Chapter 10 - The Knowledge of a lifetime

When Karzek came to himself again, he found himself in a very familiar hall. He was bound to the same throne he had once used to look down upon his underlings. Slowly, he regained his bearings only to find out that he was entirely incapable of movement. A burning pain came from almost every joint and tendon he possessed. Small blades salvaged from fragments impaled him throughout his body. The regeneration of his own body had healed his flesh around the fragments, but it was too weak to destroy the pieces itself. Thus, his own body had become his prison.

In a panic, he tried to gather some scraps of Aer within him that should have accumulated over time, but a sudden exhaustion overwhelmed him. Bordering between consciousness and unconsciousness, he noticed the drops of blood dripping from his fingers. Consistently, at a set rhythm, it dropped out of his body. The man who had condemned him to this fate and brought his downfall stood silently next to him. With a needle in his hand and at a set interval, he'd prick him at the same spot, reopening the small wound from which the blood flowed out. Helplessly he watched the man performing several tests with his body. What tools could pierce what? Which place was too soft or too hard? Karzek watched on ashamed and filled with fury, but this was no time to erupt in a rage. And even if he wanted to, his body would be far too weak to do so anyway.

But then, he came to a sudden realization. His body was already on the verge of death. Only the tiny amount of Aer that was passively accumulating within him was able to keep him alive. All of his Aer was being used to repair his body, forced to recreate the loss of blood. That's when he realized the godlike skills needed to keep him exhausted, on the verge of death and yet alive.

His supply of Aer would never be enough to allow him to regain the strength needed to shatter this prison. Yet, it would never be too little to allow him to pass onto death. With a dread that eclipsed even the torment he'd felt before, his mind fell into chaos.

What skill did this take? How well did you have to understand a human body to be able to do this? No matter a doctor, it would take a god to be able to control life to this extent! There wasn't much time to come to terms with his new situation. With his body imprisoned, he was at the mercy of the man who had become aware of his awakening. No words were spoken. The actions that followed conveyed Aien's intent far more clearly than any words ever could.

Because what followed was the prelude of hell.

A duet of agonizing madness and laughter intertwined with itself and filled the entire hall. There was no reason behind his actions. No meaning. It was torture solely for the sake of torturing. One laughed out in enjoyment while indulging in his acts. One cried out in anguish for the treatment he was receiving. Both bordering on their own sanity, stepping infinitely close to insanity.

Both unable to believe what had become of them.

Time lost its meaning in the face of such torment. Whether days or years had passed didn't matter; Karzek was on the verge of losing his mind. Whenever Aien steps closed in on him, to continue the torture, he didn't see the face of a man. In his eyes, this being had become something his darkest nightmares wouldn't ever be able to create. Even within the Abyssal Prison or past the Seven Gates of Hell, you wouldn't be able to find such an existence.

M o n s t e r

There weren't any questions. That would have given Karzek something to hold on to. But not once had the monster probed him for information. It'd never talked. Only tortured. Revealing parts of his bodies, he didn't believe existed before. Even with the use of simple instruments, the monster was able to create untold amounts of suffering in ways he didn't dare imagine possible.

What did it take for a being to gain this kind of knowledge?

More time passed, yet Karzek could never fully immerse himself in his lunacy and escape this brutal reality. The monster knew too well about that. About the last defense of the human mind – Insanity. How a mind would escape reality and abandon its physical body to find salvation. The monster knew when to stop. When it would go too far. How to make him relax even if he didn't want to. How to make him return to a reality he, oh so, dreaded.

How could it understand a human so well, when it couldn't possibly be one?

He remembered what the monster had once told him a long time ago. A distant past, he'd almost forgotten. “This was only the beginning” It had said. It did not lie.

He remembered his days as a slave. How he had been tortured during those days. How enjoyable those days were compared to the present.

He remembered when he had escaped. How he had slaughtered his way out. How his mind was filled with revenge.

He remembered when he had joined the academy. How he had triumphed over his peers at the peak of his life. How he had built his own empire.

But the monster didn't let him continue to do so. It didn't let him escape into his dreamful paradise. Continuously. Endlessly. It made him return to the vicious reality his life had become.

Until. One. Day. Finally.

“How about you answer some of my questions?”

At long last, the monster had spoken its first words, which became his sound of salvation. As if the monster had spoken a divine decree, he would surely obey any and all demands so it could finally get its mercy.

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It had taken Aien quite some effort to find the sweet spot, but he had plenty of time with Karzek still suffering from the poison. Eventually, he'd grown familiar with a magus' body and how Karzek's recovery had worked. Day after day he'd made the man endure torture until Aien was confident that he'd get the answers he needed.

The might of a magus had left a deep impression on him. He'd finally gained his freedom for the first time but who knew how long that would last? If he didn't attain sufficient strength, he'd never be in control of his own life and fate. Thus, he'd pay any price to achieve it. In his eyes, strength was synonymous to becoming a magus. That meant obtaining the necessary knowledge to overcome his own shackles.

“Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord. Anything, my lord.” Karzek spat out hastily, afraid that he'd otherwise lose this chance.

