Millenia ago,

Before the system,

When there were no gods:

An essence-enhanced kick to her chest sent Mathaku sprawling backward into the dirt.

With the wind completely knocked out of her, she couldn’t even manage so much as a groan or a whimper. Not only that, but there was a sharp pain in her chest — so sharp compared to the dull ache of hunger that served to keep her awake and alert through the long days and nights on the street.

“Maybe that will teach her not to steal.”

Mathaku would have laughed if she could — even though she knew it would incur more cruelty from the small gang of mage apprentices standing over her.

Their colorful silken robes shifted slightly in the gentle afternoon breeze. Finally hacking a cough, Mathaku glanced between them dispassionately.

The first — the enhancer who had done most of the beating — was familiar to her only as a repeated tormentor. What bothered her most wasn’t even his cruelty, but rather the smug righteousness of his expression.

Did he think he was some sort of hero for protecting the merchants from the homeless starving girl?

Then there was the other boy — scrawnier, less sure of himself — clearly a follower, seeking the attention and approval of his betters. While Mathaku was a flea-ridden dog of the streets, he was a pampered pooch slavering over his master’s adorations.

And then there was Luisa. Dear little Luisa, the shining girl, the diamond in the rough whom Mathaku and the other older children had adored and protected. When their precious darling had discovered her natural affinity for wind magic, everyone was so delighted. She would have a future that they could never dream of, and they were nothing but happy for her.

As she left with her new instructor, she had promised that she would return, that she would visit and bring gifts. For the longest time, they waited patiently. Perhaps she was simply busy — it was unthinkable that she had forgotten.

She hadn’t. But when she did return, she was different.

When Mathaku looked up at her now, her anger was not with the girl herself. No, her anger was with the world — the world that could take such a sweet think like Luisa and twist her into a monster.

When she spoke, her words were as cold and clear as ice.

“Let’s go. We wouldn’t want to damage her so much as to spoil any future fun.”

The leader stared down in silence for a moment before crossing his arms and snorting. “Fine.” Turning around with a swish of his robes, he began walking off. “You’re right, let’s go.”

The scrawny boy turned away as well — though not before kicking up a spray over her with a blast of kineticism.

Luisa was the last to turn away. Mathaku stared up at her unblinkingly. Finally, she averted her eyes and, her former friend turned away — casually discarding the small loaf of hard, overcooked bread that the trio had taken away from her. As it tumbled to the dusty earth, Mathaku finally choked a laugh.

She had the absolute crap beat out of her, and the baker still didn’t get his bread back.

Several minutes passed. The pain in her chest was now throbbing — she suspected she had broken ribs. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, and worst of all, she was still hungry.

A soft shuffling of footsteps alerted her to the arrival of a newcomer. Flicking her eyes up, she could barely make out the edge of what appeared to be a slender man silhouetted against the brightness of the summer sun. His shadow loomed over her

Mathaku sighed. It seemed the world wouldn’t be content to leave her alone for even a quarter of an hour — the man was clearly appraising her, and she had lived long enough to learn that anyone interested in a street rat was someone to be feared.

Finally, he knelt down, and she could see his face properly.

Handsome, in a young, roguish sort of way. Clean shaven, but worldly — possessed of a more down to earth, candid demeanor than the trio of mage apprentices. His nose was slightly too long.

Meeting his gaze, Mathaku remained completely still. She was in no condition to run — not even before she had been caught and beaten, if she were being honest with herself.

The young man leaned back. Out of the corner of her eye, Mathaku caught sight of him rapidly flicking his fingers in an intricate and delicate pattern that she would never be given the opportunity to understand.

He was a mage.

Mathaku silently wondered what he was doing — until the pain in her chest abruptly disappeared. The feeling of her ribs painlessly shifting and melding back together was disturbing to say the least, but she wouldn’t — couldn’t — complain.

A moment later, all of the other myriad aches and pains assaulting her body melted away — except for the ever present hunger.

Standing up, the mage silently offered her his hand. Taking it warily — for while Mathaku was grateful for the healing, she knew better than to trust the supposed benevolence of a stranger — she let him guide her to her feet.

“Are you alright?”

She eyed the stranger warily. Despite his youthful appearance, he was undoubtedly a powerful biomancer — to heal her so extensively in such a short amount of time was simply incredible.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

To be fair, it wasn’t as if Mathaku had ever had the good fortune to make use of the services of a healer before — but one didn’t need to be a mage to have a decent sense of how powerful and skilled practitioners were.

It was hard not to. They ruled the world, after all.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she lied as she brushed a lock of dirty hair out of her eyes.

The young man scrutinized her clinically. “You’re hungry.” It wasn’t a question.

Never letting him move out of her vision, Mathaku bent down and picked up the piece of burnt bread. Despite how utterly terrible it was — even by a starving street rat’s standards, the baker had fucked up — every instinct screamed at her to devour it in a single bite.

She resisted.

Glancing at the pitiful loaf in her hands, the mage snorted derisively. “Surely you can do better than that.”

Mathaku glared. She couldn’t help herself. “I make use of what I’m given, sir.”

Rubbing his chin, he remained silent momentarily. “Maybe.” He paused. “But perhaps it’s time for you to see how you can make use of what you take.” Turning his back to her, he beckoned for her to follow. “Walk with me.”

Glancing over her shoulder down to the opposite end of the rubbish filled alleyway, Mathaku hesitated. But she doubted she could outrun a well fed, vital young man who also happened to be a skilled mage.

