A smell of freshness was everywhere around. There was no refined blend of taste and aromas that filled the imperial capital. Wildness was in the air in the very real sense—a wildness that Dallion had forgotten after spending even a short while away. Scarier than that, the further away he got, the more he saw the greatest city of the empire for what it was really worth: a glamorous flycatcher that gently suffocated everyone inside into inadequacy.
“Now you have a taste of what it’s like being imprisoned in a realm,” Gleam said, flying inches away from Dallion’s face.
Dallion wanted to tell her that the two couldn’t compare. He had voluntarily gone and stayed in the imperial capital. Thinking about it, though, that wasn’t exactly true. Back on Earth, he had both witnessed and experienced the effects of peer pressure. In this world, they were a lot more real, like forces of nature. When the Moons had warned him that now he’d have to fight for his opinion and acceptance in the world, Dallion had thought it would be through duels and battles. He had been so very much mistaken. The domain of the imperial capital was a combination of wills; the biggest belonged to the emperor, but a lot of the imposing nobles also left their mark.
“Don’t worry about it,” the spectral shardfly added. “It only hurts the first time.”
“I doubt that.”
A cluster of storm clouds flickered in the distance. Despite their size, they were a natural occurrence. All the crimson fury cloud forts had remained way behind, circling the capitol’s territory in a regular pattern. As many people had said, only mercenaries, scavengers, and low-level merchants roamed the war-scarred lands. The devastation was so great that even the Order of the Seven Moons didn’t have anything they could obtain. That hadn’t stopped them from trying, though. No less than three monasteries had popped up beyond the empire’s borders, within the ever-growing no-man's-land.
There’s nothing wrong with spending the night there, Gen suggested. At least getting some food.
“I can catch my own food,” Dallion replied.
You’re still a Moon’s favorite. They won’t attack you.
That was true, although Dallion hadn’t had any dreams from the Green Moon lately. Maybe passing through a monastery would do him good. It had been days since his escape from the capital, and even with a flight spell, it would be days more before he got anywhere close to his destination.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stop to rest at the next one.”
As he said that, summoned the harpsisword from his realm. The last thing he wanted was to swap one cage for another.
The monastery was visible on the horizon, making it less than half an hour away. Not a single creature could be felt as Dallion approached. All the monsters of the wilderness had emptied from the area and people were yet to feel it. That was to be expected, more or less. Soon, though, Dallion’s improved senses picked up something that rang alarm bells: rotting food.
“Gleam,” he said, gripping his harpsisword. “Any illusions in the area?”
“Couldn’t you notice them now?” she asked in her usual tone. “Nothing I can sense.”
“I thought so,” Dallion muttered. His sense of unease increased.
The monastery—made entirely out of wood—was the size of a small town. It had clearly been started months, if not years, ago and must have housed hundreds of souls at least. The issue was that at present, there didn’t seem to be any sign of them.
No people, no animals, no plants, Dallion thought.
Seems like you’ll do more than rest, dear boy, Adzorg said. Just be cautious. People tend to get creative with realm use when at war.
“I know. And that’s precisely what I intend to do.”
AREA AWAKENING
The surroundings shifted, replaced by a mountain made entirely out of wood. Forts and other large structures were scattered everywhere as far as the eye could see, but even they paled in comparison to the massive statues of the moons rising hundreds of feet high. There weren’t only seven of them, though, but dozens, removing any doubt as to who the realm belonged to.
You are in the realm of MONASTERY 1152
Defeat the guardian to fulfill MONASTERY 1152’s destiny
“That’s a lot of statues,” Vihrogon appeared next to Dallion in his dryad form.
“Just being devout.”
“Didn’t seem to help them much.”
There was no clear proof that the monks of the Order had been killed. With the rotting food in the monastery, though, Dallion couldn’t imagine them simply leaving or being driven away. That raised an interesting question, though; all the other monasteries he had flown over—had they suffered a similar fate?
As far as he was aware, there was only one power capable of doing this.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“What are you thinking?” Vihrogon asked.
“I think a new Star has appeared on the scene. I’ll need to talk to the guardian, to be sure.”
“That’s a jump in logic.”
“Few would challenge the Order and out of them all, only one likes to make people disappear.” Dallion summoned all three of his blades. “Nox, you know what to do,” he added.
GUARDIAN CHALLENGE!
Nox has challenged the guardian of MONASTERY 1152 on your behalf!
The guardian has no choice but to respond to the challenge.
“If a realm can be improved, there’s a guardian,” Dallion said, more to himself than anyone else.
The creature before him was a lot different than what he expected. Given that everything was made of wood, he expected it to be a dryad. Instead, it turned out to be a green-flamed firebird. Green plumage shined brightly, composed of hundreds of brilliant green flames. Two beads stared at Dallion like precious gems. The only issue was that no white rectangle had appeared above the creature. Concentrating, Dallion tried to use his magic vision to see anything more, but to no success. Clearly, the creature had some skill that allowed it to keep its stats secret, which meant only one thing.
