Interlude 1 - Power

As Clark slept, he dreamt. He dreamt of his mother, of the many things he had to do, and of his life. He dreamt of dreams, of possibilities, and of passions. He dreamt of power. He dreamt of power so overwhelming, no one could reach him. He dreamt of power that could pierce the stars, or even bend them to his will. He dreamt…of Xyr.

Xyr descended through the clouds. They had canceled the flying spell a few thousand feet ago, plummeting head-first instead. Wind roared in their ears, water droplets forming and dropping off of the hem of their robe. As the light mist of clouds wet their face, the archmage recalled their purpose today. Per the deal with the Corthax, they were to obliterate the army approaching their capital. Xyr was sure there was much more to the story, but it wasn’t important. All that mattered was spreading their name, and expanding their fortune. This deal would accomplish that finely. As they pierced through the clouds, tendrils of mist followed, seeming to grasp at their skyward feet.

Xyr withdrew a hand from their cloak, where they had been clutching a steel cube. It was about the size of their fist. They flung it from their body, and evoked some basic magic with a short mental phrase, “Dispel Momentum.” Their body was instantly stopped in air, though Xyr didn’t experience any adverse effects from the sudden stop. They followed up with a barked, “Fly.” Bright magic surrounded their form, and Xyr felt the customary feeling of weightlessness following the spell. The spell held Xyr’s robe, preventing it from falling over their head. Now, they were hanging upside-down, able to look ‘up’ as the cube continued to plummet towards the ground. Indeed, below was the army, just on time.

A massive army had been mustered by the enemies of the Corthax, ground covered in the complex shifting of an innumerable amount of humans marching at once. Even at this height, Xyr could hear the sounds of their boots stamping the ground. Xyr looked over their forces as the cube continued to fall. Of course, due to their mind’s acceleration, everything was much slower than it really was. Even now, the tendrils of the cloud hadn’t begun to dissipate.

The army must have been thousands strong. The details of the infantry mattered little to Xyr, and their gaze picked through the ranks, looking for a distinctive unit. If there was anything Xyr knew about mundane mages, they were lazy. As such, if anyone was going to be working their warhorse during travel, it would be them. Xyr simply unfocused their eyes, and let their gaze naturally be guided towards the spaced-out collection of mages. There they were! Riding on exhausted horses were a set of thirty-six mages. In white robes, they were allotted a small amount of distance from the rest of the surrounding army. In the middle and near the back of the formation…yes, that seemed right. Xyr calculated the speed of the cube, and decided it was going too fast.

“Suspend Momentum,” Xyr thought, and the cube immediately froze in place, similar to their previous halt. However, the cube’s energy was still stored, and when Xyr released the spell, it would continue to fall in the same way. A blade, ready to fall. Xyr simply watched the army advance for an agonizing few moments. It was almost outrageous, how slow the average human moved. Xyr waited until the mage unit was just below the cube, then released the spell, immediately casting another, “Square Momentum, Twinned.” The cube shot downwards at a massive speed. Xyr waited for a split second, and followed up again, “Square Momentum, Twinned.”

The cube broke the sound barrier. The boom echoed outwards, but the sound wouldn’t even reach the ears of the army. It would be too late at that point. One of the mages looked upwards, and called out. Xyr recalled the spell they were using: Danger Sense. Of course, at this distance, there was nothing they could do. A few of the faster mages looked up as well, throwing out anti-magic projectiles. They did nothing to the cube. After all, it was just a really fast cube. Nothing magic about it.

The cube connected with the ground. In the split second the friction of the ground turned the cube’s exterior molten, Xyr focused their eyes. Their gaze pierced below the ground, spotting that tiny speck of light and targeting it.

“Cube Heat, Twinned.”

The world went white. Xyr grinned.

The blast of heat was large enough to activate Xyr’s wards, which glowed blue as they protected the flying mage from the heat. Those near the origin of the blast were completely erased, the heat dissolving them into nothing but particles of carbon as the shockwave either killed or knocked down most of the army. Flaming wreckage littered the field, bodies haphazardly laid down to rest. Xyr’s upside-down smile loomed over the battlefield. They could’ve righted themselves, but what fun was that? After all, Xyr wanted to make sure they had a good look at the carnage.

