Aiden studied Valdan for a moment. The knight was displeased but not angry. Most people often assumed that both were one and the same. They were not. Displeasure and anger most often hold a thin line between them. It was a thin line that separated having your head chopped off by a king’s decree and having your request turned down.

While synonymous, anger and displeasure were not the same.

“I’m waiting,” Valdan said.

Aiden realized that he didn’t want to share. When he’d given Valdan the order to protect his body from the attention of others, he hadn’t known what he’d been hoping for.

You lie to yourself, he thought. You knew what you’d been hoping for.

He’d been hoping that Valdan would find what he wanted to keep a secret. For some reason, Aiden felt that it would have made this conversation a lot easier.

“So you didn’t see it.” Aiden met Valdan’s gaze.

“I did not.” Valdan did not avoid his gaze. “I kept you from everyone, and as best from myself as I could. Why?”

Aiden ran a hand through his hair. It was unruly but the least of his problems.

He reached for his soldier’s belt and found it still attached, all three wrapped around his waist. The first pocket was empty. It was the back pocket, and it took him a moment to remember that during his fight with Gangnar he had all but considered the contents of his back pocket empty.

“I had it somewhere,” he muttered as he touched one of the pockets on his side.

Valdan gave him a pointed look, drew his attention. When he had it, his eyes moved pointedly to his hip.

Aiden looked at the bulging pocket of the soldier’s belt.

“Oh.” He reached for it but paused before opening the pocket. “What enchantment is that?”

“A disruptor, from what I was told,” Valdan said.

Aiden looked around Valdan at the sheet of paper currently glowing a very faint blue. “Told by whom?”

“The [Enchanter] I got it from.”

Disruption enchantments were a bit tricky. Or, in simpler words, they weren’t the most efficient. It was the reason Aiden preferred using the [Enchantment of Lesser Madness] to do his disruptions.

Disruption enchantments followed a pattern. With that pattern they broke down the effects of existing enchantments. But there were existing enchantments with patterns so vastly complicated that they didn’t always work.

So you had to constantly upgrade your disruption enchantments. Personally, Aiden thought they were very unreliable enchantments.

So he placed both hands on his and pushed himself to his feet. “Give me a moment.”

Valdan watched him with careful eyes, cautious. He reminded Aiden of a father watching their daughter take their first steps. Very much eager to see how far she could go in the accomplishment, yet teetering at the edge of catching even before she thought of falling.

It was interesting. Not for the first time, Aiden felt it would be in his best interest to convince someone to let Valdan work with him on all his tasks. He doubted it would be very difficult.

Then again, Valdan wasn’t just a [Knight], he was a [Knight of the Crown].

Unclipping the soldier’s belt that held the dimensional crystal, he placed the belt gently on the bed.

“Got to check on the enchantment,” he said in way of explanation as he shuffled over to the door.

Valdan watched him go.

Walking was stressful in the way that a child does not want to do their homework even when they knew the answers to the questions. Aiden could walk well but he found himself dragging his feet, lacking motivation to do much more.

When he got to the door, he looked down at the sheet of paper. His neck felt lazy and standing felt unnecessarily stressful. So he squatted. But his calves didn’t like that, so he sat down. He found himself looking up at the enchantment. Surprisingly, it was more comfortable.

“Linear lines are in place,” he muttered to himself as he studied the enchantment. “Nothing overly complicated.”

All of a sudden, he was tired of inspecting the enchantment. Aiden frowned at that.

This is important, he chided himself, then returned his attention to the enchantment.

He traced the lines of the enchantment with his eyes and his brain replicated it easily. That told him that it wasn’t a high level disruption enchantment. If it had been, he wouldn’t have recalled it so easily.

Aiden shuffled on his place on the floor so that he could look at Valdan without having to turn his neck.

“Who…” His sentence trailed off at the sight he saw. “What?”

Valdan was looking at him as if he was a lazy child. “What?”

“You’re giving me a funny look.”

“You’re sitting on the ground like a child.”

Aiden looked down at himself. “I’m tired. It’s not a big deal.”

