Dylan opened his eyes. His head was still throbbing from the blow that left him unconscious. He remembered walking home a bit earlier than the others. His mother was cooking veal, and the boy would never miss such a meaty meal.

He was distracted and not paying attention to the road — otherwise, his earthsense would have prevented the mess he was in.

Damn.

He berated himself. Warren — no, Warden — constantly told them to always be vigilant. Of course, their self-appointed leader probably meant onlookers and strangers who might see their display of earth magic, instead of the kidnappers that he encountered.

They were skilled. Their techniques made it impossible to bring his full strength to bear — and Dylan felt they were trying to capture him and not kill him.

Was it the mages that Rikki feared? Would he be strapped somewhere and examined to see how he manipulated the earth?

It didn’t seem like it. He expected mages would provide better accommodations — possibly ones with runes on the floor, like the ones in the Scourge’s dining room.

Thugs? Slavers?

He remembered the sudden attack. He was alone, but he imagined he managed to give them a surprise. Two of the four were down before he lost consciousness. Dylan imagined their injuries were more severe than his.

Dylan tried to move — finding himself bound by rough ropes. His assailants didn’t bother to bind his feet, seeing as he was trapped in some sort of basement.

The room was bare. It had stone walls to keep things from collapsing — but it didn’t even have a proper floor.

It didn't have a proper floor!

Dylan remembered how Shelby could phase through earth. Rikki even went along in one of her dives. He remembered hearing how the littlest of their group said it was like swimming, although the water was kinda itchy.

The boy sat up. He placed his bound hands on the ground, feeling the bare earth with his palms as he did with his feet.

He searched for a connection — clearing his thoughts and pleading for the Earth to answer his call.

There.

Dylan could feel the Earth pulsing. It was less like a heart beating and more like the waves of the ocean crashing on the shore.

The connection was there. Now all he had to do was use it.

He clutched his stone amulet. It held power — siphoned and stored from the Earth. There was probably enough in there for half a day of heavy magics. Not that they knew any.

Dylan wanted to escape — but phasing through the earth was no easy task.

There was this fear of the earth swallowing him and burying him alive.

Could he even move? Or breath?

Rikki said it was just like swimming — but Dylan never swam a day in his life. He didn’t even like taking baths. Now, he was supposed to swim in earth?

He calmed himself, noticing his breathing was becoming too rapid and shallow. He needed to harness his fear not get consumed by it — if only he knew how.

Footsteps and voices.

The men would probably come for him soon.

Dylan tried shaping the stone walls to block the stairs, finding his magic ineffective. He remembered the dwarf saying something about earth magic only working on natural environments — which was why druids and other nature mages kept out of the cities.

The footsteps were getting closer. He didn’t have enough time.

Dylan closed his eyes and willed himself to become one with the earth.

He slowly sank — only to come rushing upwards as his fear got the best of him.

He shook his head. There would be no phasing for him for now — maybe even ever.

However, his brief connection with the earth alerted him to the presence of the others. They knew where he was — and they were coming for him.

***

Valev darted to the left, avoiding a flail-like appendage. He sprung in the opposite direction to avoid another.

Motes of light filled the air as his magic took form. The white snail was formidable — but it was still a mere beast.

He held two daggers in reverse grips, their blades now lined with red fire. Sacher would need to pay a premium for this mission. The gargantuan snail was something he conveniently left out.

Valev could see his men fighting off boys as kept the snail in check. The bastards were strong — their lone captive attested to that. Still, the outcome was inevitable. His men were armed with proper swords while the boys had mere cudgels and staves. His men were bloodied by more than a dozen lives — the boys probably never killed anything bigger than a rabbit.

His men would win — but all their efforts at discretion would be lost. There was no way more than a dozen farmhands would not be missed — although, they could probably make it look like a bandit attack.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Valev jumped back. His inattention to the snail almost cost him his head. He struck back, managing to plunge a dagger into one of the snail’s flail-like stalks.

His dagger erupted with power, burning a big chunk of the flail stalk and severing it. The flames were green — not really hellfire. The chant was more of an intimidation tactic. It was probably lost on the snail.

The creature paused, probably shaken by its injury. It kept its flails close and charged.

It was fast. Too fast.

Valev’s daggers lost their fire as the assassin was forced to divert his mana into dodging the snail’s attack.

How could something so large move so fast? And it’s a goddamned snail!

