"Guardian's Veil is a defensive spell that is highly effective at blunting light and fast attacks but does little against hard and heavy attacks. Learn it well. It will save you more times than you can count."
Okrir - Guardian Team Leader - Involute Class
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"Let's have a chat with Father. Shall we?" Alicia said. Her voice was not her own. The words she spoke were carried in a tone as cheerful as it was dispassionate, and she moved her head in unnatural twitching motions. "There is much we are curious about."
The most unsettling of all however was the way her facial expressions were split in two. Evidently, Symon hadn't succeeded in separating the leech attached to Alicia's soul. Maybe he was partially successful, or maybe he'd just made it worse.
“We were not aware there were others who could navigate the astral realm in such a way.” The flat side of Alicia’s face stated. This time it carried no emotion, no passion, no drive. A dead voice.
Symon stared on without saying a word.
What he'd done was foolish. It was risky.
Had he killed Alicia?
He wasn't sure. He couldn't be sure. He was messing with things beyond his understanding.
Still, was it a mistake?
He didn’t think so. No matter how many times he ran it through his mind, what was the alternative?
The answer was that there was no alternative. But that fact didn't stop the gut wrenching feeling in his stomach. Not just regret and doubt. But fear. Not just the fear that he may have killed someone, but the fear of the far worse fate that might await him.
He knew the spell Alicia had cast. He knew the entity which had created it. And he knew his actions would garner its interest. He even guessed that it would act so quickly and decisively in interdicting him.
The entity he'd provoked was the closest thing this world had to a god, though a dispassionate and malignant one. One of three great calamities created in the third age of man. He hadn’t expected it to know how to speak. Maybe it didn’t. Perhaps it only could through its minions as an intermediary.
Provoking it was far from what he wanted to do, but what choice did he have when death was so close and so certain.
Symon knew many things about this world. Things no one else could know. But for everything that he did know, there were a million things he did not. This…thing. This weapon. It was an idea far from fully developed. All he’d written was the concept of an idea, a paragraph. It was just another feature to make the setting a little more grim. Symon knew almost as little about it as everyone else in this world.
It, on the other hand, knew far more. It had existed in this world since the third age of man. It had more experience than he could gain from a thousands lifetimes. He might have created this world, but it lived here.
Still, there was one decisive advantage Symon held. The things he knew, much of it peered behind the curtains of reality; knowledge of the nature of this universe and the magic within it. Things that even this ancient malignant entity did not, and could not, know.
He knew that Astral Quarks were immune to interdiction.
The air warped around them, the ground trembled, electricity arced at the edges of the circle. The bubble collapsed, colors shifted in a spectrum visible only to the mind. Then something shattered like a mirror and the thing possessing Alicia cried out in pain.
And then Symon was gone. Hundreds of miles passed beneath his feet in an instant. The jungle was gone, Alicia was gone, Darrius’s corpse was gone. He was standing on a small hill in a clearing with a blue sky above his head and a gentle breeze rustling his hair.
It worked.
Symon laughed. A loud obnoxious laugh took every last bit of breath from his lungs and threatened to suffocate him.
It actually worked!
He had some confidence it would, all signs pointed to him being an Astral Quark after all. But even if he could think of no other explanation for his circumstances, it did little to give him confidence when the consequences of being wrong were so dire.
If given the chance, that thing, that weapon, that God-like existence, it would ravage his mind, tearing it asunder in search of all he knew.
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On the continent of Oror, in the northern reaches, two mountain ranges intersected at a right angle, forming a region known as The Cradle.
The Cradle was cut in half by the Tigron river which split the region in two. On the north side was the breadbasket of the human world, a vast swath of flat land covered from end to end in farms. Within its depths guardians had long since wiped out all but the strongest dens of monsters. Few dungeons remained, and even fewer forests.
On the south side of the river was the human frontier. A land of hope for the future of mankind, a land ripe for reclamation, and the only land where humanity’s progress pushed ever forward. In this land, human greed met noble purpose; successes built one upon another, with powerful factions investing ever more resources into more and more ambitious crusades. Guardians were dispatched to the region in masse, sweeping away the forests, flattening the hills, and drowning the dungeons in the blood of the monsters that lived within.
This latter region was where Symon found himself. Trudging along northwards through a barren wasteland of burnt grasslands for the past fourteen hours.
