"Lord Irwyn," an elderly looking maid reported to Irwyn soon after dawn broke “We have been unable to determine who organised the two attacks from yesterday, however, we were able to find a connection between them. Based on interrogations of the boy as well as the restaurant’s other employees we were able to determine that both were paid by a masked man in black ornamental gowns.”

“I see,” Irwyn nodded, he had not expected much in the first place, but if no further attacks occurred he would rather avoid creating another Alira “suppress all news that might even suggest that I was attacked. Any other details?”

“In fact, there is one more thing,” the maid nodded “there was a symbol on the mask which we couldn’t decipher. In fact, even the renowned scholar Lucas Wisenose had no idea what is its meaning. I have a rough sketch here,” she said as she handed Irwyn a sheet of paper something drawn on it.

It looked like a mess of lines with no specific meaning, not similar to any runic languages, yet Irwyn instantly recognised it for what it was. And he completely froze when he did. Of course, he recovered almost instantly, in fact, faster than the maid could notice his momentary faltering, but he was shaken almost to the core. Irwyn couldn’t quite comprehend when or how did he manage to anger someone of the sort, however, just the appearance of this mark made his life significantly less safe.

“One more thing,” the maid continued while Irwyn was beginning to recall every decision that might’ve lead to the current situation “A Brightbeak servant dropped by this morning, relaying sincere invitation for a meeting to lord Irwyn from their young master, Ilius von Brightbeak.”

“Meeting, you say?” Irwyn though that the timing couldn’t be a coincidence “I will consider it. When does he intend to meet up?” if he could meet the person who arranged the attack yesterday face to face and talk with him, he might just be able to remove this new and immense threat. If Irwyn remembered correctly the boy was around the same age as him, but unlike Irwyn he was the first and only son of Duchess Brightbeak. An influential, but young and naive noble would perhaps be a prime target for his newfound foe to control and use.

“It is today, actually in just a couple hours, inside the Royal theatre; he even chose the story of his parents’ triumph: The fall of Sur’ghoru. I would recommend that you do not accept this invitation, as such a last-minute arrangement is more of a taunt from the Brightbeaks than an honest invitation,” the maid reported and immediately tried to dissuade Irwyn from going along with the arrangement. It could indeed be considered rather belittling of the house Blackburg if such a last-minute arrangement was accepted.

“Ilius von Brightbeak you say? I have wanted to meet him for some time,” Irwyn lied “let’s just claim that this meeting was arranged a long while ago, and that the servant today came in just to remind me.”

“As you wish, lord Irwyn,” the maid nodded. If she disapproved, it did not show on her face as she maintained a perfectly deadpan visage. As soon as she left Irwyn called over the girls. Alice seemed to be dead tired, as there were obvious bags beneath her eyes which were constantly trying to close on their own. Meanwhile, Elizabeth, while still slightly grumpy after just waking up, seemed well-rested.

“What do you girls think about art?” Irwyn began the conversation.

“I think it’s impressive,” Elizabeth answered without delay “but I never really got to experience it much.”

“And you Alice?” Irwyn asked the girl directly when she was silent for a couple more seconds.

“Eh, ah, art?” Alice seemed to have a really hard time maintaining focus or keeping her thoughts on track “Never had time, never cared,” she managed to squeeze out an answer.

“You look fatigued. Did you not sleep well?” Irwyn couldn’t help but ask.

“I couldn’t,” Alice admitted, “I just couldn’t calm down because of the assassins after you.”

“I see,” Irwyn nodded, it wasn’t a big problem “you should go back to sleep. We will come to pick you up in the afternoon for the auction since there is no point in taking you anywhere like this,” he decided. Alice hung her head down, but eventually nodded and returned to her room.

“What did you say about art?” Elizabeth woke up completely in the meantime and became inquisitive. It looked like the absence of Alice did not disturb her much.

“I am meeting someone in the theatre today. You might not be able to attend the meeting, but I believe it would be a nice change of pace,” Irwyn explained.

"I see," Elizabeth nodded "why not," she agreed without struggling, and without even asking Irwyn who he was meeting.

After an ample breakfast and dressing up they set forward at a leisure pace. Despite that, they arrived more than 15 minutes before the actual show began. An elegant butler greeted them, and got someone to lead them into their meeting place among the most luxurious private booths.

It was when they neared the place that Irwyn felt a dreadful chill run down his spine; a stench foul beyond description entered his nostrils, making him feel pure disgust from his very core; and most of all, he could feel it: That heretical essence of the universe, the sickening power which could only have one source.

