-Broken Melody: Iron Will-
-Arc Start: Remnants of Steel and Spells-
It was a beautiful night.
The twin moons Runa and Rona hung overhead, one a perfect white pearl that took up a large portion of the sky, the other a distant ruby dot that could have been mistaken for a particularly large star.
Meanwhile pale white rings that stretched across the sky, the remnants of what was once the planet’s third moon, shimmered like diamonds as the light of its still living sisters reflected off them.
The light of stars from outside the solar system danced and bent with the debris of shattered ships and broken worlds far above. Timeless relics of ancient conflicts, forever just out of reach of those left behind.
But far below the perfect moonlit sky, the world was burning.
The cries of the dead, dying, and damned wailed over a backdrop of unending gunfire. Artillery shells shook the ground, meeting spells of every color wreaked havoc- tearing the world asunder in their rage.
A fighter jet streaked by overhead, its engines burning themselves out in a desperate attempt to outrun a golden homing spell that blitzed after it.
Gleaming knights in enchanted silver armor charged forward behind a wall of shields, braving the trench guns, and advancing relentlessly even as their numbers dwindled from mines and armor piercing bullets.
A knight crashed through the wooden boards and barbed wire, his momentum carrying him into the trench with enough force to splatter the woman his shield impacted onto the wall. Handgun and rifle rounds bounced uselessly off his armor, and with a lunging swing of his sword the three soldiers around him, clad in gray flak vests, fell to the ground in halves.
He flicked his blade clean of blood and readied to charge further into the trench line, before being promptly erased from existence by a missile.
As the two armies clashed, staining the ground red, and dooming thousands to gruesome deaths, a figure pulled itself out of the burning wreck of a destroyed tank column.
The silver haired woman fell out of the vehicle and to the ground with an agonized cry, landing on her broken arm with a gut churning crunch. She grit her teeth and forced herself to her feet, ignoring the pain and grievous injuries that wept rivers of blood from all over her body- including the empty socket of her left eye.
Once standing she wavered for a moment, the rubber bottoms of her half-melted boots almost slipping in the mud, before steadying herself and looking around. It felt unreal, almost like a dream. After everything she’d been through. After all these years. Was this it?
Her best plans, foiled effortlessly. Her army, being destroyed around her. Her friends and companions, slaughtered like cattle. Even her weapons, lost to the opening attack of an ambush she’d walked head first into without even realizing.
It was… It was…
She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood, and forced back her tears. Instead she lifted her head up high, towards the moons, and glared with all the hate and spite she had at the witch responsible for all of her suffering.
Floating with a radiant golden light, draped in precious metals with no regard for armor, and with a waterfall of glowing emerald hair that was so supercharged with raw mana that it floated the int wind like plasma, was the self proclaimed “goddess” herself, Verna.
A high explosive tank round struck her center mass, engulfing her in a bloom of fire. But a second later the smoke was blown away to reveal her untouched, in the same position she had been before, with her arms crossed under her chest, as if she hadn’t even noticed.
The goddess blinked and, without any prompting, looked down on the silver haired woman with a smirk.
The woman shook with rage at the smug, condescending, and self assured arrogance in those molten gold eyes.
With her left eye gone, her arm broken, her vision swimming from blood loss, and kept on her feet by nothing but spite, the famed leader of the resistance coalition army unhooked the dented handgun from her belt, and pointed it skyward.
-Iron Will-
-Many Years Previously-
The military training facility in the east edge of the capital was an enormous thing, a sprawling complex of metal buildings, bunkers, and training fields that pulled future troops from all across the Kingdom of Nethar.
Troops in dull gray uniforms marched to and fro, rusty tanks rumbled into storage houses, orc slaves in thick chains carried heavy crates, and a small horde of trainees jogged around the perimeter with their overweight sergeant bringing up the backline in his motorcycle while yelling at them to run faster.
Far above these buildings, atop a small mountain was the High Officer Academy, which towered over the dull unpainted metal buildings below with its smooth marble pillars, its deep blue flags hanging off every other wall, and a pristine stone brick pathway that led up the mountain to a set of huge wooden arches that opened up into a lush garden that served as the entrance to the academy.