As intended, the mages were completely wiped out. The rest of the army was attempting to muster. Well, we couldn’t have that, Xyr thought. They rubbed another steel cube under their robe, before shaking their head. No, they couldn’t show too much of their hand…after all, part of the agreement was to leave survivors. What next, then? Xyr idly summoned a few large fireballs, the crackling heat constrained by magic as they considered their next move. It was largely to call attention to themselves to weed out any last motes of resistance.

It worked, to Xyr’s surprise. They watched as a male figure within the ranks of infantry whipped off a cloak and spoke to himself. Flying magic enveloped the figure, and he took to the skies. Their flying magic was unoptimized in comparison to Xyr’s. It was the difference between a raft and sailing vessel. It was only a few seconds before he arrived at Xyr. They took the opportunity to yawn.

The challenger - what was their name again? - slammed into Xyr, stabbing at their gut. The sword was blocked by the physical wards of Xyr, but the mere force of the attack was enough to override Xyr’s fly spell, sending them sailing back into the clouds. Magical sparks were cast across the sky from the collision, glittering in the darkened sky. Xyr noted the spell used, “Empower Strike II.” Xyr smiled as the sight of the challenger was enveloped by the mist of the overcast weather. What a simpleton.

Aemu’s eyes scoured the clouds. Where was that blasted mage? The sword in their hands quivered, the sight of his army being decimated invading his mind. What foul magic did this mage use that wasn’t affected by the anti-magic defenses of the mages? Aemu tightened his grip, exhaling shakily. Steel yourself, he thought to himself. This was a foe too great to fight with a distracted mind. He waited, his eyes searching desperately for the next sign of the mage.

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Suddenly, the side of his face exploded with heat. Something - too fast for the eye to see - blasted just over his shoulder, blowing away the clouds it originated from sailing towards the ground as the mere passage of the projectile burned his face. He was too stunned to even react to the pain, his cheek crackling with agonizing burns. Revealed in the hole in the clouds was the mage, their grin large enough to fill the sky. Aemu was stunned. What just happened?

He turned slowly, looking over his shoulder at the burning landscape. His men…destroyed in a moment. He was unable to locate their faces in the destruction, but he could see them, anyways…their eyes filled with fear as this mage killed them. Aemu turned back to the mage, magic crackling with rage as it turned in his gut. Roaring, he charged, his magic pushing him upwards towards the sneering bastard. He reared back, and brought his blade down upon the mage’s head.

His blade stopped dead, causing Aemu’s arms to tremble with the force. It was like…hitting a steel wall. Magical sparks spilled out to either side of the impact, slowly fading to nothingness as that damned sneer twinkled from under their wards.

“What the hell? What is the meaning of this?” Aemu pulled his sword back, falling into a defensive stance barely three paces from the mage. They smiled for a moment, before taunting, “Meaning? Even if I explained it to you…it’d be too late. You’re strong, aren’t you?” The mage’s voice seemed to pierce Aemu’s very mind. What a cocky bastard…Aemu wished to strike again, but his muscles hesitated. It wouldn’t do anything, would it? He grit his teeth, before opening his mouth. He closed it again. He wished to say he was strong, but…in the face of this menace…could he believe it? This mage was just toying with him. He forced himself to make eye contact with the mage.

Steel. The mage was staring directly at him, their gaze eating up everything about him. Aemu shivered, changing his mind quickly. The mage wasn’t toying with him; they were still on guard. Aemu could see the bloodlust behind that gaze clearer than any other beast. He drew in a shaky breath, before exhaling, “Yes. I am.” He gripped his blade, readying himself. He would strike this mage down with his own magic. Yes, with a surprise attack. It wasn’t honorable, but…the plumes of smoke rising beneath his feet told him it didn’t matter against this foe.