Aien frowned, wondering if he'd gone too far, but considering the man was able to talk, it shouldn't be much of a problem. Thus, he began unveiling the curtain that was this new world.

“What is a magus? Tell me everything you know.” The first and most crucial question on Aien's mind. The image of a weakly spellcaster that hid behind the frontline, as it was told in stories, had been quickly replaced by the man before him.

“A Magecraft User, my lord.”

Seeing the impatient look on Aien's face, Karzek hurriedly continued with far more details, rather explaining too much than not enough.

“A human magus is someone who controls the five elements that were bestowed upon us by The Benevolent, my lord.”

“Enough with the 'lord.'” Aien gazed threateningly, causing Karzek to immediately shut his mouth.

Aien thought about what he knew about the five elements. Fire, Water, Wind, Lightning, and Earth. They were only one of many parts that made up the foundation of this world. If he remembered correctly, then the Dwarves were in control of space while the Eledyn were in control of light, and its absence darkness. Interestingly enough, one stood at the peak of the races while the other was at the very bottom, barely surviving. The Dwarves were utterly incapable of Magecraft or any other form of Magic. They were able to craft some handy tools that ensured their survival, but that was about it.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Aien put those thoughts aside and gestured Karzek to continue.

“Human Magi are most often separated into two fields. Inner Focus and Outer Focus. This lowly one dares to call himself a magus at the second Step in the Inner Focus: Fire. The difference between the Foci lies in the art of crafting. Inner Focus Magi strive to craft their bodies into a weapon, an artifact, or whatever they desire. This lowly one's body, for example, is forged and tempered through the Fire Element. This lowly one is also able to control the temperature within other living beings because he's able to control his own temperature. This is also part of the Inner Focus and often makes them superior in single combat. An Outer Focus magus, however, is far more valuable in actual warfare. They strive to craft external weapons and artifacts usually with far more power but at the cost of a weaker body. They are also more similar to spellcasters than Inner Focus Magi.

There are some talented that strive to become a paragon within one field, wielding every element. More likely, however, are those that strive to become a master at one element within one or both fields. Then there is the title of Archmage, which is only reserved for those who can attain mastery of all elements within both fields. Throughout history, there have only been very few in existence, and in our current world, there is no one who is allowed to call himself an Archmage.

In its essence, a magus is a crafter of Mana. That's the only thing we humans are allowed to do.”

Aien digested the new information and combined it with his own previous knowledge he'd gained from Mother Catherine, before asking his next question.

“Then, what is the difference between Magecraft and Magic?”

“Some races have the privilege to use Mana with the use of their natural bodies alone, shaping it in all possible ways. There is no need for crafting external help or carefully crafting the body so it can endure more Mana. What my lord needs to know is that Mana in its raw form is very destructive when concentrated. It is freely abundant within our world and found everywhere. But to use it for Magic, every species has to compress it, revealing its true destructive and wild nature. Thus, it needs to be split into its subparts. While humans have to carefully control the weakest and tamest form of Mana – Aer – other races can use the more powerful subparts. The Rykul don't need to prepare their bodies in any way, unlike us humans who had to create an entire discipline of Magic for that sole purpose. Thus we are considered one of the minor races... If my lord wishes to attain more detailed knowledge, this lowly one advises him to study at the academy.”

“What was that shockwave you used to kill the bandits?”

“An essence crystal crafted meticulously with the utmost care. It is filled with one's own essence, unique in its existence. Every essence crystal takes a different shape, depending on the magus and can be used for different things. It's the most valuable and most guarded artifact in a magus' possession. However, it can only be used by the magus who created it. The Rank of a magus is equivalent to the steps accomplished towards crafting your personal Prime Construct.”

Aien raised an eyebrow indicating Karzek to explain further.

“There are seven steps to create your Prime Construct, after which you are qualified to claim yourself as a Master in your choice of studies. Each Prime Construct is built upon the accumulation of the artifacts you create after reaching each Step as a magus. The higher the Rank of the magus, the closer he is to completing his Prime Construct. Thus Magi are divided between the seven steps which represent their might and status.”

Aien asked for some more details, which could be useful in the far future. But for now he'd gathered all the information he needed in due time, so he asked his last question.

“How far away are we from Telaris?”

“If my lord travels towards the east on foot, he should arrive within three months.”

Silence filled the hall. There was a lot on Aien's mind. He had a lot of information to process properly, but a plan had already begun forming itself in his mind. After arranging his thoughts, he gave Karzek one last penetrating look. As a response, the former tyrant shivered uncontrollably and tears he'd thought he could no longer shed began flowing down his blood-stained cheeks.

“I've told my lord everything I know! I beg you, please! Please... stop... Please... have mercy...”

Aien got everything that he needed from the man. There was no point in asking him any more questions or keeping him around.

Thus, he showed him mercy and granted him a quick descent into eternal slumber.

He stepped out of the hall into the fresh air. It'd been weeks since he could relax and look at the clouded sky like this. It was around noon, but no sunrays could pierce through the roof of clouds that announced the beginning of a storm. The sound of thunder drummed within his ears, and drops of rain fell down to the ground. His first steps of freedom were accompanied by the distant flash of lightning as he walked eastwards.