Wooden arches, wooden doors, wood in general, used frequently as decoration! And the garden! Oh the garden, not a little thing either, but an entire courtyard filled with lush grass, towering trees, and flowers of every color.
A garden that needed hundreds of gallons of water set aside every day specifically just to keep the thing alive, in the capital of a nation that was surrounded by nothing but dessert in every fucking direction as far as the eye could see.
The sheer amount of snooty rich person aura this castle, disguised as a school, gave off would be enough to make anyone other than the Kingdom’s nobility gag from just how thick it was in the air.
But then again that was exactly who this academy was targeted towards. The nobles and families of name who wanted to send one of their children to get all the vast prestige of a safe and cushy commander role, where they could play politics and get free medals in the rear line, while never having to even see the battlefield.
Needless to say, every man and woman down on the ground below would often stare up at the palace on the hill, with a mixture of hate and jealousy. Angry at the unfair treatment, but simultaneously longing for the fresh meals, hot water, and intentionally easy classes. Wishing with all their heart they could be up there instead of down on the ground.
Rein really wished she could be down there at the moment.
The large balcony she was on jutted out from the academy and hung over the edge of the cliff. Only a waist high stone wall, carved with beautiful engravings, was guarding anyone from wandering off the edge.
“Stephanie von Shiefurd. Please step forward and demonstrate what you have learned.”
A girl with sea blue hair stepped forward out of the line of 50 or so students, and sauntered her way to the middle of a stone circle with confidence.
She raised her arms, took a deep breath, and with a grunt of exertion pulled forward her magic. Glowing arcane runes shimmered to life in her hands, wavering slightly before linking together to form a circular array.
Standing around the edges of the circle, five professors acting as judges watched closely as a glowing barrier formed around the girl. She assembled it piece by piece, like panes of white stained glass being linked together, each inscribed with unreadable symbols.
Then, all at once, the barrier disappeared.
The professor on the far left, an aging man with a beard stubble, pulled a simple handgun from his belt, aimed it at Stephanie’s feet, and pulled the trigger.
An area of the shield became visible again, glowing violently as the bullet hit it, and the piece of lead bounced to the ground harmlessly.
Three more shots echoed, and the shield shattered to pieces after the fourth impact. As it shattered, the girl fell to her knees, gasping for breath.
The man in the middle of the judges, the headmaster of the academy himself, stroked his graying beard in thought for a moment before nodding in approval.
“Pass.”
The girl let out a weak cheer and stumbled her way back to her spot in the student line.
Rein bit her lip as she sideyed the relieved student. She’d known there was going to be some semi impressive magic shown off for this test, but still, wasn’t that a bit overkill?
“Wilhelm von Zollern. Please step forward and demonstrate what you have learned.”
Her gut twisted, not sure if it wanted to throw up or chug a gallon of water to cool down, as she nervously watched a boy with fiery red hair march forward and take position.
“It’ll be fine.” She muttered to herself under her breath. “That girl was just an overachiever, no one else should be able to-”
Her jaw dropped as the boy held out his hand, and a ball of fire swelled into existence. It wasn’t all that impressive, barely the size of his hand, but the lack of any runes more than made up for it- and going off the impressed looks of the teachers, they agreed with her.
“Pass.” The headmaster immediately declared with an air of amusement, without even taking time to consider. “And well done, lord Zollern.”
The boy beamed, and bowed to the headmaster before walking back to his spot in the line, heaving for breath, and with sweat pouring down his face, but his head held high in pride.
All the other students stood up straighter, eager to prove themselves, and aim for the same recognition. Rein swallowed back the whimper building in her throat, and questioned her life choices leading up to the moment.
“Isolde Von Falkenstein. Please step forward and demonstrate what you have learned.”
This was the final exam for first quarter students- the culmination of six months of lessons. If she failed this, it would drag down her already middling grades to dangerous levels. And considering those grades determined what rank and title she was assigned in the military once she graduated, she couldn’t exactly afford that.
“Ursula Von Berga. Please step forward and demonstrate what you have learned.”