“You also dragged your feet.”

“My legs were heavy.”

Valdan shook his head, but there was a small smile on his lips. “Is my enchantment to your satisfaction, Master Lacheart?”

The knight was teasing him. Which was funny since Valdan wasn’t one to tease people from what Aiden knew.

“Do you know what level it is?” Aiden asked.

“I was told it was at least an enchantment above level fifty,” Valdan answered. “Why?”

Aiden snorted. “I take it they didn’t know you were a knight.”

“They did not.” Valdan gave him a questioning look. “I am not one to go around announcing my title.”

Aiden had a feeling that none of those with the title of [Knight of the Crown] were.

“No matter.” He got to his feet. “It should suffice.”

He dusted his hands against his tattered pants and started shuffling back towards Valdan.

“Raise your feet,” Valdan chided. “You’re not some untrained adolescent.”

“I’m just feeling lazy. It’s not a big deal.”

Aiden raised his feet, however. He did his best to walk normally, even with his lack of motivation.

When he got to the bed, he sat down beside the soldier’s belt.

Valdan looked at him. “Are you done stalling?”

Aiden nodded. He turned to the soldier’s belt he’d discarded and pulled it to his laps. He opened the pocket he was interested in and was welcome to the deep blue of the crystal that was inside it.

The crystal sat comfortably in the palm of his hand, occupying every space. Was it this big when I got it?

Valdan’s gaze moved to the crystal, focused on it. “A mana crystal. Rare, but not very rare.”

He looked up at Aiden. “I was protecting a mana crystal?”

Aiden said nothing. He met Valdan’s gaze and waited. Silence had many uses in a conversation. In one like this, it told the other party that while they were right, there was more. And it was their job to try their best to discover what it was.

Valdan’s eyes went back to the crystal. “All mana is blue at its conception. Even human mana. But this isn’t human mana.”

Aiden nodded. It clearly wasn’t. It was obviously the wrong kind of blue, banking on black. It was clearly too dark to be black.

Valdan frowned. “I’ve gone through all the mana colors I know.”

“And?” Aiden pressed.

“I don’t know this one.” Valdan looked at him. “The only color closest to this is…” he shook his head. “I do not know. It has an odd color. I’ve seen black mana, but that belongs to people whose skills work with the shadows. And green and black is often the purview of necromancy.”

Aiden had to remind himself that while necromancy was frowned upon, it wasn’t explicitly seen as evil. “I hope you didn’t kill the necromancer.”

Valdan shook his head, a made a dismissive gesture. “He works for the crown. Besides, he’s a nice guy.” He paused. “Wait, is there necromancy in your world?”

“There’s no magic in my world, Valdan.” Aiden closed his hand around the crystal and opened it. He got no notification showing him the fluctuation of his mana.

I guess I’ve adapted to it.

Valdan nodded. “But how do you people treat death? Even here on Nastild there are many outlooks on death depending on the custom.”

Aiden placed the crystal on his lap and folded his arms. The first thought that came to mind was how the Order treated their dead. They buried them, and that was it.

They were one of the few people who buried their dead on the human side of Nastild. The others mostly burned their dead. Unless they were royalty. Most kings and queens were entombed.

“It’s a bit diverse,” Aiden answered. “Most people burn or bury them. Ages ago some Monarchs built themselves a pyramid. During my time there were people who claimed to have found a way to turn you into diamond.”

“Diamond?” Valdan gave him a confused look. “Why would someone want to be turned into jewelry. Do diamonds conduct magic the way it does here over there?”

“Valdan, again, there’s no magic in my world.” Aiden let out a nostalgic sigh. “Some organizations claimed they could turn you into a tree, too. But mostly we just buried or burned our dead.”

“Your people are odd.” Valdan looked away in thought. “Perhaps they are merely innovative with no ethical restrictions. I can see a [Necromancer] taking interesting in turning the dead into jewelry. A [Druid] would definitely be interested in the tree thing.”

Ethical restrictions, huh.

