The silence over the death lake could be broken by a falling pin. Everyone simply waited.

Jerry’s forces had defeated Arakataron. To save himself, the Archmage then accelerated his ritual and revived Desistos, the Death Primordial, an entity of unfathomable power. The heart seed they’d planted on Desistos—a spell that would enslave him to the Wizard Order—was still brewing, but Arakataron offered a deal that no sane creature would refuse.

Desistos squashed him like a bug.

Before anyone had time to process what happened, Desistos turned to the soul whale. “What is going on?” he asked in a rumbling voice.

It flinched. “Great Desistos,” it began, “I have hidden in the death lake for a long time. I have witnessed everything. The Wizard Order, a tyrant organization, have revived you but also planted a slave seed inside your heart. We defeated Arakataron—the person you just killed—and forced him to accelerate the ritual. As a result, you do not possess your full power, but the seed has also not taken effect yet.”

Mid-conversation, Desistos had stopped listening. He was looking at his own claw from all angles, as if inspecting it.

This is mine… he thought. I am a dragon. I am the God of Death. A Primordial. I am also Desistos…apparently. He looked at the humans, undead, and souls that stood before him. These little creatures are my servants. Why can I not understand what they are saying?

“Dumb it down for me, whale,” he commanded, and the whale seemed visibly shocked. Why? Desistos wondered. Was I not supposed to say that?

“Dumb it down?” It struggled to speak as if it just had an aneurism.

“Forget about it. Just tell me… Who am I?”

The little creatures apparently enjoyed being shocked, as they’d been doing that all along. Unfortunately, Desistos didn’t care about their desires. “Stop standing around and speak, humans.” He growled—they shuddered. Ah. Can their souls not stand my pressure?

He withdrew it, and the humans seemed able to breathe again. Their souls stopped shaking. Desistos’s attention flickered to the one behind him, the one that seemed to contemplate attacking him, but he paid no heed. If the little creature insulted him, he would just kill it, as he had with the talking skeleton.

“You are Desistos, the God of Death, the Death Primordial,” the whale replied reverently, and Desistos considered destroying it on the spot for wasting his time. He already knew all those…but then again, perhaps he was being too harsh. These creatures were in the presence of a God; how could their tiny minds move fast enough?

His dissatisfaction must have shown because one of the humans, the one who stood on the whale’s head, spoke up.

“Excuse me,” he said, “are you okay? My undead are often confused when they awaken, so maybe you feel the same.”

Finally! Someone who doesn’t speak in circles. If only he made sense as well.

“I am a God, tiny being. Of course I am okay.”

“Oh… Well, I’m just asking because you sound odd. You remember who you were before reviving, right?”

The other creatures all looked at the speaker in absolute shock and horror, as they often did. However, as time went by and Desistos remained silent, their shock turned into incredulousness.

“You are correct,” he finally replied. “You say I have been revived, but I remember nothing. Explain.”

“That’s okay.” The tiny creature smiled, for some reason. “The past is overrated, anyway. You are Desistos, one of the five Primordials who ruled the world once upon a time. You all disappeared six hundred years ago, for unknown reasons, and I don’t know about the others but, apparently, you died.”

“Hmm.” Desistos mused. “Was I a good ruler?”

“Eh,” said the tiny creature, and one of the others—a skeleton—fell on its back as if it had a heart attack. That was impossible, of course. It had no heart. “You were a bit tyrannical, but then again, who isn’t? Maybe history was unfair to you.”

“That is unfortunate. I want to know the truth so I can repeat it. I trust my previous self.”

“Well, you’re about to be a slave soon, so maybe it doesn’t matter too much.”

Desistos’s face darkened, inciting terror in all inferior hearts. His awareness dived into his body, scanning it with the absolute will of a God, and quickly uncovered a seed placed in his heart. It was both physical and magical, encapsulating his heart and soul, the core of his being.

Destroying it would be a simple matter, of course, but it was already rooted too deeply. Removing it would mean destroying himself, and even a God’s soul wasn’t truly undying.

He could maintain his awareness for now, but the seed’s roots were spreading deeper with every passing moment. His revival had obviously sped up the process. He barely had a few hours of freedom before his soul succumbed.

How tragic. A God becoming a slave to a mortal.

“You are correct,” he finally replied. “I cannot remove the spell, but I do not wish to be a slave. You seem to know magic, little beings. Do you have a way to break this curse?”

The previous speaker thought for a bit, then said, “If you destroy the Wizard Order, there will be nothing to be enslaved to, right?”

Desistos considered it, then nodded. “That is reasonable. I shall uproot them completely.”

“Woo, great!” The tiny being, the only one that dared speak freely, cheered. Desistos found its tiny joys amusing. “If your Godhood doesn’t mind, I have a suggestion for after that, too.”

“Speak.”

“Well, you see, the world is a wonderful place. After destroying the Wizard Order, how about you enjoy the scenery instead of ruling with an iron fist? I’ve heard there are flying whales, undead circuses, archipelagos with exploding birds, and many other beautiful sights. At least, I like them.”

The other tiny creatures simply kept getting shocked, and Desistos ignored them completely—repetition was boring.

