Pillars of Character
Prologue
The Origin Festival. A celebration for many residents who live in the Land of Loom. It was ongoing throughout the major cities and towns nearby. The people gathered together each year to celebrate the gift they had been given by their beloved deity. In a small village named Toll, located in the far east section of the Wind Continent. A young alph boy of the age of six was walking by his lonesome in a busy street full of merchants and stalls. Streamers were hung above, connecting from rooftop to rooftop as green-colored confetti rained down gently after being fired off by both children and parents. The young alph boy had spiky white hair, purple devilish eyes, and pointy long ears. He was born a Half-Fey and was the adopted son of a farmer, and usually spent most of his time learning from his parents out in the fields. However, today he wished to enjoy himself. It wasn’t long before the sounds of music came from a nearby man. The man was a Choso. A bird-like species, born from harpies mating with the humanoid race known as the Arcanti, which was the majority of those who lived in the wind continent. The Choso, instead of having normal limbs, had wings with finger joints at the end of them and skeletal legs with talons for feet. These, combined with their hollow bones, allowed them to soar across the sky freely. The bard had a blue feathered coat and wore a poncho with musical symbols and instruments woven into its design. The bard carried a lute and played a tune that captivated the alph boy. And with the music came words. A ballad of creation.
“Before, there was nothing, until out with his hand, came sea, ground, and sky, yet there wasn't a man.”
“Dyneema created, all for his kin, a world to be shaped, and gave life, so they did.”
“Four children were given a piece of the mold, to bend and create, the Dreidel of old.”
“Shin the eldest son, gave magic to all, he blessed us with spells, as mana would fall.”
“He gave those he cherished, once they could crawl, first wind, then the rest, the spells hard to count, twenty-four total when ten should surmount.”
“With Pheiress, the second, alchemical dreams, a gold tax to mix, then potions redeemed.”
“Yeah, but what does that mean?” The alph boy asked. At this point he was standing right in front of the bard, listening intently.
“Heh. Nice rhyme kid, but it's off the tempo. Now, if you’d let me finish, I’ll explain.” The bard answered.
“Okay…” The boy replied.
“Now… where was I? Ah yes.” the bard began singing again.
“The third, uninspired, left his land as is. Null, the no-doer, brought nothing newer, creativity sealed in a lid.”
“The badlands were dry, without rain from the sky, not even our magic could live.”
“This land long abandoned, abandoned no more, terrible beasts roam desert floors.”
“Last but not least, the all-god of greed, created too much for his father to see.”
“He shrouded his makings in darkness and mist, where the monsters of Dreidel exist!”
“This was the tale of creation, a ballad of ancient times. Now that you’ve heard your salvation secured, adventure awaits you to find.”
“Adventure. It was those words that caused my heart to flutter with excitement. The ballad of creation… I was too young to understand what it all meant back then.”
“Tell me, boy. What is your name?” The bard asked.
“Noel sir!” The boy answered. “Noel Yelevan.”
“Noel. A fine name indeed. If you liked that song then you’d love the one about when I slayed a dragon!” The bard bragged.
“You shouldn’t lie, mister.” Noel scorned. “My parents said dragons no longer exist. Only the Dracaena, who are the descendants of dragons, are left.” This completely shocked the bard as the song of dragon fire excited all the children who heard it.
“Ahah…! I wouldn’t lie about that. Dragons do exist, and I’ve seen one in person.”
“But you didn’t slay it?” Noel questioned.
“Tch… Well no. The bard answered regretfully. “Who knew children were this smart these days?” He thought. “You’ve got me there, but it's still a good song. Care to hear it?”
“Yeah. I like music.” Noel answered.
The bard went on to sing more songs until it was time for the festival to start its annual spellcasing competition.
Long ago, the world was nothing but a blank sheet of land and water devoid of life. Each section of the land was separated into four large supercontinents. The sea had no aquatic organisms. No flowers or fauna existed on the land either. The ground itself hadn’t a single dewdrop of moisture on it. This period was known as the Dry Slate. However, this design choice was intentional. This land was a gift, from a father to his four children. The deity Dyneema formed the land together and offered it as a sandbox of wonder in which each child was given a section. With the land came the authority of creation over it. The ability to breathe life, invent concepts of reality, and create dangerous beasts best left unimagined. The four children, now known as the Quad Demiurge, played a game of ancient times to determine which section was theirs. This was how Dreidel came to be.
