It took him all of twenty seconds to drain the forty collars, feeling deeply refreshed after the influx of mana. Though ten of the collars proved to be magicless- mere decorations that contained no ability to coerce a slave or execute them. A deception that confused Liam. Once upon a time, such a deception would be a capital offense, even now it was worthy of a public flogging. Slaves were a regulated commodity. Fake collars would be seen like using lycoris rope to lock up your bike, except the bike could get out and attack people.
Even as a cost cutting measure, the risk to a merchant wasn’t worth the potential savings. What could possibly motivate a merchant if it wasn’t their profit or their own safety? Furthermore the manaless collars all bore the same crest, as if a particular merchant was skimping on the collars. Most concerning of all, the werewolf’s collar was one such, making Liam raise his own eyebrow at the possible double agent. Werewolves weren’t just rare, they were legendarily violent. Even if he ‘freed’ the lycan, he might have left the collar intact for several months.
If the lycan wasn’t here out of coercion, why was he mixed into the slaves at all? Could he be a watchdog left behind by his true master? He made no hostile move, so Liam ignored him, going to the second bearer of a unique and highly functional collar. Though it bore the same mark as the traitorous merchant. Liam raised an eyebrow, why skimp on all collars then also use the most expensive one in the same batch of slaves?
“Leave this place and do not return.” Growled the Lycan, flexing his claws towards Liam.
The Lightning Lord looked up at the werewolf, frowning before speaking. “I see now that I was a fool to think you are of the same lineage as the King’s Blade.” Liam shook his head, “Taloc must have stolen your bravery and given it to your siblings. Why are you here wolf? Your collar never held you back, and you have more than enough might to kick open a locked door. Yet, the guards left you here, with an unlocked prison, and they have no fear? Bah. You’re a traitor to Taloc’s memory. So listen carefully while you still have ears. I swore on the name of Therun Perun Taloc that his eclipsiarchs would be freed, oppose that end and you’ll leave me no choice. Who is your master, and does he seek the same?” Asked Liam, holding his ground even when the lycan’s claws pressed into his cheek, drawing blood that dripped down his face.
Hungry eyes watched Liam, with him fully knowing that the felinid slaves considered humans ‘different enough’ to eat without remorse. Hell, some of them were probably excited to get a nibble of elf, and it was within their ability to kill and eat him. Without their collars nothing was stopping them…
“I recognize no master.” Said the Lycan, grinning as if he had come up with something brilliant.
“You’re as intelligent as trying to banter with a brick wall.” Said Liam, knocking aside the lycan’s claws with the wave of his hand.
He spun forty five degrees and marched towards the last magical signature in the pen.
“For those who care, collars use a mixture of dark affinity and light affinity to bind slaves. I hope this proves my mastery of shadows, because I'm in no mood to fight on this night.” Said Liam, locking his gaze onto a girl’s pupils as he pulled the mana out of her golden collar. The lock popped free, and she blinked. Her clawed fingers trying to press the collar together, to relock it around her neck. Gold bands fell into her hands, opening and shutting under her fingers but never staying locked.
Pale skin adorned her neck, as if she’d never been free of a collar. A fact that was proven by her confused eyes. Pupils dilated, understanding she was freed, but lacking any concept of freedom. She glanced at Liam. An accident brought on by him peering up at her through the collar’s empty center.
“Oh, uhm, it won’t close anymore. I can’t get it back on… Master will punish everyone if I don’t–” She muttered, her ears angled forward, directing all attention towards the problem precipitating in her paws.
Without her collar to contain her magic, it was practically oozing out of her fluffy ears. Water affinity, with a healthy touch of healing mixed in. Almost identical to Nyota’s native affinities. This was an eclipsiarch. A descendant of Taloc’s ancient generals, she would grow to maturity and then endure for centuries, maybe longer, though that was predicated on the slave masters allowing her to live. How she had come to be in the Kheresh desert was a mystery Liam did not wish to know. Blackwood Castle was far to the north, on the other side of his own destination of Greenwood. All the way down through the capital of Talocandel and across the southern quarter of the continent to Kheresh.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
‘Quetz, can you ride a lightning bolt onto my shoulder? WITHOUT hurting me? Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you put Baron Green in the hospital last time!’
‘That’s not my fault. You were an old fart back then! Very flammable!’ Said an indignant Quetz, already aiming for Liam’s head.