Nastild definitely had that. The Order did not. And it was the reason they were so much more advanced than most of the human kingdoms. In truth, they had ethical restrictions, but they were so lax Aiden couldn’t call them restrictions.

“We’ve digressed far enough,” Valdan said suddenly. “The crystal.”

Aiden looked down at it. “I’m actually surprised that you haven’t yet used [Detect] on it, if I’m being honest.”

“It is a property belonging to you, Aiden,” Valdan explained. “It would be rude and uncivilized of me to just use a skill to learn what it is when I could simply ask.”

Aiden held it up. “I think it would be better if you used the skill.”

Valdan gave him an odd look and Aiden nodded. Valdan sighed. When he used the skill, he did not give off an expression that informed Aiden of it. He did not squint. His eyes did not give off a soft glow or change color.

However, Valdan sat up straighter, grew more alert. Suddenly he looked back at the door and Aiden had a feeling that he had suddenly begun doubting the disruption enchantment.

Aiden was more interested in what Valdan’s interface would interpret the crystal to be.

“There are already crystalized demonic mana in the kingdom?” Valdan said in a low voice, as if someone else might hear him if he spoke normally. “We must inform the king.”

Aiden didn’t share in the Knight’s haste, for obvious reasons. While the arrival of demonic mana was a sign that Nastild was running out of time to the kings of Nastild, to him it simply meant that he was running out of time to reach the kind of strength he needed.

Not for the first time, it grated at him that the secrets on Nastild that he knew could lead him to level up would only help when he was powerful enough to use them.

“I don’t think you understand how serious this is as regards the rising darkness, Lord Lacheart,” Valdan said, clearly noticing the lack of worry on Aiden’s face. “Crystalized mana is not an easy thing to come by.”

Aiden looked down at the crystal and asked a question he knew the answer to. “Is it that rare?”

“Yes.” Valdan’s answer was immediate. “To find a natural mana crystal in nature, the ambient mana would have to be concentrated for many years, at least fifty years. Kingdoms go to war over mines bearing mana crystals.”

“And what if it was artificially made?”

Valdan frowned as if the answer to the question was something he wasn’t proud to have. “You will need at least ten living mana sources. If you drain them of their entire mana and concentrate it with the help of the necessary skills, you might be able to create a mana crystal.”

Aiden frowned. “That’s dark.”

But it wasn’t like he didn’t already know this.

“It is a dark world,” Valdan confirmed. “People aren’t always inherently good.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Aiden knew that. He’d seen enough of humans and non-humans to know that evil wasn’t just a human trait, it was a sapient trait. If it had intelligence and desire, it was as capable of good as it was of evil.

He’d once seen what Elves had done to Orc slaves. Humans had no monopoly on evil. They weren’t even close to knowing it well enough. There was cruelty on Nastild and humans were still new to it.

“What do you intend on doing with the crystal?”

Aiden was pulled from his thought and he looked at Valdan. “What?”

“I assume it is yours by right of conquest,” Valdan explained. “So it is only fair that you decide on what to do with it.”

That was a bit surprising. “I thought you would tell me to submit it to the king.”

“The king will definitely learn of this.” Valdan would have it no other way. “But what will inevitably be done with the crystal will be entirely up to you. I will advise, however, that you submit it to the king. There are people who have trained their whole lives in professions that would allow them handle this better.”

“But ultimately?”

“The decision is in your hands.” Valdan turned thoughtful. “Most people who find themselves in the rare possession of mana crystals that match their mana have been known to use it to grow their mana levels.”

Aiden was aware of this, however, a new thought bubbled within his mind. With the [Heart of Nosrath] heart and the [Crystal of Existence], maybe he could do more.

There was an instructor in the Order who had been as old as old could be even before Aiden had joined the Order. He had hair as red as blood that was a strong anomaly on Nastild. According to him, there were a few people like him who had hair that color as a side effect of absorbing the [Heart of Nosrath] and the [Crystal of Existence].

Most people did not use both resources together because the human body couldn’t handle the overload, but there was an enemy of the Order who was very much capable of making it happen.