The eldest son of Dyneema, Shin, split his landmasses in two. These mainlands are known as the Wind and Spell continents. However, he did not stop there. Shin wished to give to those outside his reach. Therefore, he created something almost anyone could make use of. This was the origin of all magic. Shin weaved together magic into the world and all of his creations. The Mana spread like wildfire. Shin believed magic was something that was a tool to be used, not a privilege. So he gave it to all living creations, both his and his siblings.
The second eldest of Dyneema, Pheiress, also split her land in two, creating both the Gold and Glass Continents. She believed that advanced magic was too complicated for many. So, she decided to add alchemy into the world for those less capable. She granted the ability to exchange and transmute objects into elixirs, mutagens, and poisons alike, but not without compensation. Pheiress considered herself far less naive than her older brother and saw a profit from the idea, so she created a gold tax on those who used her alchemy.
Null, the third child of Dyneema, did not lay a finger on the land he was given, nor did he create anything in Dreidel. The supercontinent he was gifted remained as it was during the Dry Slate and is now referred to as the Forsaken Continent. These barren lands are a hopeless place. Not even magic itself worked there.
The fourth and youngest of Dyneema’s children, only known as the all-god, added too much to the lands he was given. He separated his land in two and flattened it, stretching it out as much as he could to make room for his creations. The all-god was greedy and full of envy. Jealous of the fact that he did not come up with the ideas his siblings created himself. He added monsters into the world and dangerous techniques known as sacred arts meant for war. Eventually, the all-god ran out of room to add anything more. The trees and plant life of the land were overgrown to the point where one could hardly tell the two apart. The creatures ripped and devoured each other before spreading to the rest of the world. When all was said and done, the all-god was ashamed of his creations, so he obscured his two landmasses in an attempt to hide them from his father. One with eternal night and the other with a veil of mist. These places are known as the Shadow and Mist Continents.
As time passed, the Four Corners of Dreidel advanced throughout history. The Wind continent now became a land full of flourishing grassy plains and vast hills and was recognized for being the location of the first spell ever weaved into the world by Shin himself. The Breeze spell. A spell that created a small gust of wind only capable of drying things or moving light-weighted objects. However, in the right hands, its only limit was the imagination of those who used it, much like the residents of the Spell continent. These people are the founders and creators of advanced magic. The Spell continent’s population used complex magic to industrialize their land far beyond those who lived in the rural countryside of the Wind continent. Creating large wizard towers in order to look down upon those who could not use advanced magic. However, in doing so, a feud between the two lands was born. A rivalry between origin and advancement.
The Gold and Glass continents, however, worked harmoniously. The Gold Continent was the home of most alchemists in the world. Filled to the brim with bustling cities and bazaars, but also beggars and thieves. Many merchants lived in this place and made a living selling their concoctions. The gold tax to use alchemy was cheaper here. A mere two gold per creation. When one was finished, the gold would vanish from their possession and be sent to the Demiurge Pheiress. The Glass continent was abundant with ingredients that were not finite. The land regrew what was taken from it each year. These ingredients were necessary to use alchemy. Pheiress made the Glass continent a land with many biomes, mountains, caves, and ravines not suitable for building towns in. The ideal place to explore for those seeking adventure. Neither the Gold nor Glass continents could function properly without the other.
Mocked as the do-nothing god, Null’s land he left behind, became the place very few wished to live. Monsters from the Shadow and Mist continents migrated there and currently roamed the badlands. They conquered the Forsaken Continent long ago. It was an easy task to maintain thanks to the inability to use magic there, giving the monsters a raw edge in strength as an advantage over normal humanoids. Now, the only reason humanoids travel there is for subjugation to make sure the monsters do not get out of control and travel to the more peaceful lands.