This was the border region, a strategic area of scorched earth that kept wandering monsters at bay.
It was here that Symon at last found a sign of humanity. A watchtower. There he broke bread with the watchman on duty and rested his weary legs.
The man, his name was Efraim, was surprisingly indifferent to Symon's sudden appearance. As it turned out, there were plenty of the poor and destitute on humanity’s frontier who decided to take their chances scavenging rare herbs or the lost equipment of deceased guardians.
The guard had simply pegged him for yet another one of those unfortunate souls. A dead man walking. Not worth the emotional investment of sympathy.
Their night passed in silence.
The next morning was another four hours of walking until he finally reached the village the watchman had pointed him to. A place called Zelmoor. Though calling it a village was a bit of a stretch. It was more of a military outpost for Guardians working in the area.
There were only a few dozen farms found surrounding it, not nearly enough for the village’s population. It was a high risk, high reward area for the farmers who settled down here. The risk was plain to see, the thick stones walls surrounding the town were decorated with deep scars that left the imagination in awe at what sort of great beasts could have inflicted them.
Symon was stopped briefly at the gate to be questioned by the guards but was soon let through without issue. Many of the usual taxes and travel restrictions were dropped here to encourage the region’s development.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The inside of the city was impressive; stone walls, brick streets, a sewage system. A consequence of magic if he had to guess. It wasn't just a military tool, it had widespread applications in civilian life as well which would allow the construction of such infrastructure with relative ease.
The industries of the village also made it clear this was a frontier town. The vast majority of commercial activity that Symon could see was related to Guardian's needs. There was simply far too high of a concentration in related industries. There were blacksmiths, armorers, fletchers, healer sanctuaries, arcane shops and the like on every street.
At the center was a watchtower which loomed over the landscape at over one-hundred feet tall. The bottom half of the square tower was built out of stone blocks, each larger than a man. On top the construction switched to wood, with two rings of crenellations stacked one atop the other, each occupied with a dozen people.
There was a stream of incoming and outgoing carrier pigeons, and dozens of spell formations being managed.
At the base of this tower was an outpost of the Guardian’s Guild, and Symon’s destination.
Inside he saw people from all walks of life. Everyone from the simple farmer putting in a request, to the lowly herb gatherer still in their teenage years, to guardians clad in great armor and enchanted gear.
In the corner sat a team which gave off a bone chilling aura. Between them a great sword lay, its length taking up the table from end to end, and its width as great as the torso of any who sat near it. A slayer's sword.
There were big shots here, and that meant this place couldn’t be just any village along the frontier. Truly dangerous beasts must be nearby.
At one end of the building a large reception desk was arranged, with half a dozen clerks arranged behind it. Queues were arranged before each of them, though they varied in length and Symon had the impression that some had far more capable Guardian's in their queue than others.
These were the quest agents of the guardian's guild, and their role was far more complex than simply distributing quests and payment. Each of these agents had their own personal incentives and business relationships with guardian teams. They would bid on quests to assign to one of their teams, poach talent, make deals with those offering quests, negotiate profits. Each was in ruthless competition with each other.
The guardians in the room were usually just one member of a team, one entrusted with negotiations for the whole group.
The floor was as chaotic as the scene of a wall street trading floor. There was constant shouting, pushing, and bargaining. Guardians extolling how their team was the best fit for the job.
From a hole that passed through to the top of the watchtower, a stream of papers came down, caught by a herald who announced that some quest or another was completed or that some new monster den was spotted while clerks rushed to update a great map on the wall behind it all.
A line of markings on the map formed the outline of a front line, and from it Symon could clearly see that their position was quite precarious. This village, Zelmoor, formed a salient pushed deep into the wildlands. It was across a river and through a forest. An ambitious position, one no doubt only tenable due to a lack of strategic thinking on the part of the monsters who could not think to interrupt the supply lines.
At one corner of the reception area were two clerks who had both a dress and atmosphere which was completely different from the rest.
These were direct representatives of the guild. They were the ones who would ordinarily receive quests and new adventurers and decide on certain parameters before opening them up to the guild agents.
Luckily for Symon. One of them was available, a young woman with a light smile.
"Hello. I'd like to register as a guardian."
She took one look at Symon and formed a complicated expression.
"I understand. Then the registration fee will be 5 silver." She said.
"There's no fee in the frontier regions." Symon responded, pointing at a notice on the bulletin board which said as much. Was she trying to scam him? She didn’t seem the type.
