"I accept this proposal," says Oleg. His cylindrical head spins to face The Lich. "Numerous reports tell me that Ancalia was destroyed due to the spontaneous opening of scores of Night Roads. That's usually not possible, is it? In the past, only one Night Road was able to open within a large radius of one another. Something very dangerous is coming. If we wish to protect Arcem, we must band together. Tell me, Lich, what is the extent of this power you speak of?"
"You, Oleg, have received authority over Artifice, Endurance, and Might. The Word of Knowledge tells me of powers related to these three things. Given time and dedication, you can learn to precisely control your divine power beyond just simple bolts of energy or feats of magic strength," says The Lich.
"So we'll be living here?" Asks Inge.
"For a while, yes. The creatures that spew forth from the Night Roads are far too powerful for even mighty heroes to vanquish; it becomes our responsibility." Says The Lich. "Aside from that, you are now marked, each and every one of you, for death. Ambitious mortals looking to steal your power or fashion weapons out of your corpses will undoubtedly appear. Your constitutions have been massively boosted, but unless you possess a special divine protection against them, such as Oleg, mortal weapons will still hurt you just as easily. So, I will ask you all once more; will you join my pantheon?"
"Aye," says Minah.
"I suppose so," says Barbatus.
"Sure," says Caterina.
"Okay..." whispers Astrid.
"Alright," says Nitocris.
"Wait," says Fikre. His booming voice catches the attention of everyone else in the room. "Where will I stay?"
"You'll have to sleep outside," says The Lich. Seriously? "My knowledge, however, tells me that your scales should be strong enough to ward away any attacks, though. Do not worry yourself with danger. Almost no mortal weapon can pierce them, and even if they could, you are simply too large to be seriously affected." I guess so.
"Okay... can I bring my brother?" Asks Inge.
"Unfortunately, no," replies The Lich. "It is too dangerous. He could be potentially killed if he stays here." She nods in understanding. "Fantastic. Get some rest. Beelzebub, show them to their rooms. We start tomorrow."
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Fikre is awoken early in the morning by a brownish humanoid creature. "Good morning, sir," it says. This guy looks like he's made out of clay! "I sense you are confused. My creator, the master of this palace, created me using theurgy. He's created many other counterparts for me made out of stone to be more durable in order to protect the palace from intruders, and placed me in charge of them." Fikre turns his head, and...WOAH! A colossal collection of stone men patrol around the conjured palace.
"He did all of that in ONE night!?" Fikre roars.
"The master is expecting you inside. Please, make your way in." Fikre stands up and squeezes into the entrance, following where the clay man leads him.
"So, do you have a name?" Asks Fikre.
"A name? Heavens, no. The theurgy that created me is known as Legions of Marching Clay. Soldiers made of stone are resistant to most forms of attacks, but soldiers made from clay, like myself, are unusually intelligent. That doesn't extend, however, to disobeying my master's orders. He never told me to assign myself a name."
"But he didn't say to not, did he?"
"...I suppose not. You may call me Clayman."
Fikre rolls his eyes. "Real original," he says. Clayman leads them to another part of the palace Fikre has not yet seen. Past the door is a gargantuan empty room, where he finds the other guests waiting for him. Fikre's footsteps shake the ground a little and panic some of them.
"Shit! Fuck! I know it might be hard for you, but can you at least try to tiptoe?" Yells Barbatus. Fikre holds up his right claw, and Barbatus sighs. "So why did you become some giant monster?"
"That's quite rude," says Caterina. "I could ask you the same question." The others laugh.
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"You're from Vissio, aren't you? I can tell because of your fucking Northern accent," says Barbatus. "It's long overdue that the Patrian Empire takes back that rebel province. I would watch your next words very carefully." Barbatus draws his sword and holds it up to Caterina's neck. She narrows her eyes and turns away.
"H-Hello," says a warped voices behind them. Beelzebub has snuck up on them without any of them even noticing. "The Lich has some business to take care of, this m-morning, so I will be... f-filling in for him. I have been... i-instructed to work with... Inge Red Glissando first." The small girl steps forward. Beelzebub pulls out a sheet of paper. "Okay... apparently, you have the... the Words of Beasts, Music, and Journeying. According to the... the... The Lich, divine powers are split up into... two kinds of expressions. Miracles are... essentially, anything you can think of within a r-reasonable limit, and gifts are... inherently more powerful actions, but more... limited, in nature."
