*clank* *clank* *clank*

I looked to my right as our group made our way to the outer reaches of the metropolis called the capitol. The roads and alleys seemed to flow like a river: erratic and without planning. In many ways the entire place was a lifeform all onto itself. As the boundaries of the city ever expanded the roads were built and rebuilt to the stage that no cohesive layout was followed. Centuries of modification and expansion built onto expansion left only a hard to follow maze of structures in its wake. The quality of the roads surface degraded after every layer of the onion like defence of the city we passed. Currently we were in the outer fringes of the city making our way to the bustling east gate. Novae and Able were wearing thick hooded cloaks with various multi-layered illusory and mind magics applied to them to divert people’s attention elsewhere

*clank* *clank* *CLANK* [1]

There was a dull melodic rattling, and scraping, of chains along the dirt tracks we were currently walking down. I looked forwards. What greeted me was a scene I had not visualised in over 800 years. It did not surprise me as I had seen it in the memories of that degenerate who dares to wear a crown.

Slavery.

The word always left a sour taste in my mouth. A vile act that, regardless of world or timeline, still irks me greatly. As the indistinct poorly clothed figures came closer Able pulled Novae’s hood down. I just looked onwards as the ever showing depravity of such a world made itself increasingly evident. The figures turned out to be, on further inspection, children. Not one older than 10. Each of their hands and feet were bound in hard rusted iron manacles. They were walking in an orderly line chained to one another; while being herded like cattle by a group of burly, and mostly unkempt, men.

As this line slowly passed there ragged breathing became audible. One of the slaves collapsed before me and turned his face to meet mine. His eyes were unfocused and void of all emotion or thought. The boy was utterly broken. No emotion. No thought. Just a marionette dancing to the cruel tune laid out before him by the slavers. I have seen this face all too often. Especially towards the end of the war. Parties would attack an individual’s psyche until it was an empty husk of its former self. Upon this state being reached it is effectively impossible to revert.

Most [Mind Magic’s] manipulate a person’s mental state by adding suggestions to the underlying psychological processes that govern thought within the mind. That is impossible to do if a person does not have such thought processes to begin with and, without knowing the prior mental state of the person in question, [Mind Magic](s) are ineffectual . [Nullification magic] holds innumerable rule sets of what can or cannot be done. When a person has there state reverted it only manipulates the physical state of that person and is disconnected from what could be called the state of the [Soul].

The very existence of the [Soul], or the amalgamation of all that a person is, is confirmed. However knowing that something is there and understanding it are two different matters entirely. A good analogy would be asking a person of ancient times if there were stars in the sky. The person would agree without question. But then ask that person the functioning and inner workings of how a star functions and they will give either an explanation far from the truth or honestly admit to not knowing. That was the stage that we were at into research in relation to souls at the time of the beginning of the war. [2]

However … That’s odd… I seem to have no recollection of research being done during the war on such matters… But I was sure that at the time [Soul Magic] was the most viable method to injure the hero. A hazy, indistinct, almost static memory was pulled to the forefront of my mind as a jagged pain assaulted me. It was like if someone had just dug into my head with an ice pick. Jus… what is… going..