"You can read?"
"Yes, no problem. I can read, write, and do math."
"Then why?" The receptionist furrowed her brow. "Do you have any equipment?"
"None whatsoever."
"What about..."
"Listen." Symon interrupted. "I understand your concern and recognize that you are trying to stop me from making a mistake. I look the part of someone driven here of some desperation right?" He spread his arms to highlighted the tattered pieces of clothing that hardly covered him. "But I assure you that I know what I am doing."
"Very well. Then since you can read, please fill out this form. If you have any question you can let me know."
"Thank you."
Symon had not been so detailed in his world building to outline exactly what a guardian registration form looked like, so this was his first time encountering it. The basics were there of course. Name, age, gender. He registered as Symon. Male. Though he was uncertain about his age. He didn't have a mirror to look at, so even guessing was a bit difficult. All he had to go on was a vague notion that he was slightly younger than when his prior life had ended. 19 was the number he settled on.
Then there was the question of his talents and role. The Guardians Guild was an organization which focused on combat operations against monsters. Of course, combat wasn't the sort of thing anyone could just jump into. It required time and training.
Symon knew he wanted to train into becoming a combat mage, but he wasn't sure how. For all the worldbuilding he had done, he hadn't thought that much about how talented combatants would come about.
"Excuse me, I have a question."
"Yes what is it?"
"I'm not sure what to put for my role. I'm certain of where my talents lie, but I don't have the skills for it yet."
"I understand. Most new Guardians register as a Laborer unless they have prior experience." She said. "As for your future, the guild leverages its relationship with guardians to offer lessons for a good price. If you look here at section three, you can describe what specialization you would like to develop. Underneath that right here is where you can select how much of your pay for the guild to set aside for these lessons. When you and your fellow Guardians have saved enough, the funds will be pooled by the guild for group lessons."
"I see." Symon stroked the beard stubble that he no longer had. "That's a sensible way to do it. The guild gets a pipeline of talent. New guardians get access to lessons normally outside their reach. And the teachers get an easy payout without any overhead to organizing it all. Everybody wins."
The receptionist nodded along. "If you find that sort of thing interesting, you might want to consider working for the guild in an administrative capacity. If you really can read, write, and do math, then it should be no problem for you."
"Well, I do find it interesting, however such work doesn't align with my goals."
"A pity. What are those goals if you don't mind me asking?"
Symon chuckled. "Well, I never thought I would be such a person, but I find myself in a position where I need to get stronger."
"Is that so?"
It was a common story between guardians. They lusted for power. It was part of a culture of the pursuit of immortality which was thought to come naturally with enough power.
"Yes. That's how it is. I'll spare you the details. Anyways, how long will it take to save up enough for some lessons?"
"Ah. Well, for you it shouldn’t take too long if you can read, write, and do math. You’ll be able to take up some missions that most can’t. Though it also depends on what classes you’re looking for.”
"Do you have a table with costs for different classes?"
"Well no. Guardians move around a lot. So we usually don't start negotiating until there are enough interested parties and enough funds. Do you already have a specialization in mind?"
"Combat mage. Specifically in non-Akashic spells."
"Akashic spells?" The receptionist asked.
"You don't know what those are?"
The receptionist shook her head.
"Have you ever heard it before?"
"I don't think so?"
"So that's how it is? I see. In that case, the Atrarian school of magic has what I'm looking for."
"Uhhh... Atrarian school of magic? Where have I heard that before?"
"Oh? I'm surprised you've heard of it at all. It's an experimental magic used almost entirely in academic circles."
"Huh? When you say academic circles, you mean?"
"Yes, the schools that primarily the nobility and merchant classes go to."
"Uh... are you sure you won't consider something else? Magic lessons are already expensive, I don't think such a prestigious school would be possible..."
"Well I don't think that's how it is. They're a strange lot, I think their curiosity would be enough to meet with one of them. Think about it. A new guardian who registers and wants to learn only a weak experimental magic? It would certainly grab my attention. So, do you know anyone who practices it?"
The receptionist thought for a minute before shaking her head. "No one comes to mind."
"I see. Well, that's my goal. If you kept and eye and and ear out then I'd be grateful. In the meantime I'll take whatever basics lessons I can get in physical combat. How much do guardian's usually set aside for their lessons?"