Finally, the all-god and his whereabouts were shrouded in mystery, and the Shadow and Mist continents remained mostly unexplored. Only the most powerful of adventurers even attempted to traverse there. This difficulty was due to a flaw in the creation of the world. The absence of healing magic. When magic was created by Shin, many were born into the world with knowledge of a single spell, if not more. To cast that spell, one had to look inside themselves. Inward, existing inside all, was a metaphysical space. Some call it a headspace, while others refer to it as a mind palace. One thing that remained consistent with all terminology was the things that are inside this place. There lay the Spell Tower, and with it, the freedom of creativity and choice. The Spell Tower was only as tall as one made it. One with the breeze spell could only use it for what it was designed to do. That was true, of course, unless one built upon the spell itself. This was made possible with the Spell Tower. All of the origin spells, like Breeze, would act as a base for the structure in one's mind, and given the time to raise the tower, one could shape the spell as they saw fit. Each layer of the tower added a new complexity to the spell, allowing the caster to reach new heights. To turn a breeze into an air-cutting slash of wind, the caster needed to build the tower toward that goal. First, the base being the breeze, then the second layer would be condensing the wind, the layer after that widening it, then after that flattening it, thinner and thinner with each layer until it could cut.
This made spellcasting difficult for many. As in order to actually cast said spell like an Air Cutter, the caster needed to mentally go through the process of each layer they had applied to their Spell Tower. This proved rather difficult when engaging in combat. Losing concentration would cause the user to expend their mana and have to start over in their casting. The wizards of the Spell continent empowered their spells even further using incantations inscribed inside their spell towers written on the walls.
Many compared casting advanced magic to absurd multitasking, except said multitasking was the equivalent of playing an instrument in one hand while reading music notes and drawing a picture with the other. All the while more challenging when your life's on the line fighting off monsters. This made advanced magic inaccessible to those who refused to dedicate years of study and practice to it. What made magic interesting to the wizards, however, was how limited it actually was. Although the freedom to build a spell was up to the caster, they could only possess one of each origin spell. There were only twenty-four in total, and without an aptitude for said spell, you could not cast it. You could build a breeze spell up to create a complex spell tower, turning it into a tornado spell, but if you wished for it to do something else, you needed to tear down that tower in your mind and start from a point where you could construct the tower in order to change it. Sometimes, that required the entire tower to fall and be built from scratch.
As a general rule, the more limited the origin spell was, the less you could build upon it. There was an exception to this rule, however. For each origin spell a caster knew, there was a separate Spell Tower inside your head space. If one were to build two of those towers next to each other and create a crossway connecting them, one could combine attributes of both spells to make something entirely new. The only spell remotely close to healing was the closure spell. It was a combination of the seal spell, which was used to lock and bind, and the growth spell, which was made to control plant life. Wizards theorized that if you could close the wound of a plant, then that was possible with other biological life. However, this spell proved ineffective. It did not restore blood loss, rejuvenate the target, or restore vitality. It didn't repair lost organs or regenerate limbs. It only closed wounds.
Pillars of Character
Chapter 1
Twelve years later, within the vast lands of the wind continent, eighteen-year-old Noel Yelevan was farming in a location called the Wind Valley. A place full of grassy fields. It’s known for its dangerous inhabitants and forests filled with magical wildlife. He was crouched down in a meadow pasture, working hard with heavy precision and meticulous effort. Noel was harvesting the infamous plant known as the Helixgrass. A dangerous yet invaluable material coveted by many alchemists across the world. The Helixgrass stood apart from the normal green blades thanks to its scarlet color and design. The Helixgrass was two strands folded together in a spiral, similar to a piece of Deoxyribonucleic Acid. (D.N.A.) There were only two methods to harvest the plant. The first was to unfurl the blades without breaking or tearing their connected innards apart. This method was challenging since doing so was similar to bending flexible glass. The second method was to use magic. Near the stem of the plant was a thin layer where the grass could be cut. However, it was too thin for sheers and far too fragile for the blade of a sickle. Still, this was the preferred method, since failing to harvest the grass correctly resulted in terrible situations as well as ruined materials. The Helixgrass was red due to the liquid that was inside it. The key ingredient for healing potions. When exposed to the open air, the liquid gave off the pungent smell of blood. For a normal individual, this was practically a death sentence. Monsters were attracted to this scent like moths to a flame. The aroma was sweet to them. Due to this dangerous material, the farmers needed protection. Patrolling the exterior of the field was a group of adventurers tasked with guarding the area from nearby enemies.