“Ah, excellent. I am Xyr, the mage of all mages. Master of the cosmic forces, and the demise of your army. Where were you from again?” Aemu grit his teeth as the mage went on, “It doesn’t matter. It seems you’re something of a leader among the men. In that case, live, and tell this to your kingdom…or commonwealth, or nation, whatever it is.”

Xyr, the mage, lifted their hand.

“Magic has returned to this world, and it will take all. Tell them we can negotiate: they surrender, and I let them live.” Xyr raised their hand towards the heavens. Aemu shivered, for some reason.

“You think you can get away with this? The countries of this world will strike you down!” Aemu shouted at the mage. Something changed about them. They weren’t focused on Aemu anymore, instead seeming distracted.

“Oh, since you’re going to be my messenger, I guess I don’t need the rest of the armies? Delightful. I suppose some conventional magic would be good to develop. Direct in intent.” Aemu’s breath began to come faster. This bastard…wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Was he really that insignificant? He silently began to fly towards the mage, beginning to charge with his breath behind his teeth. At the last moment, he let out a pained, enraged roar. He would kill this mage, at all costs.

“Empower Strike!” He cried, all of his magic pouring into his weapon. He raised it, and…

“Steel Lance, Duplicitous, Seeking.”

This should clean up the remnants of the army, shouldn’t it? It was costly, but worth it to ensure all of the others were thoroughly killed. Thousands of the namesake lances began to fill the sky above Xyr, the mass made manifest through the mage’s magical manipulation. Xyr cocked their head, and poured a bit more magic into the casting, increasing the number by a few thousand. It paid to be sure.

Oh, was that warrior coming towards them? Well, they’d already gone to the trouble of casting the spell…

They released one of the lances, which dropped onto the back of the warrior. The lance pierced through the front of the man, gruesomely stopping their momentum with their very body. Excellent, Xyr thought, a nonlethal blow. The man coughed with the mere impact of being stopped, dropping his sword as he reached for the protruding lance in shock. His flying magic dissipated, and he began to slide downwards.

Ah, it wouldn’t be good if he fell. Xyr tilted their head, and another lance struck into the man at an angle, holding him aloft. He jolted again, his body tense with agony. His voice rasped, his breath coming fast. His blood ran down the length of the lances, dripping down into the sky below.

Xyr floated over to the defenseless man, touching the lances and imbuing them with magical commands. In a while, they would cease to float, dropping the man along with the lances. Then, they would heal the man continuously for…a while longer, Xyr thought. They thought of some large number, and called it good enough. That way, the man could heal off whatever happened from him falling. As a last touch, Xyr fused the lances together in the man’s body, so he could keep them in him until the healing magic ran out. A parting gift.

Xyr sighed. Well…that was less entertaining than they had hoped. In the end, they didn’t even need anything special to deal with this fool. They left the dying fool to their fate and task, and began to fly away. Back to construction.

Aemu coughed again, his blood pouring from his gut. Was this it? Was the mage going to leave him like this, a display in the sky? Why…why did he get speared the second time? So he wouldn’t fall? Did this mage want him to live? Why…

He coughed again, his body panicking at the injuries he’d sustained. His face itched with burns. Now that the adrenaline of the situation wore off, his pains began to fill his mind. Why?

The clouds cleared for a moment, and Aemu could see down onto the battlefield. His men were barely a fraction of their number, doing their best to recover men from the flaming wreckage, as they were taught by Aemu. There were plenty dead, and many more on their way, clenching in the tear-stained hands of their kin. Aemu jolted in his weaponed restraint, groaning as he remembered the other lances.

“Run,” he weakly croaked. His voice didn’t make it more than a dozen feet before being whipped away by wind. His men…they needed to run, but they didn’t know the danger they were in. Aemu clawed at the lances in his gut, gnashing his teeth in response to the pain. He cried out, “Run!”

The lances began to fall.

Aemu understood why he was left alive. That mage wanted him to report to his superiors. As for why he was suspended in such a position…

The mage - Xyr - wanted him to watch.

The first lances began to strike the helpless soldiers below, and Aemu sobbed. The mixture of his tears and blood began to drip down the length of the lance, falling and being scattered by the wind.

Scattered…

Clark awoke.