Oh, she had done fine on the first part of the exam, a written essay on everything they had covered in the last half year, ranging from military command structure, to basic tactics, magic theory, and public speaking, but that was only half of the test’s grade. This was the second half, the practical, where you had to physically prove you had learned the material, and since this was an aristocratic school, that meant magical ability was always going to be involved somehow.
She flinched at a loud crack as a weak bolt of lightning shattered a glass target.
She hadn’t expected to do great on the physical, but it was only the first quarter test! She hadn’t expected full body barriers and fucking runeless casting!
“Rein von Schusswaffe. Please step forward and demonstrate what you have learned.”
The sound of that name- of her name, made Rein’s heart skip a beat.
Reluctantly she stepped forward, with much less confidence than any who had gone before her, but kept her head high and a mask of determination to hide the boiling pot of emotions in her gut.
As 22 years old, Rein of house Schusswaffe took a breath as her boot touched into the stone circle, and hoped to every god, living or dead, that her plan actually worked.
Of the five men and women in front of her, she focused her attention on the only one of any importance to her grade.
Headmaster Zikov wore the same deep blue robes that all faculty members had on, but wore a necklace with a golden pendant that radiated magical energy, and a silver band on his bald head which marked him as the headmaster. He stood with his arms crossed across his chest, and stared at her intensely with one lavender eye, and one cloudy gray one.
Her jitters acting up, Rein quickly did a once over of her appearance to make sure her uniform was still in order.
A long sleeved black coat, that hung to her knees, with silver lining along its edges, over a white blouse, which itself was tucked into a sturdy belt. Black dress pants folded into dark brown leather boots, with thick rubber soles, built thick and sturdy to hold up against the rugged desert sand, and the obsessive polishing they had to endure.
Silver hair bordering on white fell to the waist of her back, framing a pale white face, and light blue eyes.
Rein pulled her thin white silk gloves off, put him into her pocket, and held out her hands, bringing them together like she was grabbing ahold of an invisible ball.
Runes flickered to life between her palms, parts of an ancient and decaying arcane array that long dead gods had carved into reality itself to help their mortal followers more efficiently channel the mana in their souls.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The Great Array was slowly falling apart, had been for thousands of years, and she could feel that just by how sluggish to respond it was when she called out to it. It was a miracle, and a testament of just how powerful the old gods had been, that the thing even still worked after all this time.
Her mana, the pitiful amount she had, was eagerly gulped down by the ravenous runes and pushed through the system to fuel the spell she had asked for. What she lost in creativity, speed, and flexibility, she got back in efficiency. The amount of mana needed for the spell dropped dramatically, achieving results that would have normally taken decades of research and practice, with the use of the ancient system.
A ball of mist swirled to life in her palms and grew to the size of a small dog, before slowly condensing into a large block of ice that she had to use both arms to hold.
Rein tittered, swaying slightly from the sudden wave of exhaustion, but planted her foot down and forced herself back upright.
One of the judges to her left gave a small clap and smiled at her.
“Very impressive, Miss Schusswaffe, this is a vast improvement to what you demonstrated when you first came here.”
“Thank you Professor Hankier.” Rein nodded in appreciation, but her gaze never left the Headmaster.
The old man’s expression was unchanging.
“...Ice is efficient.” He grumbled with a gravelly voice. “Unlike an active spell like a burning fire or a barrier, ice only costs the initial sum of mana to pull together, which means you can put everything you have into one spell without having to keep some back to act as fuel. This is negated by the fact we’re in a desert, there’s no moisture in the air to draw from and freeze naturally, Ice magic here requires you to expend vast amounts of mana to form it yourself.”
“Yes sir, which is why I decided to use it to show just how far I have come.” Rein lied through her teeth.
“Unless there was a source nearby that happened to push water into the air.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Then you could just pull on that moisture, which would be the most cost efficient way to cast the most cost efficient magic with the Great Array lending even further aid.”
“That would be true sir. But as you said, we’re in the middle of the Obsidian Desert, the driest place on the entire planet, so I would have to use my own mana for this.” Rein said with so much fake certainty, she almost believed it herself.
Zikov didn’t respond. No one did. A tense silence fell upon the entire balcony.