“Alright… that makes twenty-two,” Noel said proudly, gently placing the Helixgrass he had cut inside a bag after carefully wrapping its fragile exterior in multiple layers for safekeeping. It had been three months since Noel had been hired to work at this location. He was an easy pick over the other applicants due to his knowledge of the breeze spell. It was the only magic spell he knew, and he built a spell tower inside his headspace and specifically designed it to slice as thin as a paper could cut. “Soon, both Arend and I will be out of here in no time.” Noel thought while adjusting his straw hat. He knew of the dangers of working here, but it paid with a quota. Each Helixgrass he harvested granted him ten silver pieces, and every hundred equaled a single gold piece. After today, he would have a total of 147 Gold Pieces. He was on a good track to afford to attend the adventurers' academy located in the Woven City, Windthread. This had been a dream of his since he was younger. To set out and explore the world with his best friend to help those in need.
“Hey, Noel!” A farmer yelled off a short distance away. This was the expedition’s leader Trata Landgil. A tall and friendly Arcanti, around the age of seventy. The Arcanti were blessed by the Demiurge Shin and were born with magical veins that infused mana in their blood. This prevents their cells from aging causing the Arcanti to be incapable of suffering the frailty of age and allowing them to live around the ages of one-hundred and fifty years old.
“What is it?” Noel turned toward the man and inquired what he needed.
“It’s almost sundown. It’s time to pack up for the day.” Trata explained. “Go help the others finish up their work and I’ll give you a bonus.”
“Got it,” Noel replied. “Anything for the extra coin in my pocket.” The expedition team had a total of fourteen members. Six farmers, one ecologist, two alchemists, and a party of five adventurers. It was funded by the Gold Continent. Since there wasn’t a town for quite some distance, the group slept in tents outside in the wilderness.
Noel hurried over toward the other farmers, starting with a woman slightly older than he was. The girl was an Arcanti with brunette shoulder-length hair and green eyes. Her name was Pamela Hiltoggle and her hands were shaking. She was struggling to finish unfurling the Helixgrass she had been working on. It was understandable since she was doing it by hand. Noel thought it was quite cruel to have hired her to work this sort of job.
“Here… let me.” Noel offered. He bent down and looked at the stem of the plant. Noel went through the process of casting his spell. The one he built in his mind.
“First, the breeze spell, then thin the wind, crush it down to a horizontal shape, thin it again, condense it till it's as sharp as a blade, and finally extend the spell from my hand by only three inches.” Suddenly, a slash of horizontal wind materialized from Noel’s hand. It severed the Helixgrass directly at its safe-to-cut spot. He was an expert at this point. Hundreds of Helixgrass had been harvested by his magic. Once cut, the root caused the rest of the plant to relax, and unfurl on its own. Pamela grabbed ahold of the plant and proceeded to store it away properly.
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“Thank you, Noel. I’ll let Trata know you helped me.” Pamela nodded with a blush.
“Not a problem.” He answered. “We’ll talk more later.” Pamela watched as Noel left to go help the other farmers finish up their work.
“Is he flirting or is he just nice? He always helps me out first before any of the others… perhaps it's simply because I’m the only girl farmer on this expedition.” Pamela wondered. “He’ll be leaving soon. Probably the next time we visit town. Both he and Arend. Those two almost have enough to attend their schools of choice. All the while, I’m here shaking my hands in fear I’ll mess up and break one of these accursed plants.” Pamela looked down at her palms, still riddled with fear, they trembled along with the rest of her body.
It was dusk, and thanks to the aid of Noel, the farmers finished their work before nightfall. The expedition team had returned to camp for the night and Noel brought in all of the Helixgrass he harvested and turned them into Trata for payment.
“Good work today boy. Being an Alph must really have its benefits huh?” Trata asked.