[D͘o͇̪͍̤̩̖̤͜ ̔̊ͮ̀̀̒n̲̙͒́̀ͤ͊͌̕o̻͕̤̓͂ͣ̈t͉̱̦̾̔̏ͣ͘ ͆̚f̹̲̤͔̳̖͈̌ͣͫ̈̆̂͆ȍ̧̟̳̭ͫ̽̽̓ͪr̥̲̠͚͈̘̀͐͊̐ͫ̚ͅg̶̑ͮẹ͑̓̊̓t͈͇̣̔ͤ̃̃ i̢̥͓̫᷊̋̽̄͑᷄͂͘͏̢̳̯̲͉̿̆̍ͣ̏᷆ͪ̄᷁̏͝͞͡f̷̨᷊͖̦̯͚͔͓͇̘͐̅̌ͫͥ͑̈ͪ̾͌ͣ᷄̾̋᷈̏͛̚͜͢ w̨̕͏̶̶̢̨̛̠͖̱̰͍͚̟̰̯͍̭̞̠̘̝̖̹̠̦͎̬ͧ͛᷄̅̄͛̿͌̇͗ͨ̅᷅̀͆᷈᷃ͪ̊̿̓̽ͥ͒ͨ̓̆̂᷇̅̈́̕͝͞e̡̧̡̝̟̥̰̙̘̠̦̥̩̻͛̑ͯ̾̃́᷆̆᷃᷃̑͂᷇̈́̚̕͜ a̵̶̧̧͖͎̠̤̳̻̰͙͎̺̙̰͙͎͒ͩ᷃̒̅͂̒̋̀͌̒ͯ̍̍͑̒ͦ͑̒̑ͣ͑̒͜͢͠͏̵̴̶̵̢̨̨̧̻͎͍͔̖͎̭͖̻͎͎̪̺͙̩͎̻̩̟͉͎ͮ̈́ͧ̄̒᷁ͧ̒ͣ̋̀̈́̒̋ͮ͑ͪ̐̒̉̄͛᷾̅̒̎̏̒᷃᷈̒ͩ̑̀̒᷈̅᷆͐̒̈́̀̕͢͝͡ͅ͏̘̠̫̾̒r̶̸̸̡̢̛̞̜̞͎̩̻͎͎͖̮͙᷂̠͎̦̻̜̱͇̹͎̞̮͔͎͖̝͎̥̻̭͎̀̄̒᷈᷀̒̒̋᷄ͬ̌̒ͭ᷃̔̒᷀ͧ̇̒͒̃̒͛͑̈́ͭ̒́̒ͣ̂̒̅̍͗ͤ̉̒̔̽̇̒ͪͮ̚͟͢͝͞͏̨̢͇᷿͙᷂̲̲͇͙͚͎̮̻̙͔͎̝͖ͬ̒͋̒᷃᷅̒ͥͭ̽̒ͬ͌ͯ̒̅̌̚͠è̵̷̶̸̡̡̢̡̺͍͎̻͍̠̪̗͎̝̗̜͎͙͓̝̤͎͎͍̻̜͎̥͕̥̻͎̻̫͎̻͙͎͖̇̒ͭ̔̇̒͗̋̐̒̒᷈̒̓᷄̅̒̽̒͌̒᷅̂᷀̊̒̓ͬͣ̄̒̉ͥ᷈̒ͤ᷁᷁͌̒̔᷇̂͊ͤ̒᷀̄ͣͨ̒᷁͑͋̒᷆͢͜͜͠͡͡͝ͅͅ͏̸͚̻̠̟͈͎͉̒͊᷃ͬ̒ͩͥ͢ͅ t̸̼͎͚̯̝̻̫͎̒̌̄͐̔̒̃͐ͫ̒̒́᷀̎ͬͅ͏̶̛̛̛᷂̠͙͎̼̻̯͎̥͇̖͎̙̻̝͎̪̠͙̱͎̻̞͎̦̬̜̏̒͐᷾̓̒͒ͦ᷅᷾̒̍̾͂̐̒̇̿᷾͌̒ͣ̾̽̒̃͛᷅̒᷁̉̒̅ͧ̊᷄̒ͬ᷈᷀̒᷄͗᷉͋ͤ̒̾͋᷾ͪ̒͊͗̂͌̒̊̕̚͘͘̚̚͟͟͠͠͞͠ǫ̷̴̨̡̡̪͎̤̱̻͓͎͕̬̜͙̜̯͚͎̯᷊͉̻̪̯͎͚̯̞̥͎̗̤̻̺̰̖̳͎᷊̲͙̱̰͎̪͖̱̻̰̖̟͎͍̘̦̒ͨͣͮ̒ͭͬ̐̒̏᷇᷄̒̿̓̒͒̒̿ͫͨͦ̒᷀͛᷉̒̆᷃ͣ̈́͆̒̄᷆̎̍̒̂ͩ̒̅̅̒͗̅᷈̒̂̅̒͛̋̒̓̉̒̿̕͜͟͠͞͞͝͡͝͞ͅ w̵̴̸̨̡̢̛͓̣͎᷿̥̻̞͎̰̜͓̤͙̱᷂̩͎̱̖̠̹̻̱͚͉͎͙̮̱̱̬͎͕̘̻᷿͎̪̮͎͙̰̳͎̖̟̻̖̫̜͎̖͙̝̤̬͑᷅̒͆̿̓̒̏̏ͧ̂̒͐̀ͫ̒̽᷈̒ͤ̒͐͊̀ͩͣ̒᷇̒ͨͪͣ̌̒̒̒͆̅̒ͯ̋̽̒᷅ͯͣ̒ͥ͆́͆̒ͯ̽̒̈́͐̒̕̕͜͢͠͞ĭ̶̷̴̶̡̢᷂᷿͎̫᷿͎̻̜̭͎̤͙̱͎᷂̬̻̝͖͎̮̭͎̖̻̂̒᷾᷄ͩ͆̒᷀̈́̓̒᷾ͦ̒͒᷾̒̒ͨ̍̿̒ͤ̒᷉̈᷈͌̌̒᷄̽ͣ̽̽̒̌ͥ̐̒͋͘͘͘͠͝͡͠͏̵̷̨͎̞̞͙̖͈̣̩̜͎̺̻͖͉̙̻͎͎͎̼̩̈́̒᷃᷅̊͐̒᷀᷾̂̒̒͌̒ͭ̾͆̒́̚̕͟n̴̷̴̵̶̡̢̨̨̛͓͎̻̺̫̻̜̝͎̜̗̘͙͈͎͓᷊̻᷊͇̪͎̻̞̭̞͎͓̻͓͙̼͎̖̤̝͙̗̖͎̦̻᷂̳͎᷿̐᷁͛̒ͫͯ᷆̒͋᷆̒̒̒̆͒̒̒ͪ̽̒ͦ̂̒̍̾̓̒ͤ͑̓ͣͯ̒̈́ͭ̒ͦ̇̄͊̒̒̃͑̒̇ͩ̄᷆̒͛̍̒̒ͮ͂͋̋̒ͯ᷉̋̒̋̀͘͘̚͜͡ͅy̴̶̡̳̹̳̳͕̗̼̰̻̆̈́͂̾̀͒̔̾͌̓᷀̾̋̓͛̾᷉̒͊̾̾ͯ͠͠ͅ͏̵̡̨̛͕̩͍̪̬̘̻̜̪̮̻᷿̜͕̱͓̜̙̠͍͓᷂̫͓̥͇̙͕͕͎̝᷊᷉᷾̾̑͐ͦ̾̓͐͒ͭͥ̾͋̽̏̽͐̾̈́͊ͪ᷾̾̆̆̒̂ͯ̾̇̓ͣ͋̾͗ͦ̔᷁̾᷉̄᷾̾᷆̑̾᷁ͣ́᷇̃̾᷀̑̾᷾̾̚̚̚͜͟͝͝͞͏̰̼̯͔͓᷂͔ͭ̈́̾̓̾ͥ͘͠͡͡͝o̷̶̵̴̴̴̷̸̡̡̡̧̢̢̧̼͉͕̪̳̲̻͕̺̤͔᷂͎᷂̞̹̦̫͚̝͉͈̲᷂͇̙̩̙͕̻͚͖͇͙͎̞̤͚̱̥̘͈̖̰̼͚̝̬̲̖̖̹̹͕͔̱̗̩̞͖̝̰͇̙̾ͧ̾̀́̿̒̾ͤͪͥͩ̓͐̾̌ͬ́ͣ̾̌ͦ̾̉̉́̀̾͒̉ͦ̾͛͐᷃͐̾͛͋̒̾ͯ̌͛ͨ̾ͩ̅̅᷄̾͒̏́᷾̾͒ͮͭ̾ͤͬ͊̈̾᷅ͫ̋̾͆̊͊͛̒̾̐͑̾͂ͮ̏̾̅̔̀̾͒᷄̃̉ͨ̾ͥ̑̀̾᷉ͮ̌̾̇̿̾͋ͩͨ̾ͮͫ͊̅̾ͦͦ̆̏̾͘̕͟͟͟͟͢͢͠͠͡͝͞͡͞͡͞ͅͅͅ͏ͮ̾͘͏̦̖͓᷈᷉̎͒͊̾᷉᷁͏̵̷̶̡̡̡̻̬̹̗͈̰͈͙̯̉̾ͧ͆̊̒͑̾ͥͮ̒̾̅ͬ̆᷈̾ͣ̾ͦͪ͐̆̿̾͆̿̾̍̑̚̕͞͠͝ư̸̵̶̷̷̸̷̧̡̡̧̡̡̧̘̟͎̱̲͖̟͇͕̜͈͍̖̥̖̮̤̣̹᷂̭̠᷂̟̩̯̳̯͙̤͓̘᷿̠̩̰̯᷿̟̥᷿͍̲̻̰̱᷂̦͓̭̜̝̮̤͇̲᷊̹͎̦̻͇̩̪̝͙̫̮̗̣̰̭͎̇͋̾ͬ͐̾̑͗̾̌́᷃̀ͭ̾̋͊ͨͥ̒᷇͑̾᷇͌̾ͧͥ̆̅᷅̅̾̓͆̾͒ͣ᷈̐͐̾̄̌ͬ̾́̓̾ͧ̒̾ͪ̾̾ͩͧͨ̾̊̇̔̾᷇ͭ᷾ͨͯ̾̾̾ͮ᷅ͦͯ̾͛͐̌̒᷇̾̾̌̾᷈̈́̊̾̊᷉᷀̋᷀̾͑͑ͧ̾ͭ̇̾́̿̍̾͛̓̕̚͘̚̕͘̚͟͢͢͢͠͠͡͝ ̷̴̴̢̡̧̧̹̦̺̻̹̤͇̫͖̩̣᷊͓͇̝̲̲᷊̰͎͍͓᷂͉̣͔̠̹̲̮͙̱̘͚̪͍̥̒̏̾ͤ̑̾᷆ͫ᷅̾̆᷾͗᷉͗̾̈́̉̋̾͊̆̍̎̾᷁̃̈́͗̾᷃̆̾͆̾̾́̾̃᷀͗᷉̇̅̾̂ͭͣ̾ͮ᷈̏ͨ̅ͨ̾͌ͩ̿͐᷃̃̾̊̒̾̋ͤ͑᷁̾ͣ͘͘̚͟͜͟͟͞͞͡͠ͅ҉҇҃҅̾̌̉҆͘҉̸̳̹̟̹̻͔᷂̱̼̰͎̬̼̜͎᷿̙̳̩͔҃҆̾ͯ̾᷉͐͗̾ͣ̄̓̂̾̍̎̉̾̃̾̈́̾̓᷇ͨ͋͗̾᷄̾͐̚͜͟͝͡͝m̶̧̦̻͙͖̘ͪ̾̒᷀ͤ̾̃̐͒̕̕͏̶̵̵̴̧̧̡̣̠͙͎̙̖̳̹̭̰̤̤̠̫̝̠͎̾͐̾̇̾ͦ͋̾̋̈͊̒̾̾̿̓̌̾̈́̾̂ͩ̽͊͐̾᷇᷈͞͏̖̯̫͚͖ͣ̾᷁̓̎̑̇̾̀͌̑̈̾͢͏̵̵͈̫̣͑᷀̆ͥ̾̈́̐̑̾͘͢͏̡͖᷿͚͉̰̋͛̃̾ͩ͋᷁ͩ̈̾͆ư̴̷̷̸̢̨̧̭᷊̻͓̮̭᷊̣̺̳̻͍̝᷂̬̺̯̘̟̥̙̦͙̻͙͖̥̟̠̭̖̝͔͓͖᷂͖̻̺̙̥̖͖᷊̰̟᷾̾͗̋̆̾ͩ̐̐᷉̒̾̾ͮ̾᷆̓ͮͦ̾͌̍̾᷄ͫ̄̾̓͆ͧ̒̾᷆͐̉ͩ᷉̾̋ͮ͌̾᷃̏᷆̾͗̐̉̾̀̆ͨ̾͐̍̿᷇̾̇̾̾̍ͧ̾ͨ͘͘͞͡͡͠͡͞͡ͅͅs̯̣͚̦͚᷆͌̾̊͛̏᷆͗̀͊͌̾̔ͥ͢͏̴̴̵̧̧͖͇̰̝̗͓̠̗̟͕̥̰̼̻͖̣̠̠̑͗̾᷅᷃ͯ̅̾᷉ͦ̉͂᷄̾͊᷾͗̾ͪ̍͌̈̾̒̿̾ͦͦ͂̈̾̑̆̐͂̒̾̈́͑̍ͪ̾ͩ̑̾̕͟͟͞͞͡͡͝͏᷊͌̾᷀̉ͣ͘͏̵̴̵̷̧̡̧̢̡̡̢̢̡̛̦̱͉̻᷊̜̠̞̦̳̯̳͔̜̠᷊͕̦̺̣̯᷿̗̯̬͈̮̺̳̟͓͔̘̝̭̻̠͓̳͍̙᷿̱̫᷊̠̙̖͒̽̓̾ͬ͌̐ͤ̾̒͑ͪ̾᷅̀̂̔͂͑᷁͐̾̓ͤ᷉̾ͩ̏̋̾̾᷉ͩͩ̾ͯͣ̾̊̇̿̍̄̾̏᷉ͬ̾̿̇̓̾ͭ᷇᷉̾᷇̐᷇̾̽͐̀̓͐ͦ̾̄͌̾᷈ͦ᷀̾̌᷈᷇̔᷀̾̐̕̚͘̚̕͢͟͜͢͢͠͠͡͡͞͠ͅͅţ̷̸̻̑͛̈̾ͫ̂̀᷄̾̎͂͠͏̫̪͙͖̳̮́̂̾᷁̀̾᷆̐̎᷈̾̕͘͏̵̸̶̵̷̡̡̢͈͍̫̱̱͍̦̠̜͙̙͍̹͚̲̯̪̩͍̤̮̜̩̳̙͕̫̟̹͈̝͈͍͚᷾̾̄͐̂᷃̾᷉̍̈ͦ᷅̾᷅ͧ̏̋̾̔̾᷾ͦ̾̽̈͋̾ͪ᷉ͣ̊̾̄͐̿ͧ̈́͆̾ͭ͐̑̾͒͗ͭ̓̾͌̆̈͌̾̊͂̊ͭ̾̾ͧͭ̀̾͢͢͢͝͡ͅ͏̷̶̵̴̡̡̢̢̛̛̛̮̫̭͓̤̻̞̭̥͓͉̪̼̫̘̖̞̼᷿̣̺͔̲̼̦͍᷿̠͙᷿͎̲̫̝̱̯̥᷊᷾̍ͫ̾ͨ̽̾ͬͬ͊̃ͪ̾ͣ̾͛ͤ̾̓ͨ̾᷉̇᷅᷉̾ͯͫ̾᷉ͨ̉̾᷃᷈᷄̎̾̈́̅̾ͩ̎̈̾͑ͫͬ̾̂ͧ̕͢͝͝͞͠Ṉ̨̢̧̧̨̧̛͚̪̱͙̻̦̹̘̘̲͉̱͎̩̖᷿͚̖̙͓̗̳̲͖̰̟͖͍̳̫̙̽ͪ̌̽