Once upon a time, he hadn’t been an enemy of the Order, but a few things had happened to earn him that specific title. The rumors in the Order had it that the man wasn’t just an enemy of the Order, but also carried it as a system sanctioned title.

The man had fallen to an assault from the Order five years after Aiden had joined them.

Aiden looked down at the crystal. He had heard once from the instructor with blood red hair that there lived a being—he had said nothing of the person’s race—that had taken Nosrath’s heart and the [Crystal of Existence] to the [Enemy of the Order] and had left the man’s presence with hair the color of lava. The instructor had claimed that this person had taken something extra, and the [Enemy of the Order] had done something with it as well.

It hadn’t just made the benefits of Nosrath’s heart permanent, it had done more for him.

What if I can—

“Don’t think about it.”

Once more, Aiden’s attention was drawn to Valdan.

“You cannot absorb demonic mana,” Valdan said angrily. “No matter how much power you want—and I see how much you want it everyday—you cannot do it. It will kill you as surely as you are alive.”

Aiden looked down at the crystal and found his hold had tightened over it. He blinked at himself, as if clearing some metaphoric cobwebs in his head.

Had he really been thinking about it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to absorb a demonic mana crystal through natural means, but he’d suspected that it would be possible with the help of the [Enemy of the Order].

Do you want power so badly?

Aiden had no idea what the criteria for becoming the [Demon King] were, but he was almost certain that successfully absorbing an entire demonic mana crystal would shift him greatly towards meeting the criteria.

Would you become the [Demon King] you intend on saving your brother from becoming?

He knew the answer to that question. His mind so desperately wanted to say yes. But while he was a lot of things, he didn’t think a fool was one of them.

What would happen next if he became the [Demon King]? What would happen if the world found out? Their roles would be reversed. Ted would become the one who would suffer what Aiden had once suffered.

I’m not just here to stop Ted from becoming the [Demon King], I’m here to keep him safe until we get home. To keep us safe.

Becoming the [Demon King] would destroy the entire goal.

Aiden’s hold on the crystal relaxed and he looked at Valdan. “Didn’t you say that you need an affinity with the mana for it to work?”

Valdan met his gaze and held it. “I did.”

“Rising darkness, demonic mana.” Aiden shrugged. “Common sense dictates that all that applies to demons, not humans.”

Valdan gave him a skeptical look. It lasted for a moment before he dropped it.

“I can only imagine demons absorbing these things.” He carried a disgusted frown on his face. “This is far more terrible than I thought.”

Human mana, naturally, did not have a type like fire or water or things of the like. They were just mana unique to each individual as their scars and finger prints. However, some people’s mana were known to develop a sense of affinity at level hundred and beyond. Not all, though, just some. They weren’t rare enough to be considered unique, but they were rare enough to be called rare.

Hence, mana crystals were mostly just used for potions and crafting and the like. Still, some people developed affinities like fire and water and earth and pain and fear. You felt the effects in their skills from time to time, mostly when they intended it.

The aura or mana of those beyond level hundred was simply heavy and overbearing. Those who have developed affinities came with much more. Fire came with a burning sensation. Water came with a drowning sensation. Pain came with… well, pain, obviously.

But as powerful as it sounded, there were restrictions. For example, if a [Mage] developed an affinity with water, they could kiss casting a lot of other spells easily good bye. If someone that was not a magic class developed, maybe a lightning affinity, then they could be sure that all the skills they gained after that would very likely be locked to being lightning related.

In Aiden’s past life his mana hadn’t gotten any affinity because there had been no point to it or trying for it. What had happened just now had been a momentary lax in judgement. Personally, he intended to keep his mana free from affinity. Still…

Dimensional mana affinity might be a path to going home.

He breathed in deeply. “This is worrying.”

Valdan nodded. “It is.”

“What do you say we hand it over to the church?”

Aiden had never seen Valdan shake his head so quickly. “The church has no interest in the rest of the world. They are so clouded by their religious belief that they would watch the world burn if saving it went against even a drop of their teachings. Giving it to them would be a morbidly horrible idea.”

