Chapter 136: Above and Beneath the Clouds
High above the clouds of Bask, a faint ripple broke the night sky’s stillness as the three Magians emerged from a crack in reality. They sat on their intricately woven golden carpet, their expressions tense and their bodies weary. The journey through the chaotic layers of space had taken a toll, even on beings of their stature.
Time within those realms was fluid and deceptive, often stretching or contracting in ways that defied comprehension. None of them were certain how long they had been trapped, but the weight of their experiences lingered heavily in the air around them. Duskfang broke the silence, his voice sharp. “We’re lucky we escaped without encountering something worse. The layers between worlds... even for us, they are treacherous.”
Verdant nodded solemnly. “Even Magians are like insects to some of the oddities out there. We shouldn’t forget that.”
Stone, the eldest and calmest of the three, said nothing, his gaze fixed on the Bask region below. As they floated above the land, a mixture of emotions clouded his expression: relief, anger, and growing unease.
The three of them, as Magians, possessed a sense of mana far beyond that of Apostles or other practitioners. From their vantage point, they could feel the shifts in the world below, the currents of mana revealing changes that could not be seen with the naked eye. It was Verdant who broke the silence, his tone grim.
“I don’t need to see it to know the truth,” he said, shifting his gaze from below him to the border in the horizon. “The Central Region is moving forward with their plan. They’re sealing us off—preparing to abandon Bask to whatever rises from the earth.”
Duskfang’s face twisted with fury. “Those arrogant bastards,” he spat. “The Rollen Kingdom thinks they can play god. They think they can condemn us and get away with it. I swear, one day, I’ll make them pay tenfold.”
Stone raised a hand, his voice steady but cold. “Focus your anger, Duskfang. We don’t have time to waste on dreams of vengeance. The reality is this: the malicious aura deep within the earth has grown stronger. Whatever is stirring down there, it’s far beyond us. If the Earth Giant King awakens, even the three of us together wouldn’t stand a chance. It would be like... like children fighting a grown warrior.”
The weight of his words settled over them, a stark reminder of their limitations. Verdant’s green eyes narrowed, his mind racing. “There’s still the Stone Dragon,” he said, turning to Stone. “I know it’s old, and its power isn’t what it once was, but if there’s any way to reawaken it...”
Stone’s gaze flickered, a mixture of reluctance and hope crossing his face. The Stone Dragon was an ancient puppet he had discovered in a ruin many years ago, a relic of a long-lost age. In its prime, it had been a weapon capable of rivaling the might of a Stage Two Magian, but its fuel source—an elemental spirit—had been lost to time.
“You think I haven’t considered it?” Stone said quietly. “It’s been decades since I found it, and I’ve tried everything I can think of to bring it back to full strength. Without an elemental spirit, it’s nothing more than a relic—powerful, but useless. And even if it were whole, it might not match the sacred treasures of the alien races or the treasure of the Rollen Kingdom.”
Verdant pressed on, his tone almost pleading. “But even in its current state, it might give us a fighting chance. Isn’t it worth exploring? What other option do we have?”
Stone sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as the weight of leadership bore down on him. “You’re not wrong, Verdant. But the question remains—where would we even begin to find an elemental spirit today? They’ve been extinct for centuries.”
Duskfang, his fury momentarily cooled, leaned forward. “If there’s a chance, we need to take it. The alternative is waiting for the Earth Giant King to wipe us off the map. I’d rather gamble on an old relic than sit idly by and watch Bask crumble.”
Stone nodded reluctantly, though the uncertainty in his eyes remained. “Very well. We’ll explore the possibility of reviving the Stone Dragon. But even with it, we’ll need more than brute force. If we’re to survive what’s coming, we need to be smarter, faster, and more united than ever before.”
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
The three Magians exchanged grim looks, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily on their minds.
The three Magians delved deeper into their strategies as the golden carpet floated above the Bask region.
Duskfang, his fiery temperament slightly tempered by the urgency of their situation, broke the silence. “It’s not impossible that remnants or traces of elemental spirits still exist somewhere,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “When we return, we should alert our Apostles about what an elemental spirit is and instruct them to search for any signs. It’s a long shot, but given the stakes, it’s worth the effort.”
