“Elonia!” Eric jerked awake with a heaving gasp, dodging artillery shells no more real than dream. He shuddered, taking a deep breath, finding himself half buried in a plush bed covered in soft furs and silken sheets. An odd contrast that felt far too good against his skin.

“Elonia?”

He shook his head, taking in the magnificent domed chamber covered in furs, jewels, and battle trophies in classic barbaric splendor, boasting quite a bit of masterfully crafted woodwork studded with jade and gold filigree. He was struck anew by the fortune in wealth and excess all around him as the memories of the day before came rushing back. He couldn’t help but wince in memory of the sobs and screams that probably would haunt him for a long time to come.

Before visions of his sister’s despairing face trembled through his soul.

A jolt of panicked desperation had him lurching out of the bed.

He did his best to ignore his pounding heart and focus. To take deep breaths and find his center as he carefully, deliberately went over the runes that had blazed so brightly in his mind’s eye, just the night before. A flickering candle. The sun. The crack and boom of cannons endlessly firing on his sister’s fairy-tale palace, with sparkling ivory towers and deep blue minarets reaching for the heavens, a wonder protected by arcane wards that should have protected the wonder against any intrusion… those visions were important. Desperately so.

He had to focus on them, not just his sister’s desperate cries.

Even though he knew he had slept a hell of a lot longer than a single hour. Even though he knew it was broad daylight, and the absolute worst tome to embrace his blitzkrieg tactics.

He knew he had no choice but to press onward.

They were running out of time.

Quick as he could, he redonned the now perfectly clean aketon he found on the bed, smelling of vinegar and lemon, as if they had tried desperately hard to wash out the blood that wasn’t just soaked in to the fabric, but now in large part was the fabric, anchoring the essences of Flame and Dominion both. And just how vulnerable had he been, for the girls to leave it right beside his sleeping form, and he utterly unaware? He thought he had secured this room, before summoning near indestructible mithril hauberk, helm, and his full suit of essence infused scale armor to go over it all. Damn fine protection that still wouldn’t protect him from a direct hit from a cannon ball. He doubted even a Bronze, whatever the hell that even was, could survive that.

But anything less…

He shook his head before springing to his feet and racing out the former chieftain's palace fast enough that only a few girls caught sight of his passage, and only one thought to cry out, though whether in startlement, greeting, or something else, he had no idea.

All his thoughts were on making his way to Queensland just as fast as he possibly could, haunted by visions of a fragile kingdom on its last legs. Just hours, maybe only minutes away from becoming the bloody wrappings upon a monster’s triumph.

And all he had to think upon was the fifty broken souls he had rescued in Greystone to realize what his sister’s fate, what the fate of hundreds, perhaps thousands of female elves would be, if Eric didn’t move… and move NOW!

It was everything he could do to still the desperate voice pleading for his help, echoing endlessly through his soul.

To pull out both stick and candle, swallowing back his mounting anxiety before placing them on the still wet grass, and stepping back. Slowly back, one foot at a time.

To take a deep breath.

To focus.

And say just three words that could reshape the world.

“Ignis. Unus. Hodie!”

The wet branch did nothing but fizzle. Maybe. For the barest second.

Eric swallowed, ignoring the twisting in his gut.

He had suspected… but now he knew, just how limited the tiny surge of potency he had infused was. He was desperate for it to do more.

He took a deep breath. All but glaring at what should be a perfectly dry candle, having deftly claimed it from the dolled up girl dressed in nothing but silks and desperation, gazing at him with too big eyes and the most hopeful of smiles outside of his door. The surprised girl earned the gentlest peck on her now flawless cheek as he claimed her candle. A sympathetic squeeze of her hand and the friendliest of waves and he was off, unable to comprehend… not wanting to comprehend, the sobs at his back.

So he took a deep breath, and stared at that candle. Racing one hundred yards back.

Two hundred yards back.

This time infusing even less mana than he had before.

“Ignis. Unus. Hodie!”

Eric blinked, crashing to his knees when the candle sputtered to life with the tiniest of flames.

Before going out in the misty rain just a second later.

But that was fine.

More than fine, Eric thought, his heart racing with something besides ever mounting dread as he summoned his undead legion with a squeeze of his serpentine ring.

“Surge, centuria! Imperator imperat tibi!”

He did his best to ignore the startled shrieks and sobs behind him as his legion burst free of the ground by his feet in less time than it took to say the words that summoned them, all of them saluting him fist to chest, the air roaring with their cry.

“Ave Imperator! Abedimus!”