"Are you alright, lord Irwyn?" Elizabeth looked at him with slight confusion, as he had suddenly just stopped walking.

"Yes, I am fine," Irwyn snapped back. He should have expected that much when he saw the mark, but the gravity of the situation was now truly laying down on him "I can find my way from here. Please bring Elizabeth somewhere where she can watch the show," Irwyn said. Their guide looked like wanted to protest, but in the end did not dare open his mouth at Irwyn. As soon as the two were out of earshot Irwyn spoke again: "The 4 of you, go after her and make sure she is safe. I will not accept failure," as Irwyn finished his words the 4 hidden maids around him shook. They naturally didn't expect him to be so acutely aware of their presence. There was a moment of hesitation, but eventually they followed after Elizabeth.

"Shadow," Irwyn then spoke again "this isn't a fight we can win with brute strength. It will be absolutely vital that you remain behind the closed door unless I call for you. I usually wouldn't try to command you, but that was absolutely not a suggestion," Irwyn said. Shadow was perhaps among the best, but he was still only a 4th tier. He would be only a liability beyond the door. Irwyn realised that this was a problem above the capabilities of Irwyn von Blackburg. It was something that could only be solved by Ignis Lumen.

With that dedication firm in his mind, Irwyn took a step forward. It was a wonder that his rather leisure stay in the capital became a life or death situation in a mere few hours. With those thoughts in his head, he approached the door from beyond which he felt the source of his ominous feelings.

"Remain here. You absolutely must not enter, Shadow," Irwyn gave one last reminder as he grabbed the door handle. There was, of course, no trembling or terror tangible in his motion, as he had lost the more acute part of the fear of death a long time ago.

In a single swift motion Irwyn entered the room and shut the door behind himself, as soon as the doors were closed he slightly loosened the seal over his soul; not enough to manifest, but enough to be noticed by someone perceptive enough. Only then did he finally look around the room.

What he saw was completely unlike what he had expected. Instead of ancient heretic wielding power which rivaled gods, there sat only a single boy, not older than Irwyn. His eyes were emerald green while his hair was pure blond, he was gowned in a peerless white formal attire.

Their eyes met, and beyond them Irwyn saw ancient times untold, and legends long forgotten. Those eyes were not unlike Irwyn’s own. And the boy no doubt saw the same thing within his counterpart’s.

“Glimmer, leave us be,” the seated boy spoke to nowhere in particular “I forbid you from hearing even a single word said from now on,” as he said so Irwyn couldn’t perceive any presence within the room, but for a split second the door opened and then immediately closed, almost certainly leaving only Irwyn and the boy inside the room.

“How unexpected. I assume you would be the one they call Irwyn von Blackburg,” the boy smiled and motioned for Irwyn to sit. The soundproof enchantment on the doors was maintained by the city’s original magic, so there was no danger of anyone outside hearing them.

“And you would be the one they call Ilius von Brightbeak,” Irwyn said as he sat down, not hiding the frown on his face “so, I assume you are the one who ordered those assassinations.”

“Well, I wanted to put you on edge,” Ilius admitted without hesitation “but I wouldn’t have bothered had I know you are much like me.”

“I am nothing like you, necromancer,” Irwyn scoffed.

“Necromancer? You are throwing around rather serious accusations,” Ilius said, but his smile didn’t fade, nor did he deny it.

“You cannot fool me. There is only one thing in the entire universe that can give off your stench: A soul which had awakened through the heretical truth of necromancy,” Irwyn did not stop disgust from appearing on his face. He hated just the fact that he was forced into negotiation with him. At this point all the uncertainty he felt just moments ago began to turn into rage.

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“Heresy you call it… Isn’t that just a matter of perspective?” Ilius said calmly with a smile, but it made Irwyn’s blood honestly boil. There were few things in the universe that could make Irwyn feel honest rage, but heresy against the aspects was one of them.

“You use the power of the traitorous aspect,” Irwyn raised his voice, but managed to not shout; there was a limit to how much he could regulate his emotions in his childish shell “from what perspective is the power which betrayed Ignis not heretical?!”

“Calm down, zealot,” Ilius attempted to cool Irwyn down “we will get nowhere like this.”