…A silence punctuated by a steady dull hum in the background.
One by one everyone turned to look at the AC unit hanging just inside the door that someone had conspicuously left wide open.
“A good showing of an ambitious mind, but none of the skills that we are here to grade.”
One of the students, a girl with lavender hair, sniggered.
The headmaster stared at Rein with a blank expression, clearly expecting something, but as the seconds ticked by, and it became clear nothing else was coming, there was only one answer he could give.
“Fail.”
“Fuck.”
“And an additional point off for being sloppy enough to get caught.”
“Oh piss off.”
-Iron Will-
“Magic is derived from the old gods of The Highborn Court. Each was a physical manifestation of a concept of the universe. Time, Life, Entropy, Decay, Knowledge, they were fundamental pieces of reality given form. They drew power from the concepts that birthed them, but also through the worship of mortals. And so, as the number of mortals on the planet below increased, they granted magic, the ability to control small parts of their domain, as a gift to encourage more worship.”
The history professor read from the book word for word with all the enthusiasm of rotting roadkill, and dragged his piece of chalk across the black board with all the art skill to match.
The students were chatting amongst themselves, more or less ignoring the teacher. None of them cared about ancient history, Hell, not very many of them even cared about military theory.
It might have been a “military academy” but none of the students would ever actually see combat. These were all children of nobility.
Rein, however, didn’t have the same privileges as the rest of the students, she was one of the few brave or dumb enough to be aiming for a full career in the military. Although in her case, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice.
So she pushed back a yawn and continued to take notes on what was possibly the most boring lecture of all time.
A wad of paper bounced off the back of her head.
Rein glared over her shoulder to find the same lavender haired girl from the balcony sitting in the middle of a group of girls, all giggling at her.
She flipped them off and turned back around.
Another wad hit her head.
The girls giggled again.
It wasn’t fair.
Why did she have to be born with less magic than the average Grolferp? Literally outdone by a race of giant snails with an average total of three brain cells per group of four.
“Life’s not fair, snowflake.” Her deceased father’s words echoed in her head. “But it’s not fair to everyone, which makes it the fairest thing possible.”
Yeah well fuck that, she wouldn’t be “fair” either. She’d grab life by the balls and take what she wanted by force, even if she had to cheat a bit along the way!
…Because that turned out so well for her earlier.
Rein scowled, trying to ignore the hushed whispers and snickering behind her, and raised her hand to pull the teacher’s attention. Anything to get the whores to shut up.
“How does some magic creature made out of something like Time or Love get anything out of some poor homeless schmuck praying to them?” She asked the first question that came to mind, not really caring about the answer.
The professor paused and seemed as though he wasn’t sure if he should be surprised that a student was actually listening, or annoyed that someone had snapped him out of muscle memory and brought him back to reality before class was over.
“The old religious books say that the Highborn created a massive device orbiting the planet that harvests prayers and worship, and turns it into some kind of energy for the one being worshiped.” The old man answered. “The only thing that matches that description would be Avalon, the old throne of the Highborn, where they held their court meeting. But that was blown to pieces during the Apocalypse- you can see some of the larger pieces through a telescope at night. So it’s not clear if the system still works, but even if it did, there’s not exactly any Highborn left alive to use it.”
“Thank you sir.” She said, lowering her hand just in time to catch a pen with her head, much to the amusement of the girls behind her.
Rein grit her teeth and kept her mouth shut. She’d managed to keep her magical aptitude mostly hidden until the test had exposed her, now none of her peers took her seriously (not that she could really blame them), and her average had been thrown into the gutter.
“But it’s fine. It’s fine.” She told herself under her breath.
She was a second quarter student now. There were just three more six month blocks ahead of her, before she got a well paying job, or if she was lucky, a title of her own. Then she would never have to interact with any of these people ever again.
Another wad of paper hit her head.
…18 months of this crap, with only the weekends for breaks.
“Poppa said this was the best path.” She reminded herself. “Getting a job in the general staff- no matter how low on the totem pole, is safe, pays well, doesn’t require magic, and is respected.”
All she had to do was persevere another two years.