̈̓ͫͮ̽ͫ͗̽᷆ͫ̋̽ͬ̽̈́̊̽᷾̿̽ͦ̽̊̏ͩ͆̽᷅͘͜͟͟͜͞͡ͅ͏͙̜̟̪̲̠̮̰̤͕᷊̭͎͎̼̯ͭͧͪ̽̿͒̏̀̽᷆̽̔͂᷃̽̊͗᷃ͮ̿̽ͮ̋͗ͥ̍̽̚̚͜͞Ǫ̴̴̵̸̵̢̡̢̨̧̛̻̲̳᷿̝̫̘̲̖̺̮̳̻̝̖̲͖̠̠̺͇̙͖͈̘̺̜̦͔͚̠͕̺̠͖̞̱͕̤̝͉̼̆̔̽ͥ̾͑᷀̽᷃ͣ᷈͌̽̂᷁͐̈́ͫ̽̉̈́ͥͭͧ̽̇̈́ͥ͌̽᷁͛́̽᷃̈͐ͦ̽͊̅͋̽̊͊̒́̽ͣ͗ͩ᷉ͨ̽ͣ͊᷾᷅̽̏̍̋̽ͤ᷉̽̆ͪ̓̽̈́ͧ̑̿̽̒ͬͯͮ͊̽̒͒̍̽ͣ̒᷅̽ͤ᷇̽᷅̽̑͐̉̽̆ͮ̓̚͘̕͘͘͢͜͢͜͝͠͠ͅ͏̵̧̝͚͙̺͈̭̟͇̺̂ͩ̽᷈̈́̽ͫͣ᷇̽̉̎᷀̾̽̓ͩ͜͢Ť̴̪̮͎̩̰̗̱̘̺̤̮̪̟̳͖͚̙̽͋ͬ̒̆̽᷆ͭ̽̎̓ͪͣͪ̽̇̐̓̽ͯ̋̏̋̈́᷁̽᷃̈́̽ͧ̕͘͟͝͡͞͏̸̴̵̴̷̵̧̛̛̫̼̜̱̥̝̭̯̞̼̤̲̗̘̤͇̟᷂̥̞̙͇̫̱̻͎̘᷂͍̟̟̙͈̮̰̩͉͚͓̟̝̩̻͚̜̟᷊͑̍̽̃᷅̋̽̊᷾̽ͧ͆ͯ̓᷃̽ͩ̽ͦ͊͒̿̄᷾̽᷆᷈̽᷆̉̈̽᷀̽̽᷈᷆̔᷃ͧ᷾̽̋̋̽̒̽̽̉̊᷆̃̽͛᷅ͦ̒̽᷅́᷅ͯ̽ͮ̑͗̽͘͘͢͟͞͠͝ͅͅ͏̞͕᷂ͭͨ͌̽ͥ͞͝ ̶̴̵̵̶̷̧̧̧̡̡̢̨̢̛̛̛͔̩̙̼̦̦̙̠̤̜͈̥̺̯̻̲̲͎͇͎̜̣᷂̮̭̬̬̯̟̺̥̣̟̣̬̺̦̩̰̫̤͇͓᷂͔̦̺͍̺̞̮͉̩̱̤̪͒ͫ̽̉̂̽̍͗̐̋̒̽ͣ̋̽᷉̆̄̅ͩ̽̀᷇̽̽͆̋͌̃̽̉͂̽̈́̇ͫ̂̽᷀ͤ̅̿̽̏̿᷆̅ͮͨ̽͒͊̽̌̊̈̽̃ͮ͆̏̽͛ͨ̾ͤ̔̽͐̑᷈̑̽̊̊̽̽́᷇̐̽̒̽ͫ᷾ͨ̽̀᷁̍̊̽͋̑ͮͪ̽̽᷾᷇̽ͪ̄̽̉͆ͫ̽̽ͭͤ̕̚̚͘̕͘͟͟͝͞͞͡͡͠͠͝F̷̵̴̴̵̸̴̸̸̨̨̡̢̧̧̛̩̳͕͚̳̲̤̼̖̱̼̟̼͎͎̼͔̤᷂̻̥͖̟̩̬͇̫̜̭͈̱᷊͕̝͖͙̼̟͓̘᷂̤͈̞̲᷊̺̞̪̻̪̔̋̽̏ͤ͗ͪ᷀̽̑͊̐ͮ̽̑̾᷄̽̎̓̽͐̓̾᷇ͥ̽̏᷄᷾̽ͫ̽ͦ᷃᷆͊̽ͤͦ̽ͧ᷀̽͑̌ͥ͆̽ͬ͌͆̽̽̊͋̽̐ͯ̽᷈̑̔̽͌̽̓ͩͬ̽͐͗̈̓̽̽̅̈̓̽̽͒̒̅̽͑ͭ̚̕͘͢͟͜͢͠͡͠͞͞͠͝ͅ͏͈̟ͦ̽͠Ȍ̶̗̖̜͈̫̞̳̥͎͚̹͓᷿͈̜̯͚̽̃᷁̅ͩ̽͌̿̐̔̽ͤ̊̽᷉ͮ᷆̽̏̌͒᷆̀̽͌ͭ̊̚͠͠͝͏̶̸̵̸̡̨̡̨̥̻͙̖͍̞̰͙̳͈̘̺̱̝͎̝̖̯͚͔̪̦͓̙̮͉̟͚̽̿̊͂̓̽͊̎̽̇̉͊̽͂᷅͒̓᷄̽̉̈́͗̏̽̽̉᷆̍ͧ̾̽ͧ͛̽̈̿̽̔ͥ̔̎