“What is it you want to speak about in the first place,” Irwyn scoffed at him, but was beginning to calm down. It was around this time that the theatre play began. It opened with a group of people marching, imitating an army. They were lead by a pair of man and woman with pure blond hair, both wearing perfect white gowns.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so hostile, Irwyn. Our negotiations will not get anywhere if you keep this up,” Ilius seemed to be much keener on continuing this conversation than Irwyn.

“Fine, I am calm now,” Irwyn said. Despite his hatred towards those who used the magic of the traitorous aspect, he was able to get a hold of himself and clear his head. Although he hated the very thought of cooperation he couldn’t deny that someone like the heir to house Brightbeak might be able to provide him with great benefits. He desired to kill the necromancer sitting right in front of him more than anything, but he wouldn’t let that desire lead him away from his purpose. From his cause. With a sigh he could only recite to himself: Ends justify the means.

“Good,” Ilius smiled “since you were able to sense the aura surrounding my soul you were too an awakened before your demise, and a powerful one at that. I was personally on the brink of reaching the legendary 6th tier. What peak did you reach?”

“Hmmm,” Irwyn wondered how much he should reveal. If he were to reveal too little or too much Ilius would not believe him. In the end he decided to reveal a part of the truth: “I was an Ascendant, about 3000 years ago.”

“An Ascendant?” Ilius seemed rather surprised “I thought that those who went up never returned back down.”

“Certainly not alive,” Irwyn sighed “I murdered my predecessor and was in turn slaughtered by my successor. No doubt a cycle that repeats itself every millennium. Yet this time around I will make sure that I will be the last to ever ascend the Spire.”

“I see,” Ilius nodded and smirked “so that is your goal: To reclaim the power once taken from you and claim your revenge in the process. We truly are birds of a feather.”

“Don’t test my patience, Ilius. You should be well aware of how horrible childish bodies are at containing emotions,” Irwyn stared at the other boy intensely. During their conversation the theatre play moved forward. After the army’s march, they set up a camp at dusk. There the 2 previous leaders, and another blond-haired man were discussing things among themselves when a young soldier burst into their tent, acting as though he was being consumed by terror.

“Since things are like that we will undoubtedly bump into each other often,” Ilius continued “all thing considered, you will likely surpass me in the fight over the greatest genius of the North, since I cannot showcase my true power, however, it is inevitable that we both depart for the academy of Ignis.”

“That is true,” Irwyn had to surrender. The academy of Ignis was the perfect place for someone like them: A place filled with the greatest geniuses from all around the world as well as the place with the greatest concentration of rare resources. Irwyn even had connections within the academy that would make his long term stay almost a certainty.

“That is why I would like to suggest that we agree on mutual non-intervention,” Ilius offered his hand for a handshake.

“Why would I agree to that,” Irwyn just frowned and didn’t take the hand. It was no a particularly bad deal, but Irwyn wanted to squeeze out a bit more.

“Is that how you really feel?” Ilius asked “In that case we could also agree on sharing some information. From what I understand so far you reincarnated, however, I instead resurrected,” in other words, while Irwyn went through one of the spirit realms and had to strike a deal with its overlord, Ilius instead avoided the entire cycle by taking over the body of an unborn child “I have a lot of significant information from the past 1000 years which you might find interesting. On the other hand, you might possess an understanding of some other things that I might desire to know.”

It was at this moment that Irwyn sensed an opportunity. If the other party did not desire the mutual nonaggression it would not be suggested in the first place. In that case Ilius was now quietly anticipating Irwyn’s answer, something that would get on his nerves and reduce his attention enough so that Irwyn would be able to safely use his skill unnoticed.

[Activating Overseer]

[Action successful]

[Name:Ilius von Brightbeak]

[Race: Human (corrupted by death)]

[Keystones: True mage]

[Soul grade: peak immortal (sealed)]

[Maximum mana: 9,800]

[Active Classes: Light apprentice (T 1/4) 15/15]

[Worship: none]

[Essence: 12]

[Unspent points: level: 0, attribute: 0, upgrade: 0]

[Titles: Born of epic light, (Resurrector - hidden), Defiler]

[Magic:Light magic, General magic]

[Skills:]

[Dormant classes:]

[Attributes:]

[Magic capacity:98]

[Constitution: 20]

[Strength: 20]

[Intellect: 41]

[Dexterity: 15]

[Soul: 50 (20)]

Irwyn was not surprised by the lack of titles and classes connected to necromancy. It was after all the betrayer’s magic. Something so heretical that it was completely erased from within Logos in hopes that it’s spread would be faltered. While they conversed the theatre play also continued: The army was now locked in combat with an undead mob. The 3 blond-haired character slaughtered their way through the undying ranks as the side actors fell around them, one after another.