He dodged again, his dagger bouncing harmlessly on the creature’s shell. He could feel himself tiring — his movements getting a bit slower and his steps heavier.

Wait!

The assassin lined his body with mana, compensating for the increased gravity. Who would have thought the snail could use magic?

It continued its futile assault, dashing back and forth as he used precise movement and timing to dodge its easily predictable ramming attacks.

The snail stopped — even retreating.

Even a simple animal could probably realize the futility of battling him.

Valev stared at the creature — judging if it was going to attack again. He turned towards his men to help them, but something made him turn back to the snail.

It looked smug — even satisfied. Two of its flails were bent down touching the ground.

The assassin’s gaze dropped to the ground.

Glass.

He could see the ground lined with thin strips of glass. They didn’t seem to be random, more like —

Valev collapsed. It was as if all the strength in his body was drained. He couldn’t even lift a finger or blink his eyes.

What was happening? Did the snail draw a ward on the ground?

He saw the snail slowly approach him. It enveloped his body in its slimy flesh, consuming him as he lost consciousness.

***

Jeremy scanned the shelves of Evergreen’s library for any mention of the cloud of teeth that prevented him from usurping an entire hell.

Did the beast spawn the rocks that made its denizens complacent? Or did it vanquish them without needing to use the rocks?

He attempted to get rid of the beast many times. Spells had little to no effect, and he was in no position to attempt brute force on a beast that could make Shelby look tiny.

The most likely options were some sort of flying hydra, a mobile nest of snakes, or some form of abomination with mouthed tentacles. He had yet to figure out the smoke.

Was it a conduit to somewhere like he was? He was probably a better conduit since he didn’t leak as much. But what plane leaked smoke? Or was it just darkness?

A sharp pain almost made him drop the book he was holding — Shelby was hurt!

Jeremy stood, ready to open a portal then and there — but the emotions crossing from his link to his familiar made him pause.

Shelby seemed determined, then amused, then proud.

She was probably exploring or experimenting on something and got herself hurt. Probably nothing to worry about.

Still, he wanted to see his noble mount. It seemed like he was in Evergreen for months, though it was barely past a week.

The monotony of battle was draining — even if the vanguard didn’t lose as many men since he started joining them.

The encounters seemed repetitive — even futile.

He wanted to go after a spire. Not one that was already up, but one that was being built. Jeremy knew what the energies the spires produced felt like — he could easily lead the vanguard into a spire before it turned the ground to ice.

“Here!”

Jeremy turned to one of the apprentices loaned to him by Evergreen. They were supposed to research the spires — but a little diversion to further his cause probably wouldn’t be held against him.

The apprentice sped to him, holding an open book.

“Here it is, Sir Scourge,” she pointed at a page. “Gavroth the Devourer.”

Jeremy looked at the entry, finding the drawings similar to Cloudy.

Gavroth? What kind of name is that? It’s not like cloudy introduced himself.

“It says it attacked an elven city more than six centuries ago. It was banished to an outer plane together with all the inhabitants of the city.”

“No minotaurs?”

“What?”

“Sorry,” Jeremy waved dismissively. “Did the banishment fail? Why did the whole city end up banished?”

“It says the entity was so powerful,” the mage squinted, “that it took the sacrifice of all the city’s remaining residents to send it away.”

“I see.”

He could easily open a portal in Evergreen and draw the creature. The citadel certainly had enough men to fuel a proper banishment — and banishment techniques certainly improved over the centuries. Jeremy guessed he could probably spare a third of the population.

Then again, his father was there. He would frown upon the mess — and Jeremy didn’t want another long talk.

***

Valev opened his eyes. He could feel the abundant mana around him — enough mana to turn an apprentice into an archwizard or a warrior into a conquering hero.

Where was he?

He tried to stand up, noticing that he still couldn’t move.

Panic filled his mind. His eyes darted back and forth scanning for something — anything that could give him a clue where he was and what was happening.

There was a deer — a dead deer half-buried on the ground.

Valev looked at his own body, finding he was similarly buried.

He scanned the room once again, finding various animals in different stages of decay — mushrooms growing on some of the bodies.

No.

The assassin tried to hold his breath — even willing his heart to stop. The amount of mana in the room would sustain him for years, even decades. He didn’t want to believe he was fated to be a bed for mushrooms — no, there had to be a way to die.

It was futile. He could feel his body — but he could only move his eyes and nothing more.

Valev screamed.

A silent scream that nobody would hear.