͆̽᷄̍̎͋ͩ̽᷆́͒̔̽̽̚͢͟͝͝͡͝ͅ͏̶̶̴̧̧͎᷊͓̮̰̤̜̰̼̗᷊͕̘͚̳͇̖̺̤̮͎͓̞̱̻̮ͫ̽͆ͣ̂̽͗ͪ͗̽̋͋̉̽̍̌̽᷃᷁̎̽ͪ͆̽̿̔̽̽̏᷾̽̍᷇̽ͧ̚͜͢͢͠͡͝͏̘̗͗̽͆͏̵̶̴̢̧̛̜͕̰̭̱͇̹̪̬̯̫̲̙͇̳͍̰͎᷿͓̩̻̻̯̮᷿͇᷀̽͋̽᷀͛̍̽ͣ̃ͭ̽͐̾᷇̽̓᷃᷆͆̓̽̽᷄͊̎ͨ̽̇ͫ̇̍̽̊̆̑̽ͧ᷀᷀̕͟͡͡͠͝ͅR̸̶̵̴̷̢̡̨̧̢̨̡̧̨̛̟̗͚͓̜̠̩᷿̮̪͖̟͎̖̙̗̲᷊̹̻̹̮̳͓͈̖̞͈̹̫̯̦͔̦͔̜͎̹̹̞͓͍̞̘̱͉̮̪̼̗͕̤͚͚͍̼̭̼᷅̈́̽̌ͭ̅᷃̽̔ͮ͌̎̽̋᷇̃̽̿͋̆͊̽̋᷄ͩ̾̽̋ͩ̽ͩͦ̽͊͆̓᷈̽̽ͯ͊̾̽̏̄̏̽᷇̾᷁̽ͦ̽͆̽̊᷆̽̏̿͒̂̽̌᷅ͪ̽͑̇ͧ̽̇͛ͫ̽̽ͧ̀᷅̽ͩ̔̽̌ͯͭͬ̽͑ͦ̽ͭ̍̀ͬ̽̚͘̕͟͟͜͢͢͞͝͠͝͝͠Ģ̴̶̶̶̷̸̶̶̵̶̧̧̢̡̨̧̛̛̛̬͚͚͓̪̭̣̠᷿̫͇̖͙̺̳͈͕̝᷊̫̠͖̗̲͔̦̩᷿̫̦̥̪̖̜᷂͍͔͕̥̜͖̻͙̰̲͇̖̳͈̣͈̘̜͖̤͖̼̼͈̫̘͖᷂͔̥͖͍͕̭̘̝̯͓͍̲̽̍̄̒̽ͥ̊̀ͣͥ̒̑̽᷉͌͛ͯ̽᷇͛̀ͫ̾̽ͥ̐ͯ̽ͤͭ̄ͫ̽̃̊̍ͩ̔͂̽̀̎̽̓᷀̉ͭͮ̽̓ͣ̓̔̽᷃ͨ᷀́̽ͦ̋ͭ᷀̽ͦ̇̈́͌̽ͯ̅͊᷉̽͆͒̀̽ͮ̐̓ͥ̊̽᷄͆̽͂̽͌͊̽̓ͥ᷁̽̔̓̂̊̽̆ͬͥ̆ͩ̽ͤ᷾̄̽᷅̽᷄̔̀̽ͥ͋̏̽́̌ͤ̊̽᷈̏̔̽ͮ̂͂̽ͫ᷄᷾̽᷇̚͘̚̕͜͜͢͡͡͝͡ͅͅȨ̵̶̵̶̷̤̝̗͎᷿̼̭̝͍̜̠̖̍̈́̽̐᷄ͬ̽̾̅᷅̽̑̈̐̄̽͌ͥ͆̓ͦ͒̽̒͋̎ͮ̽͒̏̽̓̽̃͊̈̃̽̕͘͠ͅ͏̶̵̡̭͓̹͖̺͓̭͉ͥ́̓̃̽ͯ̿́̽᷉̒̊̐͋̽ͩͯ̐̽ͣ͜͟͏̴̶̴̵̵̡̛᷂̩͇̗͓̟̰͈͍̯̹̱̙̙̳͓̝̰͚̪̟̱̻͈̮̹͖̞̺̪̤͕̖͉̙͓̹̮͎̈̌̽̆̽̅͒̓̽ͯ͂̽̒͊̽̒͛ͪ͋̽̐᷀̎͂̽̑̀̽̾ͤ̽ͬͭ̇̽̏ͯͮ̽ͯ́᷾᷆̽̂̽̎͛̕̚͢͜͟͢͜͞͡ͅŢ̵̷̸̵̵̧̡̛̛͉᷿̺̺̲̳̥̰͚̬͕̝͔̣͚̳̠͓͚̞͈̮̩͚̙͙̪͕͎͖̺͚̲̟̫͔͕̲̦̟͖̙͇̝͎̼̤̯̲͚͍̺̭̘͍̪̙̣̱̽̋̅̽̊ͧͥ̄̌̽᷃̿̀͐̽͂̓̽̊͑ͭ̿̂͐͆̽̾ͥ͒᷅́̽̋̐͊̽᷇̈́̄̍̽ͧͭ́̽̒͐͂ͧ̽᷁̐͋̄͗̽ͤ̃ͣ̽ͣ͆͒̅̽̽́̽͌᷃̂̽ͦ̈́᷈ͩͭ̽᷇̑᷀̒̽᷄̾̉̽ͥ̐̽̆ͦ̽̃̕͢͢͜͢͠͞͞͝͝͝ͅ ]

