Lush grass covers the ground, and a cool breeze tickles the skin while the sun gently kisses the neck. Nur stands at the center of a field with a massive black carriage at rest behind him.

In a trance like state Nur gazes into space, his eyes sparking verdant green as he looks upon the unseen. He focuses his eyes and the world changes from one of grass and wind to one of lights in perpetual motion. Each light a piece of something more, something greater, and as Nur tugs on it with his spirit…something he can control.

Breathing deeply and freeing himself from the feeling of absolute control he focuses on the blinding chasm of golden majesty. Like a curtain draped from the heavens that burrows deep into the ground, Nur steps tentatively towards it even as every fiber of his being screams at him to run and flee.

“Majestic, is it not?” asks a voice from behind, the Master, who easily walks up to the border and through it.

“We can only bless our luck for being born with the gift of essence. Without it how else would we be able to behold the final gift of the late Emperor.” The master’s voice fills with remorse and touches the veil with his own gilded touch, causing it to pulse silently and shift greatly.

“Come now, slave, it will not harm you. It is just a simple deterrent and warning for things greater than you.”

Nur steps across the veil as directed but as he steps across it, he feels only one thing:

Weight

He shivers and shakes the feeling of helplessness from his body and asks,

“A deterrent for?”

“Something you will find out in time, assuming you live long enough” replies the Master simply, “but I am sure you want something else right now. It is the end of the month after all and the last month of our time together.”

He turns around and displays a serene smile,

“Now come, are you ready for our final fight? You never know! This may be the time you kill me and achieve the release you have been waiting for.”

Nur ignores him and walks past him, causing the Master faux bravado to dissipate.

“I already made my move earlier today” said Nur as a green smoke surrounds his hand as he taps his hand on the Master’s shoulder.

At first the Master is confused but soon a look of realization adorns his face,

“Ahhhh, I see so you tried- “

His sentence is interrupted as he coughs and spits out a glob of blood onto the ground. It is tinged with green and black.

“- Poison this time. A good effort but it really does not do your abilities justice. Not that you are even close to matching me in terms of combat capabilities though.”

The Master breaths in deep and puts one finger to his nose then breaths out rapidly and out flies a string of green and black goo surrounded by flecks of gold light.

“Truly a shame, truly. Anticlimactic for your 24th attempt at my life but one day the knowledge of poisons may aid you. I myself forgot I had books on it in my collection though, hahaha!”

The two continue on foot in silence. or a while before Nur perks up and aims his nose upwards slightly. Sniffing twice his nose scrunches slightly and he says, “Horses. Smells like before.”

The Master clapped his hands and asked, “The number?”

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“Nine”

“Oh! Then that should be an Outrider patrol and your ride to the Capitol.”

Nur catches a scroll from the air and looks over it with narrowed eyes.

“Slave contract”

“Correct that is the contract you will present to be registered as a freedman and this” said the Master as he then threw a small obsidian plaque to Nur, “represents your identity as an apprentice in the College of Pontiffs. Well, it will get in you in the door, what comes after that is up to you.”

Palming the small plaque, Nur looked upon it with the naked eye and saw it was completely blank. Narrowing his eyes and focusing on the essence of the world, another picture presented itself. A starry night presented itself to his eyes, twinkling bits of essence that he had only ever witnessed floating high above him completely out of reach.

Shocked for a moment, Nur looked up, saw the same essence, and tried to extend his own reach upwards but found himself completely unable to.

“Only someone who trained in null and has the ability of that old monster in the College could possibly replicate such a badge,” explained the Master, “so it is useful as a token of admission. There is only one Pontifex Maximus so there is little chance of forgery.”

“Pontifex Maximus” repeated Nur as he rolled the term on his tongue, “Stronger than you?”

A mocking laughter resounds in response.

“Of course, he is stronger than me. I may not look it, but I am quite young. Not to mention that man…” the Master grimaces for a moment and pauses his words but recollects himself after the moment passes, “that man is something else. A true citizen of the Republic through and through as well as one of its pillars that holds it up.”

A small green haze appears at Nur’s feet, that receives the two items and carries it off slightly into the distance. He then draws the short sword at his side and examines it carefully, the Master’s back turned watching the distance carefully.

Pointing the end towards the unsuspecting back and holding it with both hands, he closes his eyes and enters the world of essence. Revolving verdant accumulates at his feet, a clear path is traced from where he is standing to just behind the Master. Stepping forward the grass below his feet curls and hardens, carrying him along without so much as making a sound.

Carefully he moves, his breathing, his heartbeat and subsequently his pulse slowing down to a crawl. Until he is just before his foe, his muscles expanding and veins wriggling as essence pours into them and bursts silently.

A single stab forward, just over the accursed heart, is launched from his bulging muscles that cuts through the air with a hissing whine.

Weak golden light meets it with resistance, shattering layer after layer as Nur advances his blade. The first several layers are shattered with ease. The middle meet some slight resistance but with the first audible huff and force borrowed from his legs, he pushes forward.

All the way to just barely above his target, his sword stuck trembling at the final layer. So close he is that the clothes above the target were cut, yet no skin was punctured.

Nur’s face, originally a cold mask of indifference, frowns slightly as he tries to pull his sword back but fails to do so. His arms weakly fall and he sighs in defeat as he looks over his now useless arms that are now easily visible through his long-gone shirt.

“Even if I stand completely still, it is hopeless.” Says the Master, his biting words like needles digging into Nur’s skull, “Even if I only defend, it is still hopeless. Even if I allow you to build up your essence to such a reckless and self-harming degree, it is still completely and utterly hopeless.”

A snap rings out and a thick golden essence wraps around Nur who is stewing silently, his outfit repaired and his wounds stitched together.

“Any doubts of yours should now be put to rest. Your path is set.”

The two continue forward, walking in silence.

The sound of hooves hitting the ground sounds in Nur’s sensitive ears causing him to halt his steps and walk to the side of the road. The Master follows his movements and with a snap he glows bright like a second sun and when the light dissipates in his place is a far different man.

Gone is the fancy clothing and jewels and genteel look and in its place is a grizzly old man with a patchy beard. He pats down his leather armor and stretches his gauntlets over his hands, nodding to himself all the while.

He then reaches forward and pulls a sword out of thin air, sheath and all. He hands one to Nur, replacing his shattered sword, and then repeats the motion but keeps it for himself.

“Remember the story,” said the Master in a gruff voice, “we would not want your path to power interrupted by a few misremembered details, now, would we?”

The sound of the approaching horses could now be heard by even the mundane ear and in the distance several figures on horseback can be seen fast approaching.

Nur looks into the eyes of the Master and states,

“I will kill you. Two years, I have watched. Habits, cadence, smell, touch, taste…Unavoidable fate”

Breathing in deeply, his mind clearing from the bubbling rage that threatened to burst forth once more, he gives one last look at his captor and then looks away.

“We all have our purpose in life,” explains the Master, “duties that one must address above all else. In your pursuit of revenge, you will do exactly as I want. I look forward to my death.”

The two wait patiently, awaiting the riders as they close the distance.