“You’re a copyette,” Dallion said, gripping his harpsisword tightly. The whip blade and aura sword floated less than a foot away.
The firebird didn’t react, tilting its head as it towered above Dallion.
“I don’t have time for this,” Dallion sighed. Then did a line slash.
The attack was avoidable, aimed for the creature’s head. Yet, instead of simply flying away. A series of swords emerged from the air, blocking the thread of destruction.
Deep inside, Dallion smiled to himself. “I knew you couldn’t let the statues of the Moons be harmed,” he said.
“You’re making things difficult for yourself,” the green firebird said, blobs of anger appearing within it.
“Maybe, but I’m also doing what the archbishop asked.”
That seemed to calm the creature a bit. Shrinking in size, it changed from a towering monster to something that was approximately Dallion’s size. Even so, it refused to switch its shape.
“What happened here?” Dallion lowered his harpsisword. “Cultists?”
“No. Something else.”
That statement was enough to send chills down Dallion’s spine.
“What else?”
“Whatever it was, it was fast. Swept through five monasteries like they were nothing. I didn’t notice until it was too late. None of us did.”
“So, you can talk to each other.” That was a new twist of sorts, though hardly surprising. With everything else the Order was capable of, it could well have found a way to give an echo item to a guardian or provide another method of instant communication.
For them to hear nothing, blocker items had to be involved. That didn’t exclude the Star, but in general, the cultists didn’t care about stealth. It was always possible that the new Star—if there was one—had a new view on things, although Dallion still had his doubts. The whole thing didn’t seem right.
“How many people were there here?”
“Sixty-four awakened just here,” the copyette replied. “A bit less in the other temples.”
“I’ll look into this,” Dallion said. “Are you able to give a message to the archbishop?”
“Yes.”
Good. “Tell him that I haven’t forgotten. He’ll know what I mean.”
Without further explanation, Dallion left the realm. Although he doubted he’d find any clues, he still went through the empty monastery, going through all the rooms and buildings one by one. There was no trace of the people whatsoever. As far as he could see, there weren’t any signs of violence, either. It was as if the monks and clerics had simply poofed out of existence… almost as if someone had banished them.
“Shield, is the void capable of banishing people?” Dallion asked.
That would be a nice trick. The dryad guardian laughed. Technically, yes. It requires a lot of preparation, though. It’s far easier to swallow settlements in the wilderness. Just the people—not so much. Vanishing a cleric, irony aside, would be almost impossible.
“The Moons are stronger than the void,” Dallion repeated. At least for the moment.
Putting all weapons except his harpsisword back into his realm, Dallion cast another flight spell and continued towards the scene of his battle against Vihrogon.
You’ve been quiet, Harp, he said in the item’s realm. Is there a reason?
Hopefully not, the nymph replied.
So, you suspect something.
It’s not something I want to discuss. Hopefully, it’s not something you’ll have to worry about.
And if it is?
The harpsisword’s silence didn’t fill Dallion with confidence. As long as he’d known her, she’d kept more secrets than most, and yet she always had an air of calmness surrounding her. Lately, she had become uncharacteristically nervous. One would almost say that she was afraid.
“What level must I reach to be safe?” Dallion asked.
I told you not to worry about that, Harp replied. Focus on your current issues first.
“Will a hundred be enough?”
No answer.
“A hundred and ten?”
No answer.
“A hundred and twenty?”
They won’t let you reach a hundred and twenty, the nymph said reluctantly. And even if they do, it won’t be enough.
Over a hundred and twenty. The number was impressive in itself. It was about fifty percent more than Dallion’s current level. Going that high was going to be outright impossible within the imperial capital and extremely difficult outside of it. Yet, that wasn’t what worried him the most. Coincidence or not, the number was precisely the one he’d seen the emperor have.
A thought popped into the back of Dallion’s mind—one almost verging on blasphemy. He tried to ignore it or reason it away with logic, but it kept persisting. Dallion was certain beyond any doubt that the emperor couldn’t be the star. Void and magic didn’t mix—one would always give way to the other. Every rule had its exception, though. Arthurows had desperately tried to gain a spellcraft skill gem. What if the emperor had managed the reverse, making him able to control void matter?
No, Dallion told himself.
If that had been the case, the Order would have told him directly. It had to be someone other than the emperor, though maybe still from the capital.
The closer Dallion got to the crater that had been the dwarf kingdom’s capital, the more signs of life he found. Plants and animals kept on being as nonexistent as before, but the number of people had increased—hunters, mercenaries, and looter scum, seeking to find anything that might earn them some gold.
“I used to be like that,” Dallion said, hovering in the sky.
Most people outside of the cities are, Vihrogon said. On the bright side, you had the decency to wait a few thousand years before your looting. What are you here to get exactly?
“Clay pots,” Dallion replied.
That’s a new one. Why?
“I need them for something.” He peered at the large hole that seemed to continue to the center of the world. Without the glow of the aether vortex, there was nothing magical or majestic about it—just one huge tunnel to the abyss. “I also need to find a gear piece.”