Evening had set in, Madakos had not fully committed his resources, worried for what might come.
He had not been idle, he had 131 constructs producing 191 Zira, 11 constructs were scattered in various hidden places, Madakos did not fully understand Zira, but the minute he had 6 lots of 60 constructs, instead of having a 50% bonus in Zira production it doubled; in other words instead of 540 Zira per second, it was 720. The power rushed into him, to the point that even Tamura stared at him with awe and worry.
“What are you doing?”
“Gathering my magic,” he muttered in reply.
She got up and observed the 360 constructs as they interlaced, the purple crystals produced an economies of scale that was pretty absurd, it had compressed. He was stunned, the strange feeling of this bizarre magic going into his veins.
Does it double further?
NO.
Madakos fell over, Tamura thought it was something to do with his unnatural magic.
“Are you going mad?” Tamura said, sharpening a knife.
She threw a knife into the sand, but he was unfazed, tucking his linen shirt into his linen trousers. He shook his head, and laughed a little.
“No, not yet, it’s hard to explain why I fell down, and-” he stopped speaking when he realised she wasn’t listening, then simply sighed and smiled.
Why do people never listen to what I have to say? People I swear. Well I suppose it doesn’t matter whether they do or not.
Every 10 seconds he plopped a construct, until after 10 minutes he had another 60. In the corner of his eye, he saw Ildrid and a legion of skeletons. There they rattled toward him, shaking as they crawled forward, plodding along the sand.
“Target spotted!” The skeleton general roared, “kill him.”
Madakos built four towers that each took 100 Zira a second upkeep, he fed them with his magic, the tendrils of his magic siphoned to the towers that blasted purple fireballs. The towers crept a solid 4 metres into the air, spewing fireballs as much as Madakos would deign to feed them. The on fire skeletons burnt into crisp, the black ash falling onto the yellow sand below. The towers punctuated the sky on undulating sand, their construction a simple sand stone made of magic, they shot purple fire down below like a lighthouse as they beamed laser consistent flames, eviscerating what they touched.
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“How are you?” Tamura whispered.
He fed his towers no more Zira, he punctuated his attack with flaming boulders into the massed ranks. The skeletons were pulverised, some jangling into ashes as the flames died on the beach. Ildrid had no time to be furious, as he had to retreat, avoiding complete destruction. Madakos ceased his towers activity bar a smaller one, and instantly created 360 more constructs, followed by another 360.
“He didn’t call for reinforcements?” Tamura whispered, “did they?”
Madakos did not hear Tamura, but he had the same thought. He was deep in his thoughts as the power of Zira flowed into him. The flames flickered, the embers of the cascade winking out as Madakos stared into the ether of the night.
“No, they did not,” Madakos said quietly, “they did-n’t,” the minor hesitation because of fear, interrupted by his rational sense.
He turned around and made a small fire and sat next to it, creating a crystal that ate Zira to make heat so that he could simply watch his empire of Zira flow into him. Tamura was astounded, for the magic that was now coming into him was a tsunami of purple magic. The large ants far from being attracted were now repulsed, staying clear of him.
“I felt the presence of those… things.”
“Skeletons, Undead,” Tamura corrected, “is that why you dawdled for so long?”
“Yes, but I was wasting my potential. 2160 a second…” he trailed off.
The Shadow Elves covered their face’s, but Madakos tripped one up who was about to stab him.
“What is the meaning of this?” Tamura demanded.
“You brought Necromancers on our doorstep!” A womanly voice said from the shadows.
Madakos increased the flames, and the faces became more visible, it was the same extremely attractive woman from before; he let go, but pushed her back with a purple wall of magic. The other Shadow Elves merely stayed back, studying him and what he was about. The seconds were brutally effective at producing judgement.
“They were after me not you,” Madakos whispered, “and if I was a threat. Couldn’t I just annihilate you all?”
Tamura looked aghast at Madakos for saying something so tactless. The Shadow Elves exploded with fury and fear, their eyes screaming at him. His eyes glinted with the power he now had; it was even more tactless, but it did scare them into listening.
“Stay away from me!” Madakos growled, “I am a dangerous person absolutely. But I am just trying to protect myself. Now fuck off!”
His fists ignited in purple flames, making the Shadow Elves jolt backwards.
He dismantled his only tower, and seemingly leashed his 1080 constructs in three large cubes. He went deeper into the Continent of Sand than even the Shadow Elves dared to go. It was their policy to avoid the deeper sands, staying near the shores where they could run away from danger if need be. They also wielded purple flames but theirs were made of mana, using it to ward off danger, Madakos was danger; Madakos in his new-found power could now ward off danger, but also created it.
“If he goes deeper into the Shadow Lands, he can’t possibly be associated with us,” one of the elders said, “it is not our problem.”
One of the Elven women stared into the ground angrily; grumbling something inaudible before sheathing her blades and running after Madakos. Tamura ran after him as well. It would take a while, but he had captured a series of hills 30 kilometres inland, fortifying it with four towers, before creating more constructs.
No one can complain about me this far away from them. I noticed I used a lot of Zira blipping small distances ahead. That was wasteful. Or was it?