Time to return 'home.'

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Telaris was the village closest to the orphanage Michael had grown up in. There was nothing worth mentioning about it. It wasn't particularly big with its populace of less than a hundred people, but they got by just fine. Trade was thriving in the villages close to the larger cities and it was no exception for this one. When Aien had arrived here after a month of travel, he realized that nothing much had changed on the surface.

Switching between carriages from traveling merchants it didn't take him too long to arrive back at the place he had once considered home. Back then, he had rarely been to the village at all, and the most vivid memory he had was when he passed through here on the carriage that took him to the mine.

Thus, he didn't spend much time looking around. However, he couldn't avoid the attention he attracted. Aien wore a loose dark robe with a hood to cover his head if ever necessary. Beneath it, he was still wearing some parts of the dark-leather armor he used as a bandit. As useful as they were during the night, he attracted several gazes from the villagers who would spot suspicious outsiders immediately.

Aien didn't bother much about them and continued on, leaving the village behind. He walked uphill until a familiar church revealed itself in front of him. Without stepping further, he starred at the building as scenes of the past flew by. He thought about the warmth he'd found here that was deprived of his past life. He thought about the cheerful girl that had gotten on his nerves more often than not. He thought about the mother he never had.

“...M...Michael?”

A far too familiar voice that was filled with kindness came from behind him. The voice alone sent more shivers down his body than any terror ever could. Slowly, while trying to hide his unease, he turned around to look at the person who had called out to him.

“Michael! It's really you!”

Mother Catherine exclaimed in as much disbelief as happiness. The basket filled with dried rations dropped to the ground as she pulled him into a warm and loving embrace. He wanted to indulge in it and let himself reminisce about the past. This feeling of happiness was something he had always wanted for himself. But that wasn't something he was allowed to do anymore.

Hesitation crept onto his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. With a swift motion, he pushed Mother Catherine away from him and stared at her shocked face. Years had passed, but nothing had changed about her appearance. The kind, loving smile of an elderly was still there hidden within her astonished expression. Truly nothing had changed about her. But he couldn't say the same about himself.

“I have come today just for one thing." Aien's emotionless voice left his mouth, without a trace of compassion at their reunion.

“Answer me this, Catherine. Why did you let me live!?” This apathy was soon replaced by anger that welled up from deep within him, trying to hide the sadness he wouldn't show to anyone else but the person in front of him. Why had she not abandoned him when he was still a child? As a defective human being his fate should have been clear. Instead, he got this. His hopes and dreams built up again and rekindling his beliefs in his ideals. Only to have all of it shatter again. And again. And again.

What was the point of all of this? Nothing. Therefore, he shouldn't have been reborn, to begin with. To be reborn, only to sin.

Mother Catherine looked with shock at the man she had to reluctantly let go all those years ago. She didn't answer immediately and looked deeply into Michael's eyes, waiting for him to vent his pent up frustration.

“I have killed! Dozens! Hundreds! Thousands of innocent people died through my actions! And what was it all for!? Just so I could live!! But if I hadn't thrown away everything, I would be dead. AGAIN!” Aien let out everything that he had held back so desperately. The few parts his hatred had yet to consume.

Mother Catherine regained her calmness and looked at the lost lamb before her. Instead of saying something, she held him in her embrace again, despite his resistance. For minutes, neither of them spoke, and silence filled the lonely hill in front of the church.

“I'm sorry, Michael.” She eventually said. “You must have gone through a lot... I don't know exactly what happened but be sure to know this. No matter what I'm glad you came back safe.”

Mother Catherine's reassuring words fell onto his ears like a lullaby, but it also brought him back to reality. He released himself from her embrace and stared at her once more, waiting for her to answer his question.

“Everyone deserves to live.” She said.

Wrong, Catherine. This was a life you should not have saved.

Aien brought himself under control again and resumed his indifferent appearance. This was not what he wanted to hear. Then, as if nothing had transpired, he gave Mother Catherine one last gaze and asked.

“So, no matter what, you will never regret having saved my life?” He asked, his voice as emotionless as it had been at first.

“Of course not, my dear child! How could you ask me that?” Mother Catherine answered dissatisfied, affronted by his thoughts alone.

“Is that so?” Aien responded calmly for the last time and turned around to leave. There was no going back for him. He had chosen his path and no matter what he would travel it. At any cost.

His lonely back walked down the hill, no longer looking at the past.

“Wait, Michael!” Mother Catherine shouted and hurried after. She pulled on his cloak but was unable to force him to turn around.

“Take this.”

She said and took off the necklace she had always worn. A diagonal sword surrounded by a circle. The symbol of Ryeka, the God of Judgement.

Since Aien neither turned around nor made any attempts to receive it, she simply put it into one of his pockets.

“Remember, Michael. No matter what, I will always be there for you. If nothing else, then this is a truth that will never change.”

With these last words, Aien departed from the church, on his way to gain the strength he sought.

End of Arc 0 – The Beginning