Dallarath shook off the blood from his sword. The battle had gone surprisingly well. The ogres posed little to no threat and their encounter with the creatures lasted less than a minute.
They weren’t even supposed to be five of them. The guild assignment they took reported sightings of only two ogres — not a small raiding party of five.
He would have preferred to avoid them, but Siege charged into them with abandon. The dwarf left them no choice but to engage — though it seemed like he could have handled the lot on his own.
“What happened to us?” Aven’R asked. There was doubt in her voice underneath the astonishment. “Five ogres would have given us a hard time weeks ago. Now, they barely stood a chance.”
“Well, we did go up against demons,” Siege answered. “Compared to two dozen demons in one day — ogres are a walk in the park.”
Dal nodded. Siege had it bad in their last training. While they each had to face six demons consecutively — the dwarf was there facing the same demons on each of their turns. He wondered how he even managed to keep fighting.
Even with healing — if the Scourge’s brand of healing even counted as healing — the mental stress and fatigue must have been overwhelming.
“The Scourge’s training did something to us,” Gwin added her thoughts. “It made us more….“
“More what?” he asked, urging her to finish her explanation.
“Exactly,” Gwin replied.
Dal frowned. They were indeed — more. Whether it was strength, speed, toughness, or magic ability — they seem to have improved leaps and bounds from their previous selves.
“Did going to hell make us stronger?” Remilla chimed in. “Or was it the fighting against demons?”
“Probably both,” Siege answered. “Most likely, ‘twas the demon-fighting.
He had to agree with the dwarf. Fighting demons were usually the job of heroes and champions — or was it because of fighting demons that ordinary adventurers and soldiers elevated themselves to become — as Gwin put it — more.
“We also fought them in hell,” the dwarf continued. “The demons that get summoned here are shadows in comparison — like the ones that attacked the duke’s estate.”
Dal nodded. What Siege said made sense. He had an inkling that the dwarf probably thought it through beforehand or maybe his insights came from the wizard.
“How did we even survive the trip?” Aven’R asked. “I don’t know about the rest of you — but I was fighting at a disadvantage without my bows. I wonder how I survived one demon — much more six of them.”
“Siege? You went through the Scourge’s training more times than the rest of us combined,” Dal started. “How did you survive?”
Siege scratched his beard. “The wizard the demons,” he explained. “We were probably fighting the runts the first few times. Then when we got used to ‘em, we went on to bigger fish.”
Dal frowned. Experience wasn’t the only factor in their survival against the foes the Scourge pitted against them. He could note changes in his body. Not actual changes — but something made him faster and stronger.
In the battle with the ogres, he managed to block a strike without getting blown away. That would have been impossible given the creature’s size and strength compared to his.
“Fighting demons makes you stronger,” he asserted, quite sure of his assumption. “Everyone here realizes the changes in themselves — it would be foolish not to acknowledge them. It’s probably how the Scourge grew so strong. Who knows how many demons he’s killed?”
“More than you can count,” Siege asserted. “I heard him talk about demons and demon lords as if they were a constant irritation to him. Not a danger or a threat, mind you — just something to be swatted away like flies.”
“As long as I don’t grow horns or a tail, then I’m good,” Aven’R joked. “We won’t be growing horns or tails, will we?”
“Probably not,” Gwin answered. “Unless you really want to.” She allowed her words to sink in before continuing. “The magic or essence we absorbed from the demons we killed changed our bodies. You three are clearly stronger and faster, I can hold and control more mana, and Rem is probably the same as me.”
“I run faster too,” Rem added. “And I don’t tire as quickly.”
“What I’m saying is that the changes are probably subconscious,” Gwin sighed. “So if you consciously willed the essences to form wings — you might get them.”
“So, you’re saying that if I kill more demons, I can grow — hehehe — taller?” Siege asked, though it was apparent being taller was the last thing on his mind.
***
“We want you to lead a handful of men against the Scourge,” said a cloaked figure. “We know of your prowess, Mister… Paradise — a mere wizard shouldn’t be a problem.”
He had taken to calling himself Reef Paradise. He thought it was a better name than “Sticks” — certainly more dignified.
The name came to him on his first resurrection. He had survived grave injuries before. He even wondered if he was part troll. His death in Soleron was different. There was no waking in mangled armor or torn clothing — he woke up naked in a shallow reef. He later found out that the bodies — including his — were burned in a great pyre. It took him a while to find the dagger — the one he swore to return to its owner.
That particular death expanded his horizons. He no longer feared decapitation — or any manner of death that he previously thought would be permanent. However, fear of death gave way to the fear of incarceration — particularly, permanent incarceration.
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Living forever trapped in a dungeon was a prospect worse than death — especially when he didn’t know how long he would live. His hands strayed to his chest. The thing he most valued was there — an enchanted bauble that would disintegrate his body with a command word.
“I can do the work myself,” he asserted, “just give me his location.”
Reef knew the Scourge was somewhere in Bountiful. He was working as an adventurer in Forge — amassing gold to properly equip himself for their meeting. His most recent client was a happy coincidence.
He had built a reputation as a tough adventurer in Forge. He took the most dangerous missions for the guild — often by himself. There was no point in having companions. Having people die on your team could ruin his reputation — having them live would expose his secrets.
“The job isn’t something a single man can accomplish,” his client insisted. “The Scourge’s base will be overwhelmed by beasts from the Great Forest — perhaps even a hydra.”