forget? Forget what?

[3]

The rest of the memory fell into a deep static and there was just an incoherent mumbling as phantom like figures made motions towards what looked to be a formula; the area it took up was colossal. The characters were too indistinct to properly follow. As the static and pain got more potent my mental defence network was triggered and that region of the brain was isolated. That was odd… I will have to look into that in far greater detail later.

I clutched my head in pain as the two emotionless eyes remained fixated on me. The line of slaves halted upon the boys fall. The boy was human as evident by his two rounded ears. I looked towards the walking corpse as the face of absolute apathy looked back towards me. A slaver came with what looked to be some form of crude spear and shouted at the boy.

I looked towards him with a face full of scorn. The rule of might makes right still stands stronger than ever I see. Some in my position may have immediately gone up to the slaver and directly confronted him. However taking actions and thinking like that is far too short minded. After saving them then what? How am I to cure the untreatable? It’s not a question of ‘saving them’ it is having the full ability to ‘save them in all aspects’.

I don’t have the time to handle each individual’s case; cover up the repercussions of such an incident taking place and ensure each person’s safety after the matter. Any time spent here is delaying plans against the summoning of [The Hero]. And in such cases even a day could spell life or death for millions of people. In this case I simply don’t hold the necessary resources to take them away from slavery.

Though my morality is just a subjective world view that may be considered abnormal by this worlds standards I still hold it close. I’m not one to temporarily solve a problem. And this supposed salvation may spell there end anyway as they would most likely to fall back into slavery given the state they are in at this point in time. I will certainly abolish this practice as soon as possible through one way or another but for now I must make it back to the demon capitol.

Looking at the technology of humans; the demons far outclass the humans in terms of technological prowess. The divide is actually quite stunning; maybe 300-400 years ahead? A few decades into the information era? [4]Or around 100 years behind my world just before the war broke out. This disparity in technology is incredibly interesting and another thing I will have to check up later.

However the inability to ‘save them’ and the inability to ‘help them’ are two entirely different concepts. I can most definitely make conditions better for them; though indirectly. I began to form a high level [Mind Magic]. This spell only worked on those with incredibly low mental fortitude and could be overwritten or treated by a mage with rudimentary knowledge of [Mind Magic]. However the beauty in the spell was not its immediate effect but its effects over time. In this case the spell was custom made by me using an amalgamation of other spells in a multi component [Recursive magic]. The spell itself would, over time, manipulate the base morality of the person under the effects of the spell. It would bring into question each time they did something ‘wrong’ relative to the casters morality and attempt to retroactively look for memories of times where there sense of morality was not so warped or, in worse cases, generate new memories to influence the person to change. Its effects are slow but permanent as it uses the persons own thought processes against them. At a certain stage it will dispel leaving no traces of it being there and it would seem that the person had changed of their own free will.

The spell was cast on all members and guards present leading the group of slaves. The nastiest effect of the spell was its ability to spread like an infection under certain parameters. In this case it would target slavers and use the infected person’s mana supply to propagate the spell to other people. This cannot be used en masse as it would alert higher authorities before the spell had any impact and it could be contained. Moreover, this vector of transferal for a spell is difficult to pull off and can have unpredictable consequences; as the world is all too often more complex than a set of simple parameters. Regardless of that this is the most I can do for them at this point in time.

Able looked at me strangely as if I were plotting something; … well I was. But in any case, with Able’s eyebrows knitted, we continued forwards ignoring the further actions of the slavers.

We came towards the eastern commercial epicentre of the capitol that developed from travellers passing through while trading and buying goods close to the gate. Various merchants peddled their wares in a verbose manner with their loud voices.