“Yeah. Not always, though. It gets lonely sometimes.” Noel answered honestly. Alphs are half-fey. The children of fairies. These descendants were outcasted by their own families when they were born. This was because the Alphs did not inherit the immortality of the fairies when they were conceived. When a fairy is killed it is resurrected and given a new body by a magical flower that resides deep within the Shadow and Mist Continents. This was all speculation of course, since it was what fairies that traveled the world shared and they weren’t usually the honest type. One of the benefits of being a half-fey was the abundance of mana they were born with. Most spellcasters needed to expend their mana daily to increase their total amount of mana. It was as simple as working out a muscle. The Alphs didn’t need to do this, at least for basic low-tiered magic. The other benefit was the devilish eyes they inherited from their fey parents. These eyes allowed them to see into darkness as if it was dimly lit and track fast-moving objects with precision. However, the greatest detriment to being a half-fey was being at a loss of where you belonged in society. The fairies didn’t want them, and humanoids treated them like outcasts due to envy. This was most likely because of the inherited beauty or dashing looks all the half-fey had, or perhaps it was the fear of the unknown.
“Lonely, huh? That doesn’t sound like the words of a future adventurer.” A voice was heard from behind. Noel immediately recognized the voice. It was Arend Azriel. Noel turned around to see the dapper-looking Arend entering the tent. His hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail with his bangs hanging in the front slightly parted to show off his baby blue colored eyes. His hair color is a faded light pink, which he dyed using alchemy. Noel knew the appearance was a facade. The Arend he knew was a nerd with an unhealthy obsession with alchemy.
“Hey, Trata. How many did he get this time?” Arend asked.
“Twenty-two,” Trata answered. Arend wrapped his arm around the shoulder of Noel.
“C’mon, man. I’m going to leave you behind at this rate.” Arend nudged with a smile.
“Oh? And how close are you?” Noel inquired.
“I have 456 gold pieces after today,” Arend explained.
“What!? That means-” Noel’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“Yep. I have enough.” Arend smirked. Normally, school tuition was roughly 200 gold pieces. However, Arend wished for the best form of education. His goal was to attend Rayward’s School of Alchemy, located in Syphonight City on the Gold Continent. The tuition to attend was roughly 430 gold pieces. The place most alchemists dream of attending. You could live off of 20 gold pieces for an entire semester if you spent the money wisely. Both Noel and Arend just couldn't wait any longer and opted to work their wage while attending school.
“Wow… being an alchemist’s assistant sure pays a lot.” Noel thought. Arend had been working under the guidance of Professor Stoken. A researcher in charge of handling and processing the Helixgrass liquid. Arend was in charge of diluting the liquid to remove its most dangerous properties which attracted monsters. The method was to seal the grass inside an airtight flask filled with alchemical perfumes and water and then break it while inside. This changed the scarlet blood-red liquid into a bright glowing red. After removing the shards of grass it was now ready to be used for healing potions.
“I’m only joking though…” Arend said, his smile falling to a straight face. A serious tone sent the room quiet. “We made a promise right? No way am I going to break that.” Arend stated.
“Arend…” Noel knew better than anyone just how badly Arend wished to learn more about his craft. This is what made him a true friend.
Ten years ago. In the city of Toll. Noel and Arend were sword fighting with sticks for blades. The two were playing off to the side of the road in the center of town. Toll was a farmer's town with a small population. Thanks to Noel’s devil eyes, he was easily able to keep track of the incoming swings, which were more than slow enough for the regular eye. The two crossed blades and Noel overpowered Arend, knocking his weapon out of his hand, and disarming him.
“Ouch! Hey, you cheated!” Arend yelped in pain.
“Shoot, I’m sorry. Are you alright?” Noel noticed that Arend’s hand was bleeding. It was cut by one of the branch's twigs. Noel went to reach out for his hand when Arend pulled away.
“Don’t touch it, it hurts,” Arend complained.
“Here, I’ll go and find some help.” Noel quickly turned but bumped into an older man. The force knocked Noel backward, almost toppling him over.
Suddenly, Noel was grabbed by the older man with gray hair. He was wielding a sword the length of his entire obese body. His teeth were rotten, and he smelled of booze. The man wore black leather garbs and had an unkempt beard. Behind him was another low-life. A tall skinny man who looked like he hadn’t eaten in several days with shoulder-length hair that had fleas flying around it. On his waistside was a grimoire.
“Look what we have here? It’s an Alphie!” The man laughed. “Where’s your parent’s young one? Oh, wait… they abandoned you didn’t they?”
“My- dad… he’s.” Noel was scared. He looked around at his surroundings. The villagers of Toll were just as frightened as he was. Yet their feet wouldn’t move to help Noel. “It must be because I’m an Alph…” Noel thought, dejected.