Light erupted from the stars as Quetzalcoatl engulfed himself in lightning. Electrical mana surged as the snake dove, impacting on Liam’s shoulder like a gently tossed flashbang. There was no noise, but the light dazzled the slaves and alerted distant guards of a lightning strike. Meanwhile, Liam had the sense to cover his eyes with orbs of darkness, protecting his nightvision.
“Hmm, good job Quetzalcoatl. Although it seems like you’ve dazzled our charges.” Said Liam.
He advanced on the teen eclipsiarch, who had fled from the light and was now cowering against the adobe wall, hands over her eyes. Body trembling in abject terror. The sight of her cowardice reminded Liam of how humanity treated Taloc’s chosen race; and it sickened him.
Whistles echoed through the night as guards ran towards the light.
Will using the guards as lightning nimrods make this girl less scared of me…? No… Ah crap… They’ve probably done to her what they did to Nyota. Getting her to shake off her trauma took months. Well, I’m a kid now… I guess time is the only thing I have a full hand of. But we’ll have to start with that stupid werewolf.
Liam patted the eclipsiarch’s head, “Sorry for scaring you.” He whispered, turning to the werewolf.
“Lycanthrope, I see now your purpose is to protect this one. Yet you claim those ducal guards were sinless, look how your charge flees from dancing lights! Are you so incompetent that a candle terrorizes her? Can you see how little faith she has in her so called protector? Only a master who had no faith in their guardians would shirk from a shooting star. This is your fault! I name you a coward who speaks of honour to avoid action.” Said Liam, activating [abbreviated cast] for his shadowshield.
Twas a wise move, since a half second later, claws raked his chest, tearing into the shield of dark mana. The impact would have cleft steel breastplates, or punched his toddler heart out the back of his spine, but the razor claws failed to penetrate his shield. Just as Liam’s lil feet failed to stay rooted.
He flew. Propelled by furry fury. Crash landing into a pile of concussed felinids.
Yowling, screeching cats leapt, rolled, and flopped away from him. A cat-cophony of ears and tails, and somewhere in the mix was an angry werewolf.
“You’re a coward wolf!” Shouted Liam, aiming his infantile digit at the werewolf’s chest.
Whatever system governed this world set the level limit for each skill at level ten, but Taloc aboard his silver Tartarus, had granted Liam the first ten levels of his lightning skill for free, or via some sort of stack-overflow error, allowing him to reach level 20. And more importantly, allowing him to carry those levels into a third life. Levels that combined to grant him control and freedom to work lightning without incantations or details such as channeling. A sort of brute force method to instant casting.
Liam imagined a taser, and mentally squeezed the trigger until it ‘broke’. Two bolts of lightning arced from Liam’s fingers, one from the pinky, and one from the index, hitting the lycan dead center of his chest as well as the bladder region.
Sudden electrical impulses stimulated muscle fibers, forcing them to contract forcefully across his body. His back arched, the muscles overcoming his abdominals, while his legs kicked straight, bouncing him into the air a good four feet and backwards, toppling over from the shock. He lay in the dust, bladder emptying itself as he gasped for air.
“Good, you’re still alive. I would hate to waste lightning on a man-curr like you.” Said Liam, rising to his feet.
This point needed to be made, and strongly made or he would have to kill the dumbass werewolf. The werewolf had failed, and needed to be relieved of his duties. In truth, Liam pitied the werewolves –not just the one in front of him– but their entire race. Somehow, in the age of the Gods, werewolves like this tasered puppy had served as Taloc’s champions. His generals of combat, standing against Hydras, hellhounds, and her human servants. Yet now they were wholly enslaved, and rare enough that King Aldric the backstabber had kept one as his personal champion.
How far can I push this one before he breaks? Will his warrior’s spirit allow him to stop fighting before death? Crap, if he cowers too easily… It might be better to kill him now rather than try to maintain a cowardly guard. That would get me stabbed in the back…
“So, you’ve seen my lightning Mr. dog. I’ve been extraordinarily patient with a neutered pup like you. Where is your courage? Meek insults from a toddler have provoked you! Can you imagine Taloc’s shame for ever having raised your kind? Do you think your ancestors fought and died so you could disappoint him?”
The werewolf curled into the fetal position, broken by words he never should’ve heard.
Killing you will be a mercy. At least then future generations will remember you as the first great conquest of Tufan Biliam Alhusam.