The suggestion sounded fine. His place was to rule the world, of course, but when one was immortal and nigh invincible, why rush? Why not enjoy himself, first? The tiny creature had painted an interesting picture. Of course, Desistos should tour his domain before assuming leadership. He would enjoy it.

At that moment, he had a suspicion of why he lacked memories. Perhaps his previous self had seen everything the world had to offer and gotten bored. Before dying, he could have wiped out his memories to allow himself to relive the world.

However, this suspicion was quickly refuted. Desistos was a God. Even though his soul had dispersed on death, an identical one—without his memories—could easily be constructed by drawing in large amounts of ambient death energy. After all, his soul was just the essence of death magic.

In other words, the previous Desistos had died, and he now had a brand new soul that was identical to the previous one at birth.

This was all very simple.

“Very well. If I can destroy the Wizard Order, then I shall tour the world,” he declared. Inwardly, he was excited. The world was intriguing, even for a God—after all, a place that could birth him would not be simple.

He also intended to find the others of his kind. Eternal loneliness would be unpleasant, and tiny beings could never be his equals.

“Excellent!” replied the amusing tiny being. “Wait… If?”

“Yes, if. The slave seed is rooted in my soul. If I can perceive the Wizard Order as still-existent, I shall have to follow it. I must destroy its entirety in a matter of hours. A worthy challenge for a God.”

“I see… Then, you should probably hurry.”

“Tell me, tiny beings; where are the headquarters of this Wizard Order?” Undue haste was unbecoming of a God.

The amusing tiny being looked troubled, but the whale spoke up. “If you head straight west, you will sense a large collection of magical power. That’s their headquarters; a cathedral on a hill.”

“Good.”

Desistos suddenly dipped its tail into the death lake below, and instantly, the entire world seemed to shudder. The lake trembled before getting sucked into his body at a terrifying speed, completely drying up in a matter of seconds. A mile-wide crater was revealed, dotted with innumerable stone formations. A few were even carved into intricate statues, surrounding an area at the north-eastern side, but Desistos only spared it a glance before turning westward. Without a word, he flapped his wings and took off.

In his mind, he had already forgotten about the tiny beings. They were completely inconsequential. He only hoped to destroy that puny organization in time so he could travel at ease. After all, the current Desistos was a newborn God, a child, and he was filled with curiosity.

He was excited to explore the world.

The Mists parted as Desistos flew. A few minutes later, he escaped them, found himself in clean air, and darted westward at speeds unimaginable to most mortals.

***

Desistos’s wings carried such strength that their flapping almost sent everyone flying. They hadn’t even had time to recover from the near-instant dehydration of the death lake. Jerry had unsteady footing on the whale’s head and actually went flying. His landing on the rocks far below would not be pleasant, but Axehand jumped and caught him in time.

“Thanks, big guy,” he said. Axehand grunted.

“Kid!” Ozborne flew beside them as they landed on a stone island. Near the center of the lake, where they were, the crater extended a hundred feet down. “We—This—This is horrendous!”

“Hey, Ozborne.” Jerry smiled. “Horrendous? He’ll destroy the Wizard Order. That’s a good thing, right?”

“It’s a Primordial! A Primordial has been revived! This is disastrous. The world was in ruins when they ruled. If he destroys them, we’ll enter a dark era, and if he’s enslaved instead, the Wizard Order will finally achieve its goal and purge the world of non-wizards!”

“Oh,” said Jerry.

“Yes, oh. We should have stopped Arakataron. Damn it!”

The whale seemed extremely frustrated. Jerry couldn’t help but find it cute.

He had only known Ozborne for a minute or so, and that was in whale form and mid-combat, but he felt that Ozborne did not at all resemble the legendary wizard people had in their minds. He was fun to be around, and easy-going with his words, and full of rash feelings like most people.

In fact, Jerry looked forward to getting to know him, if the opportunity arose.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Seeing the whale depressed, he put a hand on its enormous flap. “Don’t beat yourself up. We did our best.”

“Our best was not enough.”

Axehand grunted in disdain.

“Your skeleton is disrespecting me, kid.”

“His name is Axehand,” replied Jerry, turning to Axehand. He listened to a message in his soul. “Hmm. Oh, I see. That’s a good idea.”

“What’s a good idea?” asked Horace, suddenly arriving at their side.

“Axehand says that, God or not, all problems will be solved if we kill him.”

“Kill!?” Ozborne flew away as if afraid to even be near them. “Kid, do you realize what you’re saying?”

“Yeah. I know he’s a God, and he seemed like an okay-ish person, but we can’t just let bad guys be. Still, Axehand was a bit absolute here… I don’t think we should kill him just because he’s strong. Maybe he’s a good guy, after all. Who knows?”

“It’s not our choice, kid. You do realize who you’re talking about.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, say you want to kill Desistos,” Ozborne steamed up, “how are you going to do that? He dried up the entire lake in a matter of seconds. That kind of energy is unfathomable. Then again, you obviously don’t think far ahead, given how you spoke to a literal God.”

Axehand glared. By now, his overcharging was beginning to wear off, restoring his bones to the pristine white they usually were.