“Oh, what’s wrong? Are you scared? I betcha you would fetch a fine price.” The man threatened.
“Don’t talk to him like that!” Arend growled at the older-looking man. “Why don’t you give back the lunch you stole from your friend over there and leave us alone!” He yelled with ferocity.
“Those are some fighting words, boy,” The older man said, ready to teach Arend a lesson.
“But I’m Anorexic” The skinny man sobbed.
“Quick… I gotta use what’s around me!” Arend thought. He looked at the stick sword that was on the ground, the one Noel knocked from his hands and took action. Arend threw dirt in the eyes of the old man and quickly went to pick it up.
“Why you little-!” The man groaned in pain, attempting to remove the dirt from his eyes.
“Arend, don’t!” Noel’s fears turned to concern for his friend, who was risking sticking his neck out for him.”
Arend took the stick and stabbed the man in the eye, poking it and scratching his retina.
“AHHHHH!” Tim the old man cried in pain causing him to let go of Noel. “PAUL DO SOMETHING!”
“Hang on, Tim! You messed up now kid.” The tall man named Paul pulled out his Grimoire and began reading the order of operations for a spell. This was common for some wizards to remember how they constructed their spell towers.
“Grand fire falls, burns, and blazes. Incinerate and erase those in thy way, Fire Bolt!” The man chanted. When assembling a spell tower, one could write words inside the walls. These words, if spoken while casting the spell, would empower it. The longer the incantation, the more devastating the spell would become.
“An incantation!?” Noel thought as Paul aimed his spell at Arend. “He’ll kill him!” The rest of the village gasped in terror at what was about to unfold.
“DIE!” Paul shouted, and from his hand came an explosive ball of fire.
Noel only thought of saving his friend as a look of pure terror fell upon Arend. Noel’s body moved on its own and he jumped between Arend and the fire bolt and closed his eyes, readying for the worst.
“…”
Unexpectedly everything went white.
“...where am I?” Noel asked himself
Time froze for Noel. He found himself inside a deep blue empty space. It was tranquil like water.
“Did I die?” Noel doubted. “No… I know this place. It’s the headspace. Where magic resides.” In the center of this room was a glowing green ball of light. Noel was hesitant but approached it carefully. With each step, ripples of water were created on the floor that seemed to go on forever. When Noel finally reached the light, he touched it with his hand. Instantaneously, knowledge flooded into his mind.
“Breeze.” A voice echoed throughout the space. Now, below the green light was a foundation of land.
“An island?” Noel was shocked. Before, he was unable to erect a spelltower. The bricks were too heavy for him to construct, but now they seemed light enough to build with.
“Wait, I can work with this!” Noel said with determination.
Time unfroze and Noel’s eyes opened, the fire bolt was still coming his way and it was easy to track. For the first time in his life, Noel was grateful for his devilish eyes.
“I can save him! I’ll give it everything I’ve got!!” Noel extended his hand outward, aiming at the center of the bolt.
“Air Slice!” Noel shouted. He had built his first spell in that space while time slowed down. Out from his palm, with every drop of mana stored inside him, Noel released his first spell. A powerful slash of wind expelled and directly hit the fire bolt’s center mass severing it in two. The arc of wind flew past the fire bolt, and directly hit Paul, leaving a heavy gash in his chest.
“ARGH!” Paul winced in pain, falling backward from the wound.
“Wind Magic!? You lucky runt. Blessed with that much Mana at a young age is cheating. Paul, hang in there!” Tim forced his eyes open, enduring the pain. He was blind in one eye thanks to Arend and now viewed the two kids as a real threat. “I’ll butcher you!” He pulled out his longsword and readied a swing that would slice both Noel and Arend in half.
The two could do nothing but scream as their legs would not move. Not out of fear, but because the blade was so abnormally long that it would be impossible to dodge. There was simply nowhere to run. Still, when Noel tried to move, his body was physically incapable. He was experiencing spell fatigue. An affliction that occurs in the body when one runs out of mana. A sharp pain ached throughout his entire body. It felt like being electrocuted. The blade swung toward the two and moments before connecting the blade was suddenly split apart with a clean cut launching it upward into the sky.