Shrugging, she took a moment to regain her breath and hurried to catch up with him — and finally took a bite of her bread as well.

It was terrible, but it was food, and that’s all that really mattered.

“Tell me. How long have you lived like this?”

Mathaku furrowed her brow. “All of my life, sir.”

“A pity.” Rounding the corner, the young man brought them out onto the open street. The merchant district was bustling at this time of day — the perfect time to steal. “It is disgraceful that our world allows people like you to exist.”

What he said could be taken in two completely different ways — but by the tone of his voice, Mathaku was reasonably confident that he meant that people shouldn’t have to live on the street and steal from the more fortunate to survive.

A common sentiment that never seemed to change anything.

“I will take your help,” she said, “but I don’t need your pity.”

As they passed by a fruit stand — the wooden cartons overflowing with glistening produce in a dazzling array of brilliant colors — her companion laughed. His laugh had a friendly, casual tone, though there was a hidden edge to it that Mathaku just barely picked up on.

“What you need is a chance to reach your full potential,” he said, “and I don’t pity you. I pity those who will stand against you.”

Mathaku frowned. “And why should anyone be afraid of a person like me?”

Instead of answering, he stopped and began casting a spell. Mathaku eyed him warily — she had to simply hope that he didn’t mean her immediate harm.

A moment later, her vision warped and darkened — and a moment after that, a wave of dizziness crashed over her. Steadying herself, Mathaku took deep breaths, looked around, and tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

Slender treetops arced overhead. The ground was damp and mossy. From her position high up on the edge of the cliff, Mathaku scanned the horizon — and the sprawling city off in the distance below.

“Have you ever been out of the city before?”

Wide eyed, Mathaku whipped her head around to face the young man who had just teleported her. She almost couldn’t believe what had happened — she could probably count on one hand the number of people in the city who could wield spatial magic at all — let alone transport two people miles away.

Was he even really a young man at all?

“Who,” she gasped, “the fuck are you?”

He tilted his head. “Apologies for not introducing myself.” He extended his hand. “Mariono — first lich, oldest living mage —” he paused, “and your new instructor.”

----------------------------------------

Present day:

Mathaku flipped the journal closed and ran a hand through her long dark hair. Or rather — Stella’s hair — that was apparently the name of the young woman who had sacrificed herself to become the goddess’s avatar.

The journal wasn’t particularly insightful — either it contained no details of cult activities, or the young woman had concealed the information in plain sight. And there was cult activity — Stella had to have been a cultist in order for Mathaku to possess her, and the entire reason Mariono had been on edge for a week was the rise in cult activity.

Control your damn cultists, he had ordered Kraost — despite the fact that the infernal god had no more direct control over his supposed devotees than any of the other deities.

And then he had summoned not one, not even two, but three worldwalkers on what appeared to be sheer impulse. Doing so had cost him several weeks worth of essence production, significantly straining the entire system.

Mathaku tutted at the memory. The self-declared King of the Gods had envisioned a mechanism that could direct the flow of the entire local reality — with himself in control, naturally — and yet the system he and his loyal followers had cobbled together was a complete mess.

It was in continuous need of updates and repair, no one actually knew what most of it did anymore, and calling the profit margins of the essence that sustained its entire operation ‘slim’ would be laughably generous.

All in all, it was a miracle there hadn’t been a disaster yet.

Oh, it could survive a total shutdown or two — in principle — but even a minor breach would spell disaster in both the material world and the divine.

Perhaps it was time to rip the bandage off.

Standing up to stretch, Mathaku looked around the shop — temporarily closed, it seemed. From what she had gathered from skimming the journal, Stella had worked as the general store manager of one of the most successful alchemy and enchanting businesses in the small coastal kingdom of Nordia.

Why she had become a cultist of the deep was unclear.

The young woman had also left a short note for the goddess — explaining that most of the cult had recently relocated to the nearby dungeon town of Hockenfiel.

A ring at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Glancing over to the glass door, she saw a young man whom she suspected was a courier — based on his uniform — waiting patiently with his hands clasped behind his back. Frowning, she debated for a moment whether to answer.

Deciding that it might be a good opportunity to acquire additional information, she circled around the serving counter and opened the door.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he greeted her. “I have a message for a Miss Stella?”

Mathaku smiled. “I believe that would be me.”

Nodding, the young man retrieved a plain envelope from his satchel and handed it over. “No need to sign.” He paused as she took it from his outstretched hand. Once she had taken it, he stepped back, saluted, and disappeared in a blur of speed.

Closing the door, Mathaku stepped back into the shop and tore open the envelope.

Addressed to her — or rather, to her deceased host — the letter simply instructed her to close the shop and travel to the location in Hockenfiel as soon as possible. It was signed by Lord Skeil, the owner of the shop and a man whom Stella seemed to have thought highly of.

It seemed that everyone wanted her in Hockenfiel.

Mariono wanted her to investigate the cults — sure, the worldwalkers were the ones who were officially supposed to root out the cultists — but really, they were a distraction and a lure.

No, the King of the Gods had entrusted his first disciple to such a delicate task. Mathaku suspected that he was attempting to display a renewal of trust after her little rebellion so many lifetimes ago.

That decision would mark the beginning of a final mistake for one of them — and Mathaku would do her damnedest to not go out without a struggle.

While she may lack her divine powers while in the mortal world — Stella was only level fourteen — Mathaku still had millennia of experience.

The system had to go.

Mariono was nervous.

The cultists were the key…

It was time to travel to Hockenfiel.