“Then I’ll be able to stand on my own two feet, and actually do something with my life.” Rein sighed, lettering her mind get carried away in fantasy.
The kingdom had only had border skirmishes and the occasional monster for the past 30 years, and thanks to a string of royal marriages between the largest states of the Obsidian Desert, the whole area was set for a rare era of peace.
It wasn’t like the world was waiting for some poor, magic-inept, and half disowned failure of a low noble house, to join the military, before it decided to end.
That would be stupid.
-Iron Will-
The world was ending.
That was the only way Alex could describe what he was seeing, as he watched the Jade Castle burn. The last remaining holdout of the rightful Silk Government, burnt like a bonfire, a beacon of flames that stretched miles into the sky.
What little remained of the defending army broke and fled at the sight, leaving the attackers to flood through the torn apart city unopposed. They looted anything of value, including citizens, clasping them in slave chains and throwing them like sacks of potatoes into trucks to be wheeled away.
Alex watched as three invaders dragged a screaming woman into an alleyway, and another made a game of taking pot shots at anyone who ran. They happily shouted out their count, and drank greedily from a stolen wine casket every time they “scored”.
“Th-This is madness.” He whispered as he sank to his knees.
Civil war? This wasn’t a civil war, this was anarchy! There’ll be nothing left when this is over! No winner! No king! Just dead men.
A tear slipped down his cheek. He tried to hold it back, real men didn’t cry, but then another broke free, then three more, and soon he was sobbing.
The weight of the situation threatened to crush him. Hiding behind the ruined corpse of his home, which had been turned into a blown apart grave of his wife and daughter during the first artillery barrage of the city. Watching as his friends and neighbors were enslaved and gunned down in the streets.
He slumped against the wall as a great hollow pit of hopelessness opened in his gut.
“I-I guess this is it then.” He muttered as he glanced at the pistol on his hip, wondering if he should rob them of the satisfaction of killing him themselves. “I always thought I’d have m-more time. I never finished my b-book. N-Never got to see M-Mary’s first s-steps.”
He nearly broke down into tears again as the distant sound of footsteps closing in hammered down the reality of the situation.
But,,, wait, that was from the wrong direction.
He was on the southern fringes of the city, the warlord had come from the north- attacking where the castle was. They were slowly trickling down, sure, but that marching was coming from further south.
He glanced up to see a line of soldiers marching towards the city from the south- was it a flank? Had a wing of the main force been sent off to encircle them and keep anyone from escaping?
As they drew closer he realized it was a different army from the one already attacking- one of the legions under the banner of any of the countless warlords and rebel leaders tearing at the fallen Empire’s corpse, but something wasn’t right, it was a tiny force. They couldn’t have numbered more than 50, a mere ant in comparison to the several thousand that had swept aside the defending army.
And that wasn’t the only strange part, they marched in sync with discipline, but they hadn’t the slightest bit of cohesion about them! Some wore bronze armor, some didn’t, others looked like they had scavenged any sort of hodge podge protection they could fit on themselves. Some had spears, some had swords, a few shields scattered about, and one even had something as old fashioned as a hunting bow. Maybe they were all just mages?
Actually, now that he was looking, he couldn’t spot a single firearm or cannon amongst their rank. And that banner…
A brilliant green flag, with a white crown on it.
Strange. Usually the warlords and wannabe kings tried to keep their flags vaguely similar to the old Empire, for some sense of legitimacy. If people were just making up their own banners now, then things had gotten bad enough they must have decided to just drop the act.
…The great republic really was dead, then.
The “army” continued to approach, and Alex made no move to get out of their way. He thumbed the pistol at his side and readied a spell in his other hand. He idly wondered if they were stupid enough to try their hand at sacking the ruined city as well. The current brutes didn’t seem like the type to share, and he didn’t think a fight would go down well for the new guys.
It wasn’t until they got within range of his pistol’s ability to take pot shots, that he noticed her.
A tall woman in a long white gown stood at the head of the tiny army, with a man in full enchanted plate armor at her side.
She surveyed the scene in front of her in disgust, with her nose upturned. Her eyes glowed like spotlights in the night, even being bright enough to illuminate her face as she looked around.
