Hello. My name is Andras Grigori, Archmage of the dark arts. If you are reading this, I am dead. Fret not, dear mortal, with powers such as mine death is not a final farewell and merely a temporary setback. A hurdle to be cleared.

Even now as the fools I once called friends are assaulting my tower, even as I transcribe my final message, I am also weaving perhaps the most extraordinary spell frame of my lifetime. A shame it will be the last, of this life.

When the man I thought closest to my equal, Vincent Gildea, and our band of companions succeeded in ridding this world of the Tyrannical Dragon Emperor, I thought we would live in luxury and retire. I was a fool. With the dragon gone, the biggest threat to Vincent’s idyllic world-view was me.

Sure, he was never one to complain when my magic healed his wounds, blocked his heart from arrows, or raised our enemies to fight in our stead, but the world could never know that the great hero Gildea allowed the use of necromancy. The dark arts were a weapon of convenience for him, and when he denounced me publicly that convenience had ended. The disgust on his face as I fled the capitol would be reason enough to destroy him. My heartache even more so.

Unfortunately, my message was halted there when the door to my sanctum was blown off its hinges. The only sign of my final spellwork falling into place was a telltale flash of dark light in the resulting plume of smoke. When the dust settled I looked up to see Vincent, standing in the doorway with anger painted across his face. He was followed by what few of our friends were foolhardy enough to join him. I could only spare them a final glance. A pity, no one else was supposed to die. I’ll need to keep them out of the crossfire.

“Hello Vincent, what brings you to my office this evening?” I asked in faux hospitality, stalling while I began to weave my combat spells in either hand. The rage on his face deepened and curled into a scowl when he bellowed in response.

“Andras Tellmire Grigori” Ugh, does he have to use my middle name? So dramatic. “By the authority of the Fifth Sovereign Emperor of Teraq, and the Holy Teraqi Church of Light, you are hereby placed under arrest. Surrender peacefully and your death will be painless” Blah, Blah, Blah. Vincent was always such a drama queen. Thankfully, his blow hard monologue gave me enough time to finish my spells.

The first spell sprang into place with a calculated delay, building a wall of force in the shell of my former doorway. The incompetents who followed Vincent would be too inept to break it, and if he’s half the man I thought, he’d see it’s safer for them on the other side. Either way, the delay repeater built into the spell frame gave just enough time for Vincent to cross the threshold alone. Predictably dashing headlong into my second spell.

He’s struck with the most mana-efficient mid-grade curse I could muster. It wouldn’t be wise to strip him of his entire divine blessing, but I needed this fight to look convincing. If he struggled too much, I might not have fulfilled my contingency requirements.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Vincent paused for only a moment to glance over his shoulder before he charged me again. Babbling some nonsense about trusting his “friends”, as if he himself could be trusted.

I didn’t have enough time to weave together my next volley before he closed the distance. His sword shredded my first six warding layers in a single swing. The strain on my mind was a searing pain as I was knocked across the room, my spell frames stuttered from the loss of focus. Fucking heroes. Impacting the wall behind me shattered another ward, leaving me with only the three interior protections. Fucking. heroes.

“Andras. Surrender now and I will entreat the church to spare your life. There is no need for anyone to die here.” Vincent offered. I’m sure in his mind it seemed like some great kindness, offering a final mercy. I am no fool though, he lies as easily as he breathes.

“You are right Vincent, no one needs to die today. This bloodshed was a choice, Your choice, and a choice I hope you take to your grave” I explained through gasping breaths while I struggled to my feet. Thankfully my mind worked better than my lungs, and by the time I regained my footing, the second volley of spells was complete.

My eyes filled with inky black clouds at the same moment as Vincent’s, [Sympathetic Blinding] overtook us both. I had mana sense to fall back onto, Vincent did not. His skill, [Sense Vitality] was easily circumvented by my second spell. [False Death], masked me in a shroud of necrotic energies, to any outside observation I would seem like a walking corpse.

“I committed no crimes, Vincent. All I ever did was help you, aide you. My methods may be unorthodox, but that never bothered you before.” I felt my voice grow louder and louder with each word. “Tell me. Who convinced you that I was so evil? The church? The emperor? Does your new life of fame not fit with your old friends?”. Dodging each blind strike from Vincent’s [Sword of Light] skill kept me dancing around the room as I begged him for answers.

I knew he wouldn’t tell me though, so I cast one final spell. [Shroud of Silence] wrapped around me, hiding my footsteps from any detection so I could I close the distance between us. When I finally stood in front of him, I let the spell fall away.

“Did I truly mean so little to you?” was my final question before his sword pierced my heart. [Sympathetic Blinding] fell away and my mana drained rapidly into the holy sword through my chest. The shattered fragments of my spine screamed like daggers through my blood and I lost control of my body, slumping forward into Vincent’s arms. Typical. He kills me, but won’t let me die alone in peace.

The look of horror and confusion in his eyes above me was sickening, even after making it all this way he was still completely clueless. A perpetual idiot.

I drafted the battle plans against the Tyrant Dragon, and I healed and directed our party for years. Yet he’s surprised I know every skill, every ability, every hit point on each of us? Perhaps he underestimated me, or perhaps he didn’t expect my final plan to play out this way.

I could hear him shouting at me, but it was distant, muffled. The hot rain on my face jostled me back from the cold of oncoming sleep. No, not rain, tears. I wasn’t sleeping, I was dying.

“...dras. Andras! Why? Why wouldn’t you surrender? I could have protected you” Vincent was crying. The tears weren’t mine. What a fool, did he never stop to think that maybe he should have told me about his master plan to protect me?

“This was the only way.” The archmage of Darkness, Andras Tellmire Grigori spoke his final words, a cryptic declaration of his plan, and died. With former friends and current rivals rushing in around him, he received one last system message as his soul departed his body.

Conditions met. Soul upload complete.

Beginning search for adequate host body.

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