Aiden’s expression scrunched up in surprise. That had been quite the adamant tone in Valdan’s voice.

It wasn’t like he was going to give it to the church, though. He’d just been spit balling there. But it was good to see where Valdan stood with the church. He wondered if the knight had a similar stance on the gods of Nastild.

That piece of information was unnecessary. For now, however, he focused his attention on more reasonable power to try and attain. The [Heart of Nosrath] and the [Crystal of Existence].

He wasn’t completely sure of what the benefits would be, specifically, but one thing he was certain of was that they would make him powerful.

[Heart of Nosrath] was gotten from a beast that spawned in the harsh south of Nastild. It was in all ramifications of the word, a raid monster. When it was defeated, a [Crafter] could get the heart out easily or you could do it by hand if you were not a [Crafter]. The latter was more difficult. The creature, the Nosrath, respawned once every two years by means that still remained one of the mysteries of Nastild.

When the [Heart of Nosrath] was consumed, the person that consumed it gained two benefits. The first was the gift of resurrection. If killed, they would come back to life in no more than twenty-four hours. This benefit lasted for the span of two years. No body knew for a fact, but people speculated that the reason it lasted for two years was because of the Nosrath’s respawn.

However, if the user wasn’t killed in two years, then they lost the benefit of resurrection and had their life stats boosted by five points for the duration of five years. They also permanently gained the [Vitality] stat which was said to grant significantly increased healing.

Most people didn’t understand the boon that came with the [Vitality] stat. The stronger you got, growing in levels, the healthier you became. But it was fixed, determined by your body naturally.

Gaining the [Vitality] stat meant the ability to grow it intentionally. If a person had the stat and just decided to funnel all the stat points they got into it, they would become very difficult to kill. At least more so than their peers.

As for the [Crystal of Existence], it had two functions. It served as something of a reboot item. It possessed one of two functions. As a single use item, it allowed the user reallocate all their already allocated stat points. But if the user didn’t want to use it for that, then they could wield it for two years, granting them the [Undo] skill, that reset all status effects with a twenty-four hour cool down period.

Kings and nobles stalked the entrance to these places every two years just to get their hands on these items. Mercenaries, too, for the rich paid outrageous sums for the chance to get their hands on such items. Small wars have been fought over access to these things in Nastild’s history.

It might seem insignificant, but in a world were violence was power, any boon was important. Necessary. Greater men than Aiden always had their eyes on them.

But Aiden was confident in claiming the next [Heart of Nosrath] and [Crystal of Existence] to spawn. Why? Because he knew the exact date they would spawn.

In a few months, the current wielder of the [Heart of Nosrath], the king of Mba-chukwu to the south, would be panicking at the loss of the heart that he had claimed barely eight months ago. And so would the queen of Nel Quan, current wielder of the [Crystal of Existence].

Both items would respawn randomly for the next eleven years due to the effects of the presence of the rising darkness most correctly known as the increase in demonic mana on Nastild. And Aiden was currently the only one alive who knew this.

Personally, Aiden didn’t think he really needed the [Crystal of Existence]. Still, there might be those in his eventual team who would. And he had every intention of making them as strong as possible.

Aiden turned and replaced the mana crystal in the pocket of his soldier’s belt. Valdan watched him as he did it, saying nothing.

Once he was done, he turned to Valdan.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he said. “What did I miss?”

…

It was well past midnight when Onyedi dismissed the council of chiefs. They had been, as always, grumblers and weaklings. Actually, weakling was probably too harsh a word to describe them. They were just too cautious.

Once upon a time Onyedi would have stood on the word, mistaken caution of all kinds for weakness. But he was old enough now. He had seen enough to know that caution was often a virtue to stand by.

He stood at one end of the large round table in front of him too restless to sit. The table large enough for fifteen grown men to stand around it comfortably. It was made from an old Mamoroth’s hip bone, carved and fashioned by the finest crafters, all of which had born the class of [Crafter] years ago. It had been in the time of his grandfather.