Verdant nodded in agreement. “We don’t know how much time we have before whatever lies beneath the earth reaches the surface. If we can buy even a little time, it may be enough to find a lead—or to explore alternative power sources.”
Stone, though quiet, inclined his head. “Agreed. We’ll have to consider every option. And remember, we are no longer aligned with the central region or the Rollen Kingdom. From now on, Bask is our responsibility. Its fate rests in our hands.”
The weight of Stone’s words hung in the air, but the three shared a moment of solidarity. Duskfang, leaning back slightly, let out a dry laugh. “If we survive this calamity, we should formalize that independence. Bask for its people—not under the shadow of the Rollen Kingdom.”
The idea sparked a determination in all three. There was no denying it now: they would fight for Bask, not just against the calamity but against the lingering dominance of the central region. If Bask could overcome the imminent threat, it might finally stand as its own entity, free from the condescension and prejudice of its so-called allies.
Their conversation shifted to their personal research, as each Magian shared their efforts' progress—or lack thereof.
Verdant spoke first, his tone laced with both pride and caution. “I’ve been experimenting with a ritual that allows communication with a fallen being from eons ago. Its memories and thoughts are fragmented, lost to time, but its knowledge remains... accessible. Dangerous, but valuable.”
Stone’s eyes narrowed. “You’re willing to risk it? That sort of communion has broken minds before.”
Verdant nodded. “I wouldn’t take this lightly, but my light affinity has made the process more manageable. In fact, my work on the Verdant Light has shown promise. The light’s poisonous allure could potentially extend its influence to spirits in the future, but I need to refine the technique.”
The others acknowledged his efforts with solemn nods. Duskfang leaned forward, his voice quieter now. “You already know about my research into the void. What we encountered in the rift was a mere fraction of what’s out there. I still need time—years, even—to make meaningful progress, but the potential... it’s limitless.”
He glanced down at his shoulder, still marked by the wound from the King’s golden spear. The faint glow radiating from the injury caused his spirit to waver, a constant reminder of the gap between their power and the King’s. “Before I can do anything significant, I’ll need to recover fully. This wound... it’s more than just physical.”
Finally, Stone spoke, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. “I’ve made little progress on the Stone Dragon itself. As you know without an elemental spirit, it’s a dead end. Instead, I’ve shifted my focus to the puppet-building techniques I derived from it. While nothing I create will rival the dragon’s power, I’m hoping the process might lead to a breakthrough—a way to reignite its core.”
Duskfang and Verdant nodded, understanding the value of such an effort. Even a fraction of the Stone Dragon’s might could give them real fighting chance.
The conversation turned to the political landscape of Bask. Verdant’s expression darkened slightly as he spoke. “Some of the older families in Bask might see the current situation as an opportunity. The instability could lead them to act out, trying to reclaim influence or power.”
Duskfang let out a sharp laugh. “Those relics of the past? Do they think it’s still the Age of Old? They’re nothing more than echoes of what they once were. They’re no match for us.”
Verdant, ever cautious, replied, “Perhaps not. But they could still pose a threat to our Apostles. We can’t afford to underestimate them, no matter how weak they appear.”
Stone, ever the pragmatist, added, “We’ll keep an eye on them. High-risk families can’t be allowed to disrupt our plans—or endanger Bask further. In addition, we should discuss Bask City as the new capital in addition to developing some of our towns and villagers further, allowing them to understand magic. We should also broaden our recruitment, no longer limit invitations through recommendations and traditions and instead, we shall scour for talent.”
As the discussion wound down, a somber mood settled over the three. Duskfang broke the silence, his tone resolute. “The road ahead will be difficult. But that’s the way of Bask, isn’t it? Adversity shapes us. It’s why we’ve always refused to betray our Apostles or our people. We’ve bled for this land, and we’ll continue to fight for it.”
Stone’s voice was firm as he responded. “We are the only humans from Bask to have reached the level of Magians. We won’t abandon our homeland for a region that sees us as lesser. This is our land, our people, and our fight.”
The three Magians shared a moment of unity, their resolve hardening. Bask was their home, and no matter the odds, they would stand against the calamity together. Above them, the stars seemed distant and uncaring, but below, the earth’s malice continued to stir, a grim reminder of the challenges to come.