A long wave of hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be gold or green, floated ever so slightly from her back, the sheer amount of magical energy running through it causing it to almost seem fluid for brief moments before snapping back to a solid.
“To think they couldn’t even deal with these savages.” She scoffed. “And yet I was told this was the greatest city in the East.”
“It is, my lady.” The armored man beside her said.
“Then I’m disappointed. I came here to make allies, and yet I find nothing but sheep that need to be herded and protected.”
Slowly Alex raised his gun. They hadn’t noticed him yet, and that was the only thing he had going for him. That lady at the front seemed to be the leader, and was dumb enough not to be wearing armor, if he could kill her then her little band of goons might run away, and leave the south open again as a route of escape for civilians.
He aimed down the dinky metal sights, lined it up with her head, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger.
The gun barked in his hand, and the bullet flew true.
But the warlord’s head didn’t explode.
Instead the bullet caught fire as it neared her, smoking and tumbling through the air as the metal melted and deformed, only to splash uselessly into a glowing red puddle on her shoulder that didn’t even seem to bother her.
Her eyes shifted slowly over to him, and he felt as though the weight of a whole building had been placed upon him as the glowing orbs stared at him. His stomach twisted, and if he had eaten anything that day he would have soiled himself right there.
The lady merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow, before turning away, dismissing him like you would a bug.
She took a stance with both feet planted firmly onto the ground, raised her hands into the air, and then pointed to the hill the burning Jade Palace sat upon, where the bulk of the invading army was busy celebrating.
The air tensed like a spring, a flood of raw mana saturating it so thickly that each breath felt like he was inhaling a boiling sludge.
Then, there was a sudden, blinding flash of gold that burnt into his very soul.
People from miles and miles away all turned to look in awe, confusion, and fear, as a second sun bloomed on the horizon.
-Chapter End-
It was once said that any sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic. Such a phrase could have only originated from the Ancients, for who else would be bold enough to mutter such heresy against the Highborn Court at the zenith of its power?
Long ago, half of humanity was deemed Unworthy by the Highborn, stripped of their magic, and banished into the farthest reaches of the world. The reason for such, like most knowledge, has been lost to time and ash, but what is very clear is that they did not go quietly.
It is written into the world, carved into the surface of the planet. It is a story painted by shattered continents, broken moons, and artifacts of immeasurable power scattered like ashes in the wind- left to be found at random, and grant a king’s bargain to those most undeserving.
Be it out of a greater purpose, or simply spite, the Ancients proved their beliefs to be true, and built a civilization with technology that grew to rival the gods. They dared to touch the atomic fabric of reality, and chased the stars on trails of fire.
The resulting war of Apocalypse boiled the seas, burnt the land, and ripped the Heavens from the sky. Men, monsters, and gods were slaughtered as both sides destroyed each other in a bloodbath that tore open the planet, and permanently stained the oceans red.
The consequences of our fathers’ and creators’ mistakes now bare down upon us like the hanging scythe of death. The gods have long since fallen, and the unimaginably powerful civilization that slayed them is not but ruins.
We live in a world that reduces even legacies such as theirs to naught but dust, where horrors created to slay the divine wait in hiding at the farthest edges of the known, where frozen embers and burning snow fall upon the mountains of the dead.
A withered husk of a planet, with oceans so polluted they’re acidic, and constant meteor strikes from the broken moon hanging overhead to remind us of our ancestors' mistakes.
A world of dead gods and lost knowledge.
To whomever is unfortunate enough to get ahold of my work, I give here a warning.
This world is nothing but a rotting corpse pretending to still be alive. Many have tried to salvage the pieces and restore order, and every last one has failed. There is no happy ending for us at the end of the line.
Continue reading, if you wish, I would enjoy it if you did. I have collected in these pages a vast swath of knowledge from my travels to the farthest reaches of the walkable earth. But know that every name, animal, and culture written down is just as damned to rot away as the paper it is written on.
Judgment has long since passed, and Extinction is left waiting.
-Thaumaturge Ruem, on the opening page of his famous book “Vestige: a broken history of a broken world.”