‘Beautiful jewellery sourced from the furthest reaches of the kingdom. Have a special someone in your life and want to tie the knot? This is the perfect way to do so! Only 2 gold! Valued at 3! [5]’ one merchant shouted.

‘That fur coat is from a frost wolf from the far south! 80 silver is effectively robbing me. 90 silver is my lowest. ’ another merchant haggled.

Many merchants singled out prospective customers and attempted to convince to part with hard earned coin for scrupulous wares. Our group was of course exempt from constant pestering as per the passive effects of my [Cloaking Magic] that was still active. We made our way through the swathes of pedestrians and towards a distinct mana signature that could only be that of Vinoessa’s.

I had already filled in the details of who we were going to meet with Able; while selectively holding unnecessary, or potentially dangerous, information about Vinoessa from her.

“Took you long enough! .{ o(≧o≦)o}”

(Author note: {ASCII emoji} is the text representation of the transferal of emotion over a telepathic link and will be held in curly braces à{})

A voice I had not heard in a (seemingly) long time resounded throughout my head. Looks like a low level form of [Telepathy] was used to form a link between me and Vinoessa. It’s a form of [Mind Magic] that is hard to pull off at long range and effectively conveys meaning to another person and is typically parsed by the spell as speech. It looks like this version of [Telepathy] requires for emotion to be bound into the message for it to be properly received by the recipients mind. This is an old way of doing it; as, in my old world, the main form that telepathy came in was [Assumptive Telepathy] where emotion was assumed and used to pass meaning on to another person’s mind. I might as well use the older method she is using for now.

“Oh [Telepathy] I’m impressed {( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)}” I honestly replied.

“Oh of course he knows [Telepathy]! { ლ(ಠ益ಠლ) } A top secret developmental magic! {(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻}} Don’t mind me as I walk into a corner and wallow in my own self-pity!{ʕ ಡ ﹏ ಡ ʔ}” Vinoessa exasperatedly replied.

“Don’t be upset; it is nothing to be worried about! {／人 ⌒ ‿‿ ⌒ 人＼}[6]” I responded innocently.

“This is only the first level of [Telepathy]{(｡･ω･｡)}” I jokingly added.

“FFFFFFF…{凸(`д´…}” I cut the telepathic connection there.

“What are you doing?” Able questioned.

“Oh nothing…” I said in a matter of fact tone.

We darted round a few dark alley ways and offshoots from the main road until we made it to a secluded court yard. There, in one of its corners, was a girl curled up in a ball. It looked as if there were even physical manifestations of depression lines you would typically see in animated fictions eerily looming over her head. Well regardless, I called out to her.

“Vinoessa…-” I carefully stated.

Vinoessa got back up and looked towards me with a slightly depressed face before whimpering.

“Yes paragon of everything.”

Looks like she was really proud of that spell…

“Don’t worry I will teach you the higher level variants of that magic later.” I replied attempting to mitigate the situation

“It took me and a team of researchers 8 years to develop [Telepathy]… 8 YEARS…”

While we were bickering Able just stood there in a dumb stupor. Novae was giving Vinoessa a evaluating glare.

“Look… Please calm down Vinoessa… ”

She let out a sigh “Well … Whatever … ” she acquiesced.

Just at that moment Novae seemed to decide on something.

“Donut!” Novae concluded with her hand raised pointing at the still half-curled up Vinoessa.

We all just looked at her with our mouths agape. Vinoessa curled back up into a ball while I began to uncontrollably laugh. Novae happily skipped towards Able before giving her a hug. Able just stood there in an even deeper stupor.

It took about 7 minutes of poking and convincing for Vinoessa to finally come out of her corner; while Able sternly reprimanded Novae and got her to reluctantly apologise. As Vinoessa stood her appearance had completely changed to that of a girl whose face could be used as the definition of normality in this world. This sort of disguise is actually quite weak as every person in this world has some sort of personality hidden within their appearance without fail. This actually makes a person who looks so normal all the more suspicious; especially if they are attempting to blend in with their surroundings. Well regardless I think I have unknowingly crushed Vinoessa’s self-confidence enough today.

We all made our introductions and proceeded towards the east gate in earnest.[7]

[1]May or may not of just binge read ‘Those who aspire to become gods’.(How’s about we make it *rattle* *rattle**rattle* *rattle*)

[2] All aboard the digression train

[3] If you read this there is a message hidden very well here (post it if you find it :D)

[4] INITILIZE DEUS EX MACHINA TO FULL EFFECT .

[5] Insert generic gold, silver, copper currency system here

[6] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkTb9GP9lVI

[7] Will they ever make it to the east gate? Or will infinite digression keep them locked into the capitol forever? Find out next time on TGH!

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Thanks for reading thus far. Please comment as you are the only reason I am writing this :)

-point out any plot holes ore other discrepancies within the text for me and give constructive criticism if you don't like the direction of the fiction.rate it honestly :D