“Ascending Threefold Strike!” Appearing out of nowhere, was a caped man in a full suit of armor. His hair was a deep black and his eyes were golden like the sun. He let out a devastating attack that not only destroyed the blade Tim was using but also severed his hands clean off. Tim the old man, dropped to the ground and began to sob in unbearable pain. At this time Paul had already stood back up on his feet, ready to retaliate when an excessive stream of flowing water blasted him into a nearby wall knocking him unconscious.
“Riverflow!” The spell was launched from some distance away.
“Who are you-!” The man immediately recognized who the swordsman was. The fear of oppression silenced his whimpering. “Sw–Sword King Eryndor?” Tim the old man quivered. He was confused as to why a big shot like him was in the area.
“Tim the Trader, surrender now. You’re wanted dead or alive. You’re just lucky enough that children are here. Otherwise, your head would be rolling instead of your hands.” Eryndor threatened with his sword pointed at Tim.
“I surrender! Please don’t kill me!” He cried.
“Pathetic.” Behind Eryndor was a beautiful young woman with silky silver long hair. She had pointed ears and green devilish eyes. She wore a deep green robe with a thorny tree decor. She looked at Tim with disgust.
“She’s… like me?” This was the first Alph Noel had ever met.
Both Arend and Noel watched in awe from what just occurred. Then when all was said and done, their legs gave out beneath them, causing them to collapse on the ground.
The Alph woman approached Arend and Noel and placed her hands on their shoulders.
“Are you alright, young ones?” She asked while beginning to cast a spell. “Closure.” From her hands, a bright and heavenly lime green light caused the cuts and scrapes the two had accumulated to seal shut. Noel’s eyes sparkled with wonder. “There, that should do. Now, drink this, the both of you.” She then handed the boys a potion of healing each. The two drank it, and with it, their strength was restored. Arend’s eyes glimmered with enchantment at the miraculous power of a potion.
“We’ve got to look out for each other in these times. Regardless of what we look like.” The woman lectured. Suddenly she was interrupted by the whining of Tim.
“Please, stop the bleeding! I’ll die!” Tim begged the Alph woman.
“You’ll wait your turn!” She scorned. Her devilish eyes struck fear into his heart, even more than Eryndor.
“Yes ma’am…” He accepted his fate. Eryndor approached the boys and crouched down to get to their level.
“That was quite the display of bravery there lads.” Eryndor praised, patting Noel and Arend on the head. “The world needs more people like you two. Those who are willing to stand up against oppressors.”
“NOEL, AREND!!!” A sudden scream was heard from a distance. It was Noel’s parents, Jill and Chad. They rushed toward the boys and hugged them both with tears running down their eyes.
“I was so worried! When Pamela told us what happened, we came as soon as we could.” Jill explained. Noel and Arend looked over at Pamela who was peeking her head around the corner of an alleyway. When she was spotted she scurried off in a panic.
“Thank you, young man.” Chad shook the hand of Eryndor. “How could we ever repay you?”
“Don’t worry about it. We were actually here for something else entirely. We’re just lucky enough to have made it in time. If it wasn’t for these two brave adventurers putting up a fight, we wouldn’t have.” Eryndor explained while sheathing his blade. After looking closely, Noel noticed that Erydor had not one, but an entire arsenal's worth of swords. Noel counted at least fifteen in total. He was confused as to why someone would need that many blades and made an educated guess that it had to do with him being called the Sword King. During this time, the Alph woman cast the closure spell on the two criminals, preventing them from bleeding out.
“Wha-What’s your name?” Noel asked the Alph woman.
“I am Lady Frain, but you can just call me Frain.” She said with a wink.
“Was that your magic? The water spell?” He asked. Noel was captivated by Frain.
“It was. But, it wasn’t as cool as your Air Slice though.” Frain answered with a smile.
“Frain… it’s time to go.” Eryndor said. He had tied Tim and Paul up and began dragging them both with just one arm.
“Right.” Frain’s face suddenly became serious. “Well, one day, perhaps we'll meet again.”
“Thank you!” Both Arend and Noel appreciated them as they walked away. Two adventurers gave a smile and nod before dashing away. They left almost as fast as they appeared.
“Woah! Did you see them? They were so cool!” Arend said.