“Fine,” Irwyn finally agreed “I will accept your terms. Mutual non-intervention and information exchange,” there would be no contract as binding an awakened soul was nearly impossible. Irwyn did not really trust Ilius, and the same was likely true the other way around, but a verbal agreement was better than nothing.

“Great,” Ilius smiled “let me ask the first question: What was name did you use in your previous life?” he said. Perhaps it was a test to ascertain that Irwyn was truly an Ascendant like he claimed to be, or perhaps just an easy question to ease him in. Either way, he had no real reason to lie at this point, “They called me Azergo, the juggernaut.”

“Just as I thought,” Ilius smiled again, it was almost disturbing when Irwyn saw someone else utilize the same strategy as him “we had in fact met in our past life, albeit at the time you were at the peak of your power, and I was just an apprentice necromancer in the crowd. I have to honestly thank you, had you not wiped-out my predecessors I never would have managed to lay my hands on the knowledge I needed to make it this far.”

“Necromancers in the North that I wiped out,” Irwyn pondered out loud “I see, so you belonged to the group which dared call themselves the Scholars of Proditio.”

“Yes, not the wisest name all things considered, but upon joining I was a broken young man charmed by the promise of power they offered me. Although they had no awakened among their ranks the cult found a drawing of the mark of the betrayer which lead me where I got.”

The mark of the betrayer, the sigil of an awakened necromancer. To novice necromancers with no help from Logos to cling to it could become a guiding hand. It was the very same symbol which brought dread onto Irwyn earlier in the morning. The symbol which was carved onto the mask of the hooded man who hired the assassins.

But even the person before him did not understand its real meaning. There were after all only exactly 10 in the entire universe who could.

In the meantime the play advanced. A new important character appeared on the scene: A pale white young man with azure blue eyes. He beckoned and the undead horde poured themselves at the last 3 remaining heroes. Despite the overwhelming odds the trio fought off the unending undead valiantly.

“If you are a remnant of a cult from 3000 years ago, recently dead and resurrected there is only one person that you could be,” Irwyn chuckled, finally able to recline his attitude back into how he usually was “and I originally thought you chose this play in order to taunt the Blackburg family,” meanwhile the trio on stage broke through the horde and stood face to face with the villain.

Ilius just bitterly smiled and said: “History is written by the victor, but I hate how they butchered this scene,” on the stage the villain was defenseless without his lackeys, but before he fell he whispered a mighty curse. His actor crawled on the ground while laughing: “Duke Brightbeak! I linked your life to my own. Do you still dare kill me?” to which the man only solemnly announced: “Sur’ghoru, you have corrupted the North for long enough. Today you die, no matter the price!” and then he landed the finishing blow. The Duke’s actor basked in glory for a moment, but then began violently coughing, and fell on his knees. In his last moments he spoke to the female actress: “My dearest wife, return home and spread the word: We have won, the lich is dead!” after which he promptly died, evoking an emotional reaction from the female actress, while the last actor stood nearby, sorrow in his eyes.

“Valiant death my ass,” Ilius cursed out, definitely aggravated “I butchered him like a pig when he tried to shield my whore of a mother,” if his words before were not enough this definitely confirmed his identity. Ilius von Brightbeak was none other than the arch-lich Sur’ghoru which had terrorized North for almost 3000 years before he met his end at the hands of duke Brightbeak.

“If I believed in fate I would say it is a fateful irony” Irwyn played along since it was not difficult to deduce the rest from what he already knew “that the freshly pregnant duchess just happened to be nearby when they finally managed to kill you.”

“Yes, was it not for that I would have been truly killed back then,” Ilius gritted his teeth “you might perhaps hate me for using this power, but it is all I have and all I know. And with it I shall return the debt for what happened that day a 100 fold. I need to calm down, just as you have said, such a young body cannot contain emotions well,” Ilius stood up and prepared to leave. The play still had 2 more acts describing the aftermath from the point of view of different characters, but Ilius probably didn’t really care as he took a deep breath and spoke: “Let’s meet again Irwyn von Blackburg. I believe our relationship will be mutually beneficial,” he left the room as soon those words sounded. Irwyn let the fact that it was his time to ask the next question go. He also had things to consider now that he knew exactly who the heir to house Brightbeak was. So Irwyn also stood up, deciding to find Elizabeth and watch the rest of the play with her.