The table was a deep brown, like charred wood. Yet sleek and glossy. It gleamed when exposed to light. But there was no gleam from it in this moment because its beauty was not on display even from the moonlight that streamed in from the window behind Onyedi. The wooly white fur of the same Mamaroth that owned the bone from which the table was crafted currently covered it.

Onyedi sighed, piercing brown eyes staring at the surface of the table. He had both hands planted firmly on it, looking down at the map in front of him.

Plans months in the making had gone terribly awry before they had even begun to be put into motion.

Four months. He scowled at the map. Four fucking months.

He gritted his teeth so hard he could almost feel them hurting. If things hadn’t begun to go terribly wrong a month ago, his plan would’ve gone into motion four months from now.

Onyedi let out a calming breath that did nothing to calm him down. His year-old dream had been cracked, and now it stood on the verge of shattering. But he continued to hold it together with nothing but sheer will.

His chiefs and elders that had been on his side not too long ago were now exercising caution for good reasons. But Onyedi was a stubborn man. His father had always seen it. So did his wives. His stubbornness had to run in his veins because even his third son was displaying similar levels of stubbornness at the young age of twenty.

“It can’t all go to waste,” he muttered to himself.

All those months ago when he’d fought tooth and nail for the heart beating in his chest, many had thought him mad. Paranoid. They thought he’d done it because he hadn’t trusted those around him.

They had been wrong. Everything had all been part of a plan.

A placed a trembling finger on the map in front of him. It was brown, sheered from a great tree, bound to one animal skin or the other and treated as crafters knew how to. On it where curves and outlines, scratched designs depicting borders and mountains, seas and valleys.

His finger rested between two mountain peaks. Just above it was scribbled two words: Nel Quan.

The kingdom would be his conquest. It was his by right of conqueror. And if he died taking it, then it was never his to begin with. Though he doubted he would lose. With the [Heart of Nosrath] beating in his chest, death could claim him but it would hold no dominion over him.

Then a month ago he’d been saddled with the task of babysitter. He could still remember that blatantly annoying evening when he’d received his guest.

The man had walked into his throne room with the confidence of a man walking into his own house. At first Onyedi had thought him young for the hood that had concealed his face. His physique had been athletic like those who took greater pleasure in speed and acrobatics rather than strength.

Then the man had taken off the hood and his face had spoken of an age that came very close to ninety years. Grey hairs and green eyes had stared at him.

The man had carried a long bow at his back so long that it looked as if it was supposed to scrape the ground but it never did. Onyedi had thought him some type of [Archer] but the man carried no quiver. No arrows.

“Onyedi Mbaku,” the man had said casually. “Son of Nkem Mbaku. Grandson of Kezirim Mbaku, the usurper. I have come to speak and you shall listen.”

Onyedi had looked at him as one would a prisoner blinded by their own hubris. There had been no sound from the men that guarded the room.

“My men?” he had asked.

“Alive,” the man had replied. “But not in a position to disturb. Do not make me repeat myself, child. I have come to speak and you shall listen. If you do not, you will be replaced with one who will. Perhaps this one would hold the title since you do not.”

Onyedi had bristled in anger. He did not like the fact that he was the only king without the title of [King] on this part of Nastild. His rage had roared within him and he’d almost risen from his throne to lose his life.

But sanctioned by the system or not, titled or not, he was still king. And as a king, his father had told him of what all kings must fear and bow to. But he could not assume, he had refused to. Assumptions were the ways of the weak. The strong confirmed.

“[Sage],” he had said. A single word that carried the weight of more than a kingdom, if his father’s words were to be believed.

His father had never claimed to know what a [Sage] was capable of, but he’d always spoken of a [Sage] as a person whose arrogance did their abilities no justice.

A [Sage] was supposed to be shrouded in mystery but his father always believed that that mystery was there to shroud the true lengths of their power.

“Since you know who I am,” the old man had said with a voice that did not shake or quiver, “then this will go smoothly. I will return here in three days. I will find you and your elders and your chiefs waiting for me and I will give you a task.”