“Arend! What would your parents think of you becoming an adventurer!?” Jill scolded.
“...” Arend fell silent with a frown.
Later, Eryndor and Frain, after dropping off the criminals, headed toward their next destination.
“Hey Eryndor. You saw that right?” Frain asked.
“Yeah... I did.” He replied.
“The boy. He empowered his magic without incantation.” Frain explained. “Have you ever seen something like that before?”
“No. But enough about that right now. We have bigger things to be worried about.” Eryndor commanded. The two were now far outside of town, several miles away when a group of hooded people surrounded the two. Eight in total. There was silence before one of them burst out in frustration.
“Hey, boss! What took you so long!” The group removed their hoods and revealed themselves as the party led by Eryndor himself.
Later that night Noel and Arend were sleeping in their bunk beds, unable to rest due to the events that had occurred.
“Hey. Thanks, Noel.” Arend said with gratitude. “Those adventurers were cool and all, but you were pretty cool too. And when were you going to tell me you could use advanced low-tier magic?”
“Hey. I could only use the base of the breeze spell. I wasn’t able to build a spell tower before.” Noel explained.
“Well. Now that you can, that means you have a weapon of your own.” Arend said.
“Don’t sell yourself short man. That quick thinking of yours is always saving my butt.” Noel laughed. “Thanks for standing up for me. I mean it.”
“I guess we do make a pretty good team don’t we?” Arend said.
“Why don’t we make a promise then?” Noel said.
“What?” Arend questioned.
“I want to help others like how Eryndor and Frain helped us. But we need to be stronger. So let's save up money and go to an adventuring academy together.” Noel asked.
“I hate to break it to you, but I suck at fighting.” Arend elaborated. He then recalled the potion he drank and how useful it was. “But, I can learn. So I’ll go learn alchemy. That way, if you get hurt, I can heal you.”
“Yeah. You do suck at fighting.” Noel teased.
“Hey!” The two then laughed, before going quiet.
“It’s a promise then?” Arend asked.
“Yeah. It’s a promise. Let’s save up and work hard so we can become the greatest adventurers out there.” Noel agreed.
Back in the present…
“Tch.. well. Can’t say I won’t miss you two.” Trata said. “It’s been an absolute blessing to have you two work for me.”
“Haha. Thanks, old man.” Arend smiled.
“Hey, I’m only seventy. I have another ninety years left in me.” Trata scolded. The three laughed before Trata stopped and reached into a bag behind him.
“Here Noel. Your bonus.” Trata pulled out 80 gold pieces of his own money and handed it to Noel.
“Trata! I can’t take this. It’s too much.” Noel was completely blown away.
“Oh shut up, before I change my mind. I know you’ll do far more good with it than I will.” Trata took hold of Noel’s hand and placed the sack of coins in it. “Now, go on and get some rest. You’ve got one more day of work before you can become adventurers.”
Noel and Arend thanked Trata for everything he had done for the two of them. Then they headed outside.
“You know what this means, right!? RIGHT!?” Arend couldn’t contain his excitement.
“We’re going to become adventurers!” The two pumped their fists in unison.
“This calls for celebration!” Noel said. “Drinks are on you.”
“Cheeky little… Ah, why the heck not? Not like you could afford it anyway.” Arend agreed.
“Jerk!” Noel laughed. The two then grabbed drinks at Noel’s tent to celebrate and drank the night away, before Arend returned to his tent and the two went to bed.
“AHHHHHHH!!” The morning came sooner than expected, and with it the sound of a woman screaming. The noise shocked Noel awake. He rushed out of the tent only to almost throw up from the late-night celebration. In a panic, Noel searched quickly using his devilish eyes, only to focus on Pamela, who was in the fields, working early in the morning. Except she was sitting in a pool of blood..
“No… that’s not blood.” Noel said, panicking. There were countless broken pieces of Helixglass shards all over her, dying her clothes a scarlet color.
Noel rushed toward Pamela, before being flagged down by one of the adventuring party members. It was Vice Captain Alroy who was on horseback. He’s second in command of the Incinidare Adventurers Guild. Not a lot was known about that guild except that its members equaled thirty in total.
“Hey, Alphie! Get everyone out of the area and back towards the tents, there are monsters headed this way!” Alroy said in a panic.