Horace—who’d jumped beside them—spoke up. “Jerry thought ahead. He actually lied to Desistos. He said the Primordials fell for unknown reasons, but we know it was due to Dorman’s campaign and using the Prisms, one of which we happen to have. If he didn’t hide that information, we would all be dead right now.”

Ozborne stayed silent.

“Exactly.” Jerry smiled. “Don’t take me for a fool, man. I’m a good guy, not a stupid guy. It all worked out.”

“I guess it did,” Ozborne grumbled.

“I thought so. And about Desistos… Since his memories are missing, he might develop differently than in the past. However, if he turns into a tyrant or is enslaved and used as a weapon, someone should do something about jim.”

“Yeah, the Wizard Tower. They’re the antithesis of the Wizard Order and possess two Archmages. If anyone can handle a rogue Desistos, it’s them.”

“Really? Where were they when Arakataron was reviving a God and plunging the northern half of the continent into a death curse?”

Ozborne fell silent. Jerry kept speaking.

“I do not trust that Wizard Tower. If somebody has to have power, let it be us.”

“What power, kid? We have a Prism, but that was barely enough to defeat one Archmage, and only because we were in an area of extremely high-density death energy—otherwise, with your current skill, you couldn’t even use it at all. You’re strong, sure, but you can’t compare to a God.”

“No problem. If I’m not strong enough, I can just get stronger. And if one Prism isn’t enough, let’s gather two. If two aren’t enough, let’s gather all of them!”

“Gather the Prisms?”

“Yes! Dorman did it, and he managed to defeat all five Primordials. If we can gather the Prisms too, I’m sure we’ll find a way to defeat a single one.”

“Gather the Prisms…” Ozborne was getting heated. “Do you understand what you’re saying, kid? I’ve been eavesdropping on Arakataron all along; the entire world has been searching for centuries but only two of the Prisms have been found, excluding yours. What makes you think you can find the rest?”

“Because we have a clue.” Jerry smiled, then recited, “Where the sun shines brightest, on the tallest peak, in the helmet of the king is the Prism you seek.”

“What’s that?”

“It was written where we found the Prism. There was a journal too, from one of Dorman’s companions. According to the journal, they hid the Prisms around the world in case the Primordials ever rose again, and it seems that each Prism contains some sort of riddle that points to the next one.”

“Are you planning to go around the world collecting all Prisms?” asked Horace.

“Yes. We just need to decrypt the riddle.”

“It should point to the Cloud Sea,” Ozborne said suddenly. “Where the sun shines brightest, on the tallest peak… That sounds pretty clear to me, given that the Cloud Sea is the only place in the world that’s above the clouds, and so where the sun shines brightest. Plus, it’s atop a giant beanstalk in the middle of the Jewel Sea—that is easily the world’s tallest peak.”

“The companion of Dorman we found was also from there.” Jerry nodded. “It’s settled, then. Our next destination will be the Cloud Sea. And, if that Prism is taken, let’s hope the riddle to the next one is intact. I suspect these riddles won’t be very easy to follow.”

“Marcus found the riddle that led us here in a pyramid at the Sea of Sands,” Horace pointed out. “That place was probably also the location of a Prism, but it had been discovered before and resealed. It must have been one of the two Prisms that have been found. Who has it?”

“The Wizard Order has one, and the Tower another,” said Ozborne, “but I don’t know which ones they are.”

“Very well. Let’s take care of Shelia first—we don’t want people disturbing her rest—and then head directly for the Cloud Sea. How lucky that we have an airship. Are you coming, Ozborne?”

The whale quickly shook its head. “I’m too old for these things, kid. I don’t fancy your chances of success either. When you revive me, as you promised, I will go to the Wizard Tower and inform them of what’s going on, though they should know most of it already.”

“They know? How?”

“Sense the magic, kid. Even you should be able to feel it. There can only be one Archmage at a time for each school of magic, and Arakataron just died. The essence of necromancy is back in the world and up for the taking.”

Jerry closed his eyes. He did feel something different, a sensation that had been present since the very moment Arakataron got squashed. The magic in the air felt more active, more full, in a way, as if it contained some power that could be grasped, if only you knew how.

The race for Archmage was on.

“I see,” he said, reopening his eyes. “They know Arakataron is dead, and I suppose Desistos won’t be too discreet either.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, suit yourself, Ozborne. I’ll revive you in a moment.” He turned to Horace. “What about you, Horace? Will you join us?”

Jerry asked this question with hope. Unlike Ozborne, he was already friends with Horace and really wanted him to come along. He knew that Horace wanted to join, too; he had been enjoying himself during the entire trip, despite the life-threatening dangers, and Jerry understood he’d been bottling up his desires for a very long time before they met him.

Horace wanted to travel and see the world, as he’d said. He wanted it deeply. If they could go together, that would be ideal, but…

Horace hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “Impossible,” he said. “I would love to come, but I have a duty to protect my people. Now that Arakataron is dealt with, so is the greatest danger to my tribe. I must return to them.”

“But you want to come, not stay.”

“Don’t push me, Jerry. My duty is above my personal desires. I cannot.”

Jerry sighed. “Very well. We’ll drop you off on the way.”