Fikre sculks in the echo chamber of his cave for two whole days. He doesn't want to get up, and The Lich has made no moves against him, so he doesn't plan on doing anything. That is until he gets a letter.
"Great one, the Kasirutan Archipelago has sent you a letter," says a priest, handing him a small note. Fikre strains his eye as he holds up the small scrap of paper. Fikre, I hope this letter finds you well. I hate to ask this of you, but I would like your help with something. A great many ships have gone missing in Kasirutan, and seeing as I do not know Inge very well and can't fly myself, I would greatly appreciate it if you could come to the archipelago and help me figure out what's going on. You can cover ground much faster than any ship. Best regards, Minah Mantara. Fikre sees a small seal in the corner, indicating it's official.
It's not like I have anything better to do...
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Fikre focuses in on Minah, who is sitting on the shore outside of a small hut. He teleports to her, and coughs as to not startle her. Fikre, however, underestimates his size, and the cough comes out as a skull-shattering clap. Minah covers her ears in pain. "...Sorry."
"Fuck," she says. "Hold on, my ears are still ringing... so you decided to help me find where the ships are going?"
"Yes," replies Fikre, "but there's something we need to talk about first." Fikre explains what happened in the altercation with The Lich.
"That's... really concerning. It definitely sounds like he was trying to trick you into something," she says.
"Yeah, and the worst part is that when I refused he tried to kill me!" Fikre exclaims.
"Alright... I'll inform the others about this. We need to figure out what's going on," Minah says. "First, I would really appreciate it if you could help with the ships." Fikre nods.
He spends almost 40 hours soaring over the Kasirutan seas and the various islands that the country holds, but finds nothing. At midnight, almost two days later, he finally spots something worthwhile.
Another merchant caravel, Fikre notes. As he is about to fly in the other direction, he hears a loud noise and turns around to see what it is. A cannon? A black brig approaches the small caravel. The crew... they're all... skeletons!? The skeleton crew makes guttural clicking noises with their teeth and brandish swords above their heads. The merchants scream at each other and prepare for evasive maneuvers. I have to help them! Fikre flies down and scorches the black ship with his fire, burning off a large chunk of it.
A cloaked skeleton emerges from the quarters of the brig. I can feel that guy's magical aura from here! What the hell is it? The cloaked skeleton holds up his hand, and from it a large orb of fire shoots towards Fikre, tracking him. He used fire against me? What an idiot. The orb strikes Fikre and explodes, searing his flesh and dealing significant damage. Fuck! Magical fire!? He's using low magic! Fikre goes back for another breath attack, but finds himself flying headfirst into another flaming sphere. He diverts his route, escaping the impact but not the explosion. The damage is enough to strip off many scales on his back. He grits his teeth through the pain. If I don't stop this ship, it's going to ram right into the merchant ship!
Fikre breathes fire onto the deck again, killing many skeletons and charring others, but his flames simply deflect off the cloaked skeleton. Is he using some sort of fire protection spell!? I'll have to go down and attack him from close range, then! Fikre dodges fireball after fireball, weaving through the blasts. However, he is still to large to avoid all the damage. As Fikre's flesh sears, he sees his opportunity and dives straight for the skeleton. "Gift of Time: Sundered Moment!" He shouts. As he rapidly approaches the skeleton, it panics and casts another low magic spell on itself and begins levitating. Fikre, too late to divert his trajectory, dives headfirst into the ship, sinking it.
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Shit! He's still above water! He's going to... kill them... Fikre struggles to resurface, but parts of the ship fall on top of him and weigh him down. Skeletons chop at his now exposed limbs and moving hurts too much in the saltwater with the wounds. No... Fikre's eyes lose their light.
Fikre regains consciousness as time splits in two, rewinding him back to the point just after he used Sundered Moment. Round two. This time, Fikre uses his wings to slow his descent and grabs the skeleton with his hind claw. Time slows down, and Fikre's mind is placed between the two different timelines he just created. He, of course, moves into the one where he won, and the other timeline dissolves into nothingness. He finishes scorching the rest of the skeletons and ship from afar without incident. As he flies away, he sees the merchants bowing in reverence to him.
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"A skeleton wielding magic? That's not something you see every day," says Minah. "Well, apart from The Lich..."
"That's exactly my point. You saw he created skeletons from nothing in the meeting room using divine power. What if he can create stronger undead creatures using corpses, and the reason ships are going missing is that he's using your rise to godhood as a distraction to capture sailors and using their bodies to build a magical army?" Says Fikre. Minah goes pale.
"You inferred all that from what little we know?" She asks. "Well, it certainly makes sense. I think you might be right. I'll tell everyone else. If he's planning something, we have to stop it." Fikre nods.
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"Tell me... Mengu, you said?" The armored man holds a sword up to Mengu's throat. "If you yourself are a god, surely that must mean there are others in this... world."
Mengu spits in his face, but it stops short at his helmet. The armored man punches Mengu hard, knocking him onto his bed. He locks the door. "You will tell me where they are. The Goggles of Revealing indicate that your soul is noble. Tch. If there is one thing my master and I did not agree with, it was the naming of souls. 'Noble' indicates something is good and just. Gods are not noble. They are cowards. They hind behind their followers and do what they please with no regard for mortal life. For all the time, I travelled with my master, he had only met a single god he deemed not worth killing, and it was some poor soul that had been cast out of his own pantheon." The man runs his finger along the sword, creating sparks as it contacts his metal gloves. "When Winter and I did this a year ago, it was much simpler. Both the people we needed were right in front of us, and we took them. It's quite curious you haven't tried to attack me or Winter yet. Is it because you know you would be dead before any attack you could make struck us?"
The man raises his sword as if to strike Mengu, but stops an inch away from the neck. "There's no need for violence, I suppose." The man places his hands of Mengu's temples. Mengu's facial muscles twitch, and his eyes roll into the back of his head as he screams in pain. "Tell me everything you think I should know."
"There are... ten other gods..." Mengu says, "each in a different country. There are... two... I think you would be particularly interested in." Mengu's voice is robotic as the mysterious force probes him mind for information.
"Oh?"
"One is... a dragon... he lies far, far North of here... in a country called Ancalia. The other is... West of the dragon... in a land called the Bleak Reach. He is... a skeleton who wields theurgy. Their names are... Fikre and... The Lich."
"I see." The man takes his hands off of Mengu's head. "We will be back for you. I'm sure my master will want to kill you himself when he returns. Winter!" The door is opened by the hulking machine of a man. "We are leaving at once. We go North, to Ancalia."
"Yes... Leviticus, I plead with you... kill me."
"You make me laugh. Shut the fuck up. We are going."
The leader of the Crimson Cult, Leviticus, stands against a black background. He dons a crimson red cape and a great helm. [https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1136080780368543925/1169731610233536622/IMG_4249.jpg?ex=65567874&is=65440374&hm=eb464e1bfd2b639f4635ab07cf078c29d9e76a9b08f82f47585f297e3a115d4b&]