Onyedi had shaken his head in refusal. “I have things that must be done.”

The [Sage] had made a dismissive gesture. “Your war can wait.”

Onyedi had stiffened at that. Before then, none had known of his plans to take the kingdom of Nel Quan. It had been a plan kept close to his heart. He had mapped everything out himself.

But the [Sage] had known.

“There is always a time for war, child,” the [Sage] had said. “Yours does not come now. I will give you your task and you will carry it out. It is that simple.”

Then the man had turned and walked away as simply as he’d come. His green hooded cloak had been soundless in his departure as it had been in his entrance. His bow that was far too long had barely touched the ground from its place at his back.

True to his words, the man had returned. Obedient, Onyedi had followed his instructions and had summoned his elders and chiefs and they had come.

The man had placed his bow on the ground at the center of the throne room and everyone had seen that it had no string. Then it had stretched itself, reaching out like an overgrown tree root at the heart of a forest to form an intricate design.

In the end, it had taken up the form of a drawn spell mixed with enchantments.

After a moment, it glowed a soft blue so deep that it was almost black. It radiated so much power that Onyedi had found himself bound by the urge to covet it. When the power faded, the bow without a string had returned to the back of the [Sage] and the center of the throne room was occupied by the peaceful bodies of sleeping children around the age of Onyedi’s third son. Some older and some younger.

“Care for them. Train them. Make them strong.” The [Sage] had looked him dead in the eye from across the distance between them. “They will fight for this world and one of them might be made [Hero]. Then they will fight for you.”

That was all. The man was gone and Onyedi had heard nothing ever since. So he had trained them and cared for them for a month. He had also manipulated the few he could so that they were loyal to him.

And now here he was. Alone with plans some old man had told him to put on hold.

He almost scoffed at how ludicrous the idea of him giving up his conquest was. Four months from now was the perfect time to strike. His kingdom would be fresh from the season of Harmattan and Nel Quan would be celebrating the beauty of their kingdom as their winter snow thawed at the touch of the sun.

Then he would replace their snow with their blood and honor their throne with the glory of his rulership.

He would not refuse his conquest. I cannot.

He would raise the children given to him by the [Sage] then fight his war as well. After all, what was a king who did not know how to multitask at such a level?

Onyedi turned, sighing again, and leaned against the table. He had been sighing a lot recently. It reminded him of his father in his later days. Always sighing. Always looking troubled and aged.

Oyed had vowed that he would not be his father. Even now he vowed that he would not. He would not be a man that continued to long to be given what he was told that he could not have.

Beyond the window was the thing his father had yearned and pined for. A long bar of black, a single black pillar of the night, rising high into the sky to pierce the heavens.

His father had taken him there once. According to him, the pillar, as wide as a house, acknowledged kings. But it did not acknowledge his father. And now it did not acknowledge Onyedi.

Every now and then, he would go to it. He would place his hand against its surface, feel the absence of sensation that came with touching it. And he would always look upon the interface that appeared before him.

[You do not meet the requirement to use this feature.]

Up close the pillar was the same color as the flash of radiant power the [Sage] had displayed in bringing the children to Onyedi. And something told Onyedi that it was the power he needed to use whatever the feature was.

There was rumor of a mana crystal in the vaults of Nel Quan that possessed the same color. Rumors he had eventually confirmed. But the Queen of Nel Quan would not give it to him even if he asked for it.

He hadn’t asked for it, but he knew. Those with the title of monarchy, those that paraded themselves about with the title of [King] and [Queen], always looked down on men like him. So he would not ask for it. He would take it.

Once upon a time, as a naïve child, he had once asked his father why he yearned so much for the pillar—why he often spoke to the pillar asking to be given access? He still remembered his father’s words.

It only saddened Onyedi that he’d gotten an answer for his father a little too late. His father’s response, after all, had been a question.

If they don’t give it to you, son, then how will you take it?

Onyedi stared at the pillar, an answer on his lips.

“…By force.”