Perspective: Claudius
"He's been in there for a month!" I say, agitated. "He's holed up before, but we haven't even heard a single word from him yet!"
"Do not question him," responds Leviticus. "I know you and Rebecca haven't been around for long, but he has never failed before."
"Except when he did!" I rebuke. "He was killed like, what, 10,000 years ago?"
"Do you think even your precious goddess could withstand the assault of a trillion trillion soldiers?" Leviticus says angrily.
I walk away angrily and back towards where Rebecca is sitting in the commons hall. "What did he say?" She asks.
"He wants us to just sit and wait. How many more times are we going to go through the exact same training drills, study the same concepts, eat the same shit!" I roar.
"I think the food here is good!" Rebecca says.
"That's the problem! His alchemical machines make food so perfectly that it's too good! Every single sandwich and steak is exactly the same as the last!" I slam my fists on the table. The other crimson cultists look at me, and, embarrassed, I sit down quietly. Out of the corner of my eye I see a young boy walking over to our table.
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Perspective: Leland
I walk over to the two bizarre-looking people and take a seat at their table. The tower's commons room is adorned with fine carpet, unique craftsmanship, and a magical, ever-burning substance the Thaumaturge called Nitor lighting up the room. Claudius looks at me as I sit down. "Leland!" Says Rebecca. "What brings you to us?"
"I was just curious how you guys are doing," I say. "I know everyone's been a bit restless, but I trust the Thaumaturge."
Claudius grumbles. "Of course you do. You're his apprentice."
"I don't, uh, think you understand the situation," I say. "He gave me this binder of notes to read, but whenever I turn past page 40, I..." I lose myself for a moment before shutting the binder. "Well, you know about the warp, of course."
"Yes," replies Rebecca. "I'm worried about you. The Thaumaturge has not only his mask to help with that, but his soul can take up to 7 times more of it than the average person's can. You're just a kid. Even with the modifications he's been making to your brain, you shouldn't push yourself too hard."
"My whole life, I've been told I can't do it. That I can't cast magic or achieve my dreams. He's helping me prove them wrong. That I can do anything I want. I don't care what it costs me," I reply.
Just then, the doors to the commons room slam open. The Thaumaturge, along with his 4 praetors and Winter, are standing in the doorway.
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Perspective: Unknown
My four companions and I trudge through the snow, our target now in our sights. The massive moose I killed lies on the ground, embers still flying from its corpse. The young girl pets her malnourished pet, its snout whimpering in the cold. The general rubs his scar, his face red from the biting chill and his cape waving in the wind. The witch is unmoving, her power over winter keeping her warm. And finally, the saint comforts the young girl, her heart aching for her.
The veteran draws his sword and walks over to the moose. After a moment of concentration, he touches his sword, and the moose is skinned in the blink of an eye. I hate him, but he is impressive.
"Why did you leave Patria? I was under the impression you deeply cared about your people," I ask.
"I was," replies the general. "But of course, due to my actions a year ago, my authority was thrown into question, and a coup was held. I'm no longer connected to any of its citizens, but those that have sworn loyalty to me are still bound. Of course, I wouldn't force them to do anything against their will, and none wanted to come with us, so here we are. What about you? I thought you were fighting in the Oasis States to liberate it from the Mad King and Queen. Why did you leave?"
"The Queen finally snapped and killed the King during the battle. She was executed. The states are free," I say. He nods. I look at him, and I think I see a tear roll down his cheek, but it freezes.
As we walk back to our cabin, I hear a noise inside. The general and I both draw our swords and signal for the saint and the child to stay back. I kick open the door and Barbatus runs in, pointing his sword at light speed at the young man sitting in a chair in the corner. "Who are you?" He asks. "Come to kill us?"
The young man holds his hands in the air. "No, no! You misunderstand the situation! I'm here to help you!" He tilts his head and looks beyond the general. "You guys. There are five of you?"
"Why are you here?" I ask.
"I've traveled the land a bit, and I've heard tales of a great battle in a region called the Bleak Reach. Something about a mad god and a dragon?" Explains the man. The general narrows his eyes. "I can tell by your reaction that I'm right. What if I were to tell you that I knew what really happened? That I knew who was truly responsible?"
"What are you talking about?" Asks the general. "The dragon and his forces fought back a god-king, breached the castle's walls, and the mad god cast a spell that completely destroyed the palace."
"Not entirely true," the man replies. "Did the palace disappear in a flash of purple light?" We remain silent. Barbatus slowly lowers his weapon. "I thought so. The mad god was also a victim of them."
"Who?" I ask.
"The armored man and the automaton. They took the dragon and the mad god and brought him into another reality."
"Another... reality? Like beyond the Uncreated Night?" Asks the general.
"I've heard about that from the residents of this reality, and no. Something beyond your comprehension. My own, too. But not beyond their master's."
"An armored man and an automaton? I think I passed them when I was carrying you two to safety," I say. The child and saint look at me, now inside the cabin.
The man leans forwards. "Then you did see them. You are lucky to be alive." The man snaps his fingers, and a dark circle appears on the cabin's wall. Through it steps a man with a halberd and a small fox. "My name is Paul. Welcome to the fight."
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Perspective: The Thaumaturge
I look around the commons room, all of the crimson cultists looking up from their meals and conversations and towards me. I instinctively make a motion to smile, but forget I have no mouth.
"The work is complete," I say. A set of footsteps behind me confirms my words. Into the room steps a naked humanoid with stitches across its joints and no visible external organs. Its ribcage penetrates through its skin, and its heartbeat is almost visible. Its face remains emotionless as it stumbles into the commons room. "The Rebis is born."