"Holy shit, can someone else read this damn paper? Listening to this guy is painful." Says Barbatus. He snatches the paper from Beelzebub's warped insectoid hands and reads it out loud. "In order to use a miracle or gift, simply focus on channeling power into an action... okay, so how do we known what gifts we can use?"
"They're written on the... b-back side..." says Beelzebub. Barbatus flips the paper over and reads to himself for a moment.
"Now we're getting somewhere," he says. "It says here I have the Words of Sword, Command, and War." Of course he does. Barbatus rests himself into a tense stance and shouts, "Do my bidding!" Nothing happens, and he stands there for a moment. Fikre laughs heartily.
"You can't just... j-just expect something to happen," says Beelzebub. "You have to make it... clear to yourself that you're... you're trying to use a divine power. Try yelling, 'Gift of Command' or... something."
"Okay... do you mind if I try this on you, Fikre?" Barbatus asks.
"Go right ahead," Fikre says.
Barbatus points to Fikre and shouts, "Gift of Command: Thrall-Making Shout!" Fikre feels a heavy weight rest upon his mind. "Servant, spin around four times!" Fikre finds his own body moving against his will as his hind legs and front legs move to spin his massive body in circles. He tries to resist, and almost succeeds, but the effect is too strong. "Lay down!" Fikre lays down. "Incredible! I release you." The effect vanishes from Fikre's mind and he shakes his head violently.
"Please, don't do that again," he asks.
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The rest of the day is filled with an incredible showcase of amazing powers. As it turns out, The Lich was correct when he said the Words of Creation had made them all much hardier; at one point, Nitocris was even accidentally stabbed in the chest, but after a moment of clutching the wound in pain for a few seconds got up as if nothing had happened.
"You massive idiot!" Nitocris shouts as she slaps Barbatus. Fikre laughs.
"Do you mind if I see that sheet of paper? I haven't had a chance to do anything yet," says Fikre. Astrid hands him the sheet of paper, which he has to hold in between two claws like tweezers. He puts it right up to his eye. He can read it, but barely. "I'll try this first." Fikre points his claw towards Barbatus. "Gift of Time: Prophetic Insight!" The streams of time open up before Fikre's eyes. Woah... this power lets me choose a probable future that will happen to someone and make it guaranteed! It's so easy, too! It's like I know exactly where everything is! Fikre looks for a specific future of Barbatus and selects it.
"So... what did it do?" Asks Minah. Barbatus suddenly trips over seemingly nothing. Everyone laughs at him.
"What did you do, lizard!? You'll pay for that!" Barbatus jumps up and charges at Fikre with his sword.
"Gift of Time: Reflex of Regret!" Fikre shouts. Barbatus slows down midair, along with everything else in the room, as well as Fikre himself. The actions of the past 10 seconds are slowly played in reverse, along with his own prophecy gift.
"So, are you gonna do anything or what?" Asks Barbatus. Amazing! I can rewind the last 10 seconds of time!
"Gift of Underworld: Treasures of the Earth!" As he casts his divine power, he suddenly becomes aware of all the valuable gemstones beneath them out to 1,000 feet and exactly where they are. Oh, so Underworld literally means underground, not like, Hell. I can work with that. He waves his claw and all the gems beneath him instantly appear in his hand.
"Holy shit!" Yells Minah. "Those gemstones are worth, like, 50,000 gold!" Fikre sets them down on the floor, disinterested in them.
"According to this," says Fikre, "having this sort of body also grants me natural powers. Let's see here..." Fikre reads the paper. "Your natural strength has been increased almost seventy-fold, you have a new organ in your throat that can emit hazardous materials, your wings are strong enough to fly, and your voice is capable of harnessing natural magic energies to force people to submit to your will." Fikre is impressed by the range of abilities his new body grants him.
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Mengu Oronar returns the sacred armor to its pedestal. As he moves to leave the room, the dark entity appears once again. "It's only a... matter of time... before he returns..."
"Shut the fuck up," says Mengu. "He is dead. He will never return."
"He festers... his servants... live on... son of... Jack."
Mengu turns around quickly. "What did you say!? The Crimson Cultists are dead! They all died in the explosion that was created when he was killed by that massive laser he built!"
"You know it in your... heart... to be true. The Patrians will... come for the armor. Their general is a... god now... like you. His mind will be... easily swayed... and they will construct... a beacon. You are biding your... time."
Mengu storms out of the room and slams the door shut behind him. "He's bluffing." Mengu walks back into his room and takes out a small, purple sphere. "He has to be... that ancient evil is dead forever."