part, we claimed victory and so we claim the spoils. Start looting, lad” Hark said as he picked his staff and started to wipe off the goblin brain.

“Would goblins even have anything of value?” Payten asked, he was still reeling from his murder and he did not think fondling corpses would improve his mental state.

“Most likely not, lad. But you're a necromancer now, you have to start thinking like one. Gaining strength from the dead is the core of our philosophy. As a reward for your behavior I will let you keep anything you find”

Payten sighed, he knew he would not win this argument, at least he stood to profit from this sin.

***

In total Payten had found fifteen coopers, two silvers and a cracked onyx gem. He was quite pleased with his haul as in the span of about fifteen minutes he had obtained more wealth then he had ever possessed in his life. However his joy was short-lived as he saw his Master pick up a corpse from the bushes and carried it towards Payten.

He sighed, it looked like he was not done defiling the dead for the day.

“Lad, It’s time you learn what it means to be a necromancer”

Payten hated to admit but he wanted to know with every fiber of his being, his thirst for knowledge increased by the taboo present around necromancy.

Hark reached into his pocket and removed a sheet of paper which he handed to Payten.

He inspected the page and was faced with characters he did not recognize

“What are these?”

“Runes the fourth language of magic”

“The language of magic?” Hark had an annoying habit of making open-ended statements force Payten to ask hundreds of follow up questions

“In a time before the gods and the very planes we walk upon, there was only the progenitors; mysterious entities who wielded power beyond our imagination. So great and terrible was their might that even the words they spoke had the ability to fundamentally alter reality. Their long-dead tongue is the first language of magic, and so great is its power that even knowing a single word would place you amongst the strongest in all the realms. One day, perhaps out of boredom or loneliness, the progenitors weaved the primordials into existence; The eldest and strongest of the gods. Yet even the divine power of the primordials could not comprehend the entirety of the progenitor's tongue, leading to the creation of the second language of magic, scripture; the language of the divine. The presence of the primordials lead to the creation of the planes, which they populated with the first spirits, once again the pure language of the progenitors was bastardized, creating the third language of magic called inscription or spirit-tongue. For reasons unknown the first civilizations appeared; elves, dwarves, and beastmen. They were faced with a cruel world filled with monstrosities, they coward before the spirits paying them tribute in hopes of gaining aid. They were granted runes; the first form of sorcery. Using these symbols one can direct the flow of mana”

That was a lot to take and even more to write down, as soon as Hark had launched into his lecture Payten had removed his notebook scribbled down his teacher’s words. After he was satisfied he had written the bulk of the information he studied the runes drawn on the paper.

“What do these three runes mean? Despite this being the first time he had seen runes they felt incredibly familiar to him.

“There are five runes there, lad. Three standard ones and two modifiers. The first one is a command rune modified with a personal clause: granting you control over what you inscribe it on. Carve it in between the goblin’s eyes.”

‘So I can control whatever I put this on?” Payten asked, excitedly thinking how he could abuse this.

“Yes in theory, lad. But in practice no, you would need to overpower and maintain control of your target’s will and mind, something that's almost impossible merely using a rune.” Hark answered as he watched Payten kneel next to the corpses hunting knife in had

Payten feeling slightly disappointed that his plan to mind control a dragon wasn't feasible set his mind to the task at hand, delicately carving the rune into the goblin’s flesh.

“The next is the rune of undeath when powered with necris it will attempt to reanimate what it is inscribed upon, slice it into the goblin’s chest, above the heart.”

That one seemed self-explanatory so Payten dutifully followed Hark’s instructions

“The last one is an absorption rune modified with a necris clause, it will absorb the mana from the environment in order to power the other runes, cut it into the stomach. Normally you would use necris produced within your source but teaching you forbidden magic within the Orerain border may attract the wrong kind of attention, lad.”

“Then why are you doing it now?” Payten was dying to learn more but not if it meant being burned at the stake.

“I have measured the risk and the reward and found the potential knowledge gained worth the trouble it may bring,” Hark said in his deep neutral voice.

Payten was skeptical but saw no reason not to go along with his master’s lesson as he carved the final rune into the goblin

Hark handed Payten another sheet of paper on it were words in a language he did not know

“Now place your hand on the absorption rune chant these words and charge it with potentia”

Payten did as he was told, reaching within his source and coaxing the potentia to flow down his arm as he chanted the sybels written on the page. The runes flashed white for a moment before the miasma of death mana that had been clinging to goblin bodies started to rush into the rune Payten had carved into the goblin’s chests, its eyes flew open as it let out a horrid rasp.

“congratulations lad, you completed your first ritual and created your first zombie,” Hark said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now give it an order”

“Move over there,” Payten said pointing at the corpse of the large axe-wielding goblin

The zombie tried to stand but collapsed under its own weight, too weak to even walk. It instead crawled towards its destination

Payten watched in horror and amazement as his creation limply dragged itself on the ground, horror overtook his amazement when his zombie managed to reach its target as it immediately started to devour his former comrade, furiously ripping off chunks of flesh and making a horrible choking sound as it swallowed its grisly feast.

“W..w..why is it doing that?” Payten asked as a wave of nausea pulsed through his stomach

“All beings require nourishment, and while the undead can survive off mana alone, a zombie’s instincts guide it to feed on flesh” Hark replied not at all phased by this turn of events.

“I see…” Payten responded, he was both shocked and underwhelmed. He had heard of the terrible power of necromancy yet all he could produce was a cannibal that didn't even have the strength to stand. Maybe it was just his inexperience or the method he used.

“Master, are there other ways to reanimate a corpse?” Payten asked, trying to gain more insight into the art of necromancy.

“Of course, lad, there are as many ways to raise the dead as there are stars in the sky”

“Well, how would you do it?” Payten asked, hoping he could bait his master into demonstrating more of his power.

A twinkle came into Hark’s eyes as necris pooled in his palm, forming an orb of oily blackness. He whipped his hand towards the goblins impaled on the branches and the mana shot out from his hand in tendrils that pierced the hearts of the five goblins. Immediately they tore themselves, their eyes glowing yellow with a malevolent intelligence. Stanger still, their muscles started to bulge and grow, giving them a deformed tumorous look as the additional muscular growths almost doubled their mass, bones ripped from their fingers curving into sharp claws. Similarly, their teeth extended and sharpened to the point that they jutted from the creatures mouths, giving their jaws the appearance of a bone bear trap. Their green skin grew hard and leathery as an oily black liquid filled their wounds, hardening into a shiny black material reminiscent of a beetle's carapace. Hark’s zombies dropped to their knees, kneeling before their master.

This was the kind of power he heard in the legends. The kind of power he wanted with all his heart. No matter what it cost to catch up to his master, Payten would pay it.

Hark reached into his pocket and retrieved a gold ring topped with a black gem. Slipping the ring onto his finger Hark clenched his fist and raised it high in the air. The ring lit up, highlighting the intricate carvings that had been etched into every inch of the object. The necris animating all the zombies in the area was ripped out causing them to collapse lifelessly as the mana flowed into Hark’s ring.

Hark put the ring back in his pocket as he looked at Payten.

“Lad, help me move the bodies into the pit so I can burn the evidence.”

Payten sighed, an apprentice's work was never done.