Eric swallowed, gazing intently at his soldiers’ armaments. Their equipment. Somehow preserved in pristine condition even if his furious swings had originally shredded them to pieces. As if the magic of blood, death, and life itself, had taken a pristine shot of their accoutrements the instant Eric’s eyes had first met their own.

An imprint that was now theirs for eternity.

Including sturdy bayoneted muskets, cartridge boxes, and the powder horns each and every musketeer had secured with straps to his hip and back, in addition to the half helms and mail hauberks that all together made the orc tribes serious contenders, even if most weren’t even classers at all.

Eric’s heart began to race. Wondering if he dared.

Deciding that yes, he damn well did.

Over two thousand soldiers were dismissed, collapsing like piles of dirt as he raised his ring, allowing them to once more embrace the eternal halcyon dream that was the reward of all revenants that marched under Eric’s banner in those moments that they weren’t reveling in battle by his side.

Mercy in death, that Eric would have never given them in life.

In reward for their service to him, which was now eternal.

Eric gazed at the remaining revenants for long moments as they spread out. Further and further apart. Too slow a pace as far as Eric was concerned as irreversible seconds ticked away into oblivion, his sister’s chances of surviving this day fading like grains of sand in an hourglass.

“Stop!”

Eric took a ragged breath. Knowing damn well the cost of what he dared, and deciding he didn’t care. Refusing to waver his resolve to embrace all his stored potential in one go as he felt the System’s alien hands caress his mind once more. Before screaming with the hideous insights 27 points of Arcane Potential blazing to life in his brain in a single endless perfect moment of time brought him... points he had most definitely not placed in harmony with the minimal effort he had exerted with his arcane powers so far. A pathetic number of spells to ever be worth that surge of enhancement, as he screamed the words that would change everything.

Or nothing at all.

“Ignis! Plures! Hodie!”

Eric crashed to his knees as Mana and Qi Pool both crash 750 points in tandem. Tearing off his helmet, he scratched great bloody grooves into his scalp that healed within seconds, driven insane by the itching within his mind, crawling with silvery worms of insight. As if his brain had been reforged, alien and strange.

A brain that was now and forevermore his own.

Had always been his own.

Runic Lore is now Rank 7!

You have successfully placed 27 Points into Arcane potential!

Arcane Potential is now 99!

Mana Pool is now 1188!

Enhanced Mana Pool, skill increase, and Sylvan heritage means that all runic chants now enjoy increased chance of success with reduced risk of backlash!

Willpower check made!

Critical Success!

You’re still yourself!

(You think)

And we absolutely 100% Agree!

Eric chuckled bitterly at the System snark so loud it had drowned out whatever else he might have heard, stumbling to his feet and forcing his trembling limbs to mount his worried-looking lead tusker, oddly gentle eyes meeting his own.

Eric forced a smile. “It’s okay, boy. It takes only minutes for me to fully recharge my Mana. Because it turns out I’m a fucking elf, after all. I’ll cycle my Qi while riding your back, and I’ll be right as rain before I put try embracing that madness in battle.

His mount snorted before giving a too cognizant nod, trotting off with a single other tusker behind them, none of them giving the shattered bodies left behind a second look as Eric released their souls from his eternal service, for all that he still had one more Necromantic Perk to Play.

You have entered Queensland Territory!

Warning! This is the Sylvan Alliance Territory! Sylvan alliance holds ONE (1) territory: Currently under siege. Sylvan Alliance is now RED to All Orc Factions.

Sylvan Alliance is now RED to All Goblin Factions.

Sylvan Alliance is now RED to All Ogre Factions.

Sylvan Alliance is now RED to All Mind Reaver factions!

Do you wish to declare war against Sylvan Alliance?

You have chosen NO!

Do you wish to Ally with Sylvan Alliance?

Ties of Blood Detected!

Should you choose to Ally with Sylvan Alliance, you will be considered a Vassal of the Sylvan Alliance with all the privileges and perks such entails!

Warning! You will be unable to advance along the Path of Oblivion if you would bow your head to any lord or master, even your twin sister!

You have DECLINED Elonia Silver’s Offer of Alliance.

You have Declared VENDETTA Against All Mind Reaver Factions!

You have Declared VENDETTA Against All Ogre Factions!

(You have already declared VENDETTA against All Orc and Goblin factions!)

You have achieved the diplomatic state: Unified in Hate!

(You may not be allies, but Sylvan’s enemies are now your own!)

Eric’s eyes widened as he gazed upon a sight right out of his grandest dreams, and his worst nightmares.

A city of lush green gardens he could see even from here, between magnificent cathedrals of magic and wonder, alongside endlessly soaring towers of ivory and gold. All of it connected by graceful arching bridges rich and green with blooming life, a thousand thousand blossoms dangling in the sky. And at the heart of it all was a magnificent castle soaring upon pillars of magic, wonder, and living dream.