“A hydra, you say?”
Things were getting interesting.
***
“So trolls aren’t weak to fire spells?”
“Not really,” Gwin answered. “Magical fire affects them the same as other spells — but you’ll also want to burn their bodies to stop their spread.”
“Why?”
“Goblins, orcs, and trolls — their bodies contain spores,” she explained. “The spores give rise to goblins, then orcs, then trolls. Dozens of goblins could spring up from a single unburned body.”
Teaching was Remilla’s forte. She wanted little to do with young apprentices — but the Scourge’s offer was too tempting.
A single ring in exchange for a day’s worth of lessons — how could she refuse? One ring held enough mana for five mages or five hours of constantly slinging spells — and it was no ordinary mana. At first, she thought it was quintessence, mana that came from the divine. Seeing how the Scourge was more infernal than angelic, it probably came from another source. But there was no mistaking its purity.
“So what magic should we use against trolls?”
“Cold is always best,” Gwin answered. “Ice hinders their movements, making them slower and less dangerous. You can burn them once they’re down.”
The day’s lecture was supposed to be a practical one but she couldn’t resist checking how the students were faring under the Scourge’s tutelage.
“To the fields then,” she smiled. “Let’s see what you’ve learned so far.”
They moved from the barn to the open fields. Mineva told her about the Scourge’s directives when taking to the open. They were strange but she could see where the wizard was coming from.
The apprentices lined themselves by specialty — earth mages at the front, followed by fire mages, and ice mages last.
Gwin knew they weren’t limited to single elements, same as most mages. Their matrices were more flexible than rigid, though the absence of wind magics bothered her.
“Go.”
She expected flying rocks or maybe even spears — she did not expect the ground to shake and crevices to open. Large chunks of earth were lifted from the ground, compressed into boulders, and then slammed back down.
The next line of apprentices stepped forward, blanketing the field with flames. There were no simple fire arrows of flame spears — everywhere was conflagration and destruction. The ground was melting into magma and the heat was close to becoming unbearable.
The last of the apprentices displayed their prowess by covering the conflagration with a sheet of ice with the thickness of a man’s torso. Explosions rocked the field as the fires and molten ground clashed with the enveloping ice before being consumed in white.
Gwin was aghast in shock. This was no display of magic by apprentices — it was war wizards given reckless abandon.
“None of you have spells that target a single person?” she asked, though she could probably guess the answer.
“No, mistress,” answered one of the older girls. “We can limit the scope of our magic to a small circle though.”
“Show me this circle,” she demanded.
The girl frowned, squinting her eyes as if casting a difficult spell.
A pillar of fire rose from the ice-covered ground, giving her a sense of what the Scourge’s apprentices considered a small circle. It was ten feet in diameter — large enough to destroy a house or obliterate a crowd of people.
It was Gwin’s turn to frown at the smiling girl. The Scourge skipped the basics when teaching the kids — going straight to area spells that dealt the most damage. He turned the young mages into hammers — when they could be better served by being knives.
“Watch,” she said, picking up a wayward rock and using her magic to make it float to the center of the field.
Three crimson darts flew from her hand, striking the stone target and blasting it to pieces.
She turned to the apprentices expecting understanding — only to find confusion and ridicule.
“Mister Scourge told us projectile magic was the worst kind,” a boy exclaimed.
“Yeah, why even cast a spell — if a bow can do the same thing?” an older boy piled on.
Gwin was at a loss of words. Their mindset had already been twisted by the wizard. She would have a hard time convincing them of the folly of limiting themselves to wide-area spells.
“What if your friend was fighting against an orc or a demon,” she tared at the apprentices to add gravity to her words, “how would you help him?”
“Isolate the demon’s position then fire a spell or three,” one of the girls answered.
“What if your friend was surrounded by three of them?”
“Well, that’s easy,” an older boy raised his hand. “Blast the four of them and hope my friend survives.”
Gwin’s shoulders slumped in frustration, seeing as most of the apprentices were nodding at the answer.
“What if it was you?” she pointed to one of the silent boys. “What’s your name?”
“Ilvec.” the boy meekly answered.
“How would your friends save you from enemies that have you surrounded?” Gwin turned to the group and glowered at them to prove her point.
Ilvec shrugged and walked towards the melted portion of the field, standing in the center of the circle.
The oldest of the girls stepped forward and made a fumbling effort to bow at her.
“I am Jinea,” she smiled awkwardly. “This is what I would do.”
A large pillar of fire erupted from the ground beneath Ilvec’s feet. The pillar was even wider than the last one — a sign that Jinea was not limiting her spell like the previous girl.
“What? Why?” Gwin stared in shock at the conflagration. “Your friend was inside.’
“He was,” the girl shrugged. “If he doesn’t survive that — he shouldn’t be here in the first place.”
The fires died down revealing a singed and frowning boy.
“Was that the best you could do, Jin?” Ilvec mocked. “That didn’t even tickle me.”
“Why you little brat!”
Another pillar of fire erupted underneath the boy’s feet, followed by a torrent of ice spears.
Gwin could hear mocking laughter from the boy — and any semblance of discipline was broken as the other apprentices joined in. Some paired themselves and dueled, but most randomly hurled their spells with reckless abandon.
It was chaos, it was recklessness, it was probably the Scourge’s way of teaching.