Throughout his years of work, the darkness was the closest ally Jace trusted, existing as both his armor and his weapon, giving him the best offense and defense against the prey he was hunting. But at times it was also the closest enemy he never trusted, operating as the armor and weapon of his opponent, making him feel the fear of the darkness for himself.
Jace knew that the dark was nothing more than a tool, void of any true maliciousness, much like the weapons he used to kill his targets. Their true power was nothing without the mind to perceive and abuse it.
He knew that once his duty was done, he could decloak himself of everything the dark represented in his work, and step back once more in to the light of the world. He could consider the accomplishments he achieved in the darkness, and tell himself that he had made the world just a little bit brighter. As long as he didn’t fail, as long as he didn't fall, this thought would be his solace...
But he had failed, and he had fallen.
He failed to maintain the upper hand against the leader of the cultists, and had let the darkness become the weapon that struck him down before he had struck down his enemy. He had failed to succeed, and therefore he would not be given the opportunity to escape the dark world he had embraced.
He would never again see the bright world where common families could grow old together and enjoy their lives free of those who brought destruction; he would never feel the joy of eating delicious sweets baked by charming women who felt pleased when their work was praised; he would never again share the love he felt for that stubborn woman who devoted herself to her work.
All around him is nothing but a never ending void of black, surrounding him in a blanket of nothingness. He felt lost and confused; afraid and worried. What fate awaited him, and what chance did he have to survive?
Do you wish to survive? A powerful voice trembled around him as if it was speaking down from a higher realm. It felt as though the voice of a god had entered into the world solely to speak to him, and he felt compelled to respond to it.
Yes, I wish to live. The simplest answer, void of any servility or pleading. It was his humblest desire expressed in a single phrase, but filled with the meanings of life he had experienced over his years. He may have been a man whose job was to create death, but he was also a man who knew the value of life more than any other.
Even if you wish it, what power do you have, mortal, to survive the dangers of the world? The voice stirred the contents of his mind, challenging his will to live. What power did he have to survive?
His power was the power of a mortal, but also the power of his beliefs. Blessed by a divine being who guided the Platinum Shield, he had achieved a degree of power above that of other humans. Yet still he had failed; still he had been defeated; and still he had been regarded as weak.
In the end, I am human. I am no being of power, but I desire to live nonetheless. It was true after all, even blessed, he did not possess true power. Especially before this god, what right did he have to claim that he had power?
To acknowledge your own weakness is but one step on the road to power. You have been blessed, and it was power you obtained. Yet still it proved ineffective, and you met your demise. Power is the status of all life, and its value is undeniable. You still have your life for now, but do you still possess the power to keep it?
I do not; not against that man.
Then I ask you this, Jace Arcanis, will you accept the power I give you in exchange for your service? With it you may survive, but without it you are surely doomed.
To offer him power in his moment of trial, and demand his servitude in exchange; what a cunning god he is.
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For this chance at life, I will accept your blessing and serve you, but the heart is not always as willing as the mind.
(Chuckle) That is fine. Then take this power I give you, and accomplish the task I have for you. With this life, you must conquer the Inferno Cavern. Should you fail in the end, it will instead be the Inferno Cavern which conquers you.
As if his mind had developed a sense of feeling, he felt like he was being sucked into a powerful vortex. The strength of the waters crushed and pulled him like the titans of lore. Deeper and deeper he went beneath the waves, being pulled into an abyss he could not see.
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The naked body of Jace Arcanis was hung by the wrists off the ground, hovering above a large bowl resting there. The vitals of his body were slashed, the blood having already stopped pouring out of him.
Beneath, in the bowl, rested a large egg covered in the scales of a red dragon and marked by strange runic symbols which flashed every second with a demonic light. Magic circles spread over the floor around the bowl also illuminated, all pulsing with a strange rhythm. The blood within the bowl slowly began to drain until the bowl was empty of anything except for the egg.
The red draconic man stood in front of Jace’s lifeless body, smiling at his work. “How foolish all humans are, to accept power they cannot even comprehend. His mind is now mine, and his power will forever bend to my will. Do not worry my puppet, you will soon forget the very existence of that heart you mentioned.”
As though the chuckle of the god earlier was but an illusion, the same cackle permeated this physical room but with a more vile and sinister passion to it. It seems there is no god in this world who truly attempted to save Jace from the malevolent hands of this cult leader.
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In a room lacking in sunlight, Officer Mardia stands near a shriveled old man who studies the dagger and ring belonging to Jace. The room is cluttered with books, vials of liquids, various ingredients, and many tools of the arcane. To acknowledge that this room belongs to a very well accomplished wizard would not take the likes of genius to figure out.
The old man settles the objects into a well-used cauldron, igniting a purple flame which fills the room with bursting heat beneath it. Strangely though, nothing else in the room seems to feel the heat as even the papers nearest the flame do not ignite. The old man begins adding in various ingredients and stirring the melted mixture within the resilient cauldron.
The woman stands behind him, sweating from the scorching heat of the flames, wishing that she was granted the same benefits as the paper on the floor. Yet she chooses to endure, as the value of the information this man can give her is worth more than anything to her.
As the old man moves over to a table, it rapidly becomes cleared as everything on top of it floats out of the way and into other areas of the room, a map sprawls itself over the surface allowing him to study it carefully.
He walks back to the cauldron, but with a remarkably beautiful quill. The tip is extravagantly decorated in artistic runes and gems, and the feather possesses many vibrant colors. He dips the tip of the quill into the cauldron, and removes it with a coat of the mixture inside.
The quill seems to desire to move towards the map as the runes on the tip illuminate and the feather glows with the power of acquired knowledge. As he brings the quill closer, it settles into the far north of the map creating a black splotch on the paper.
“Hoho, your friend seems to be in a pickle he does. Home of the Evil Dragons; Lair of Monsters; End of all Adventures; The Chromatic Caverns.”
The woman’s face twists in confusion at first, but she quickly finds her determination. “It does not matter where, as long as I know how to find him. If I have to search the Chromatic Caverns, then that is where I will search.”
She soon leaves the wizard’s room as quickly as she came, not wasting any time by associating with him longer. The ring and dagger were bound to him, and the fact that they were able to return a location tells that he is still living. At the very least, she is not yet ready to give up on him.