He shivered at the sight of a structure clearly not of this world. And all the more fragile as it tied laws and concepts from two strikingly different realms, shining with colors never before seen under any sun.

And he somehow knew with a dread certainty that this heavenly palace served as a bridge between worlds, and the key to the deepest, most wondrous arcane secrets imaginable.

It would serve as the fulcrum that could reshape an entire world.

Eric understood, then, why no less than four alliances had joined in their declaration of war against his sister as he dared to race towards a force comprised of thousands upon thousands of orc infantry waiting at the ready in camps protected by massive earthen ramparts, over a mile away from the besieged city.

Because Elonia had in her possession an artifact that would change the face of this planet.

He could sense it, even from here.

A gate to a city a world away. A prize Eric had no doubt had required unfathomable efforts and resources to secure.

The real reason, Eric sensed with a frisson of insight, why so much effort had been invested in a seemingly insignificant arcane school, several territories away. As if Elonia had been investing heavily in arcane research, very very early on, in the hopes of discovering the keys needed to unlock that gate between realms, an artifact shimmering so gloriously, so enticingly before the entire world.

An artifact her many enemies sure as hell weren’t going to let her unlock the secrets of.

Not when they could unite to wipe her clean off the board, and claim the prize for themselves.

Eric clenched his jaw, feeling in that horrifying moment of wonder and awe a terrible sense of guilt that tore right at the heart of his soul.

Finally understanding why his mother had risked so much, trying to claim the prize he had made his own.

“Why the fuck didn’t you just tell me?” He cried out to no one at all, wiping eyes stinging with grit and smoke as he gazed helplessly at a city and its wonders, so close to being unveiled.

Elonia and her forces were now trapped between a portal they would never have the chance to open, revealing a city they couldn’t even enter, now protected by little more than pristine ivory walls radiating the most exquisite arcane wards.

Wards that were coming desperately close to failing with each volley unleashed by dozens of 24-pounder long guns secured in vast pill box-like bunkers, less than a mile away from the walls they battered, over and again.

Dozens upon dozens of cannons in row upon row of stone shrouded bunkers. Even worse, between the two main clusters, Eric saw multiple cannon companies using the highly mobile bronze 12-pounders that Terran gunners seemed to have such facility at modifying to their heart’s content, Eric having three of those bizarre masterworks in his ES Space at that very moment, once more filled with his necromantic bulwark, now covered in thick steel plates and the grandest prizes he could find in those warehouses, their contents having flickered across his mind upon his capture and immediate surrender of Greystone. Even if he had returned most of the food he had claimed with his immediate change of plans.

He flashed a bleak smile as he raced at well over 100 MPH towards enemies who had clearly never heard of asymmetrical warfare.

He might have had to return the food stores, but these assholes weren’t getting any fresh gunpowder any time soon.

Though his smile turned to terror when exquisite senses spotted the whooping pair of Terran gunners using a pair of bronze cannons they had somehow modified into weapons that looked suspiciously like Mark 7 battleship guns, explosive shells roaring against one particular point in the silvery wall that, to Eric’s horror ,was now beginning to crackle and stutter.

Eric could all too clearly hear the young men whooping with joy. “We’re doing it, Jake! Fucking ivory crowns will be ours!”

And how it sickened him to spot the wide-faced smiles of the dozen orc gunners saluting the pair with fists, firing their own cannons at a far slower rate.

And the air roared with the fresh boom of what must have been nearly fifty 24 pounder shells launched in unison, as what sounded like ten thousand voices roared in triumph as the forcefield flickered out.

Before crackling back to life, just a second later, the entire battlefield now smelling of sulfur, horse piss and brimstone, visibility reduced to that of a foggy day, so much gunsmoke was in the air.

Eric’s heart lurched as he took in the massive arena of war he dared approach.

One single fool and his henchmen against an army of countless thousands.

Including dozens of siege cannons, most secured in pill boxes, and a full score of mobile bronze napoleons, a handful mobile with a classer’s deadly skills.

To say nothing of countless thousands of troops, almost all of them classless musketeers, and more than enough to absolutely obliterate any force that Eric had so far seen in this broken world, roaring and shaking their bayoneted weapons, just waiting for the orders to advance.

Eric grit his teeth and howled with the soul-freeing release of embracing madness without limit. Without fear. Without regret for what could never be changed.

Burning with a desperate hunger to crush his foes under a force his enemies could scarce conceive, to turn their conceits to sorrow, their hidden cards to ashes, to make them rue the day they had dared to cross his clan.

“Cry havoc, and let loose the boars of war!”