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Lyn touched one claw-hand with the other. She could tell they were wickedly sharp. This will complicate things in the bedroom, she thought. But…let’s try something. She focused her mana within her body. “Adhano nin ennas / nan hen / en-Duskari.” Once more, she tried an external shifting spell. The heat in her chest flooded through her whole body, and she saw the scales and talons shift away, her regular Duskari form taking its place. And apparently this core can access shifting spells now.

She would need to test it later, but she might be able to use this to take on her human form once more. But the more she thought on that idea…why would she? This new body was the body of Lyn Rivers, the Destroyer, and soon enough, empress of the world. If she wanted to infiltrate the kingdoms, she could create an inscribed item to allow for illusory disguises. Yeah…fuck my old body. This one is better. Turning to her allies she waved for them, “Come. Let’s finish this dungeon.”

Gael and Vael both nodded and picked up their gear, following behind closely. “My Lady?” Gael asked.

“Just Lyn. You both know the truth. Only keep up the charade of ‘Demonic Dragon’ and ‘the Destroyer’ and the like when we are around others within my regime.”

“Of course, my lad…Lyn,” Gael replied. “If I may ask-”

“Just ask. You two are my confidants now. I’ll treat you as an equal while we are out, just the three of us. But…keep the fact that I was once the Scout hero a secret. Not that any would actually believe you if you did tell them…but I trust you two with this knowledge.”

“Of course. Thank you for your trust…Why make an empire for all races? Why not just Duskari?”

Lyn shook her head, “On Earth, where I come from, I saw the effects of racism and how devastating they were. I’m not naïve, there will always be superiority of the Ari and Duskari due to our longevity.” Our…yup, that cements it. I’m one of them. “However, we can still push for an egalitarian society – all people are equal and deserve equal rights and opportunities. True equality will never exist. But we can level the playing field. Give everyone else an opportunity to thrive.”

Vael smiled and walked alongside her down the long corridor, “So…Lyn…Who is better in bed? Me or Gael?”

Lyn didn’t expect that question and let out a guffaw before constraining herself once more. “That’s hard to say. Gael is way better at plowing me into the mattress, and sometimes that just feels so, so good. But you give me more pleasure. I guess it just depends on what mood I’m in.”

Vael smirked and looked at Gael, “Told you. You owe me a Gold Eagle.”

Gael rolled his eyes, “Fiiine.”

Lyn smirked. An odd sibling relationship, but at least now they’re being more of themselves around me instead of putting on a mask. The long, marble hallway expanded down before them. Last corridor before the final chamber, Lyn thought. The twins ribbed each other over what they did better than the other to Lyn. Almost like they were comparing notes to one-up each other. She could tell they were very competitive, and she had been treated with such reverence before that she couldn’t have noticed it. They’re very good at keeping their emotions locked down. A valuable skill, for sure.

The hallway ended and opened into an enormous chamber. “Shit,” Lyn muttered.

“What is it?” Gael asked as he cut off his banter about the best angle for thrusting.

“This is going to be a big, big monster.”

The twins put the supplies down and repeated their prior spells from the last encounter. Lyn released the mana that was enforcing the shifting spell as the claws, talons, scales, and horns returned. As she gripped the hilt of Cataclysm, it shifted and warped to better accommodate her new appendages. She willed the inscribed armor to cover her body, and then incanted her go-to, custom-worded, internal spell. “Gothron i gwanno / min enni / na rem in edin nin: / na nin togwath, athano hain thron, gwelu, throneth, a nîn rath; / na nin inath, cirad nin hoth; / na nin inedhil, athano nin thîr a cirad nin; / na nin rhaw, hathol han uin del." The only part she omitted was mana charging her weapon, as it was made of pure mana.

Her skin was covered in a shimmering layer of prismatic hues as her body became much harder to damage. Her muscles surged in size until her build rivaled that of the most ripped female bodybuilder on Earth. Her sight sharpened and every small detail of the room became much clearer and more defined. The best combat-preparation spell she could come up with in her past life. The mana surged through her body and filled her up from toes to top of her horns. Huh, they have sensitivity? Interesting. The blade in her grip ignited and surged, the handle extending to that of a great sword, and the blade of lava becoming wreathed in a roaring hurricane.

She looked back at her allies who stared, slack jawed. “I’ll teach you this spell. But for now…are you ready?”

They both nodded and raised their weaponry as their mana covered their weaponry. “Ready!” they said in tandem.

Lyn stepped forward and put her hand on the pedestal. The lights went out, and a grey portal opened.

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Misty jumped out of her chair. What the hell? She reached around to her back pocket and her eyes went wide as she felt the inscribed slip of metal warming up. “Fuck!” She shouted. Turning to one of her acolytes who looked up at her with concern from his tomes, she issued orders. The acolyte sprinted down the hallway, lifting their robes to keep from tripping, as Misty sprinted behind her. Fuck fuck fuck! That inscription going off only meant one thing – Thomas was dead.

She had minutes to act. If too much time passed, it would be too late. She rushed past the scholars who were practicing their penmanship in Elenthir – the first years. Past the experiment and training rooms and met a group of fourth-year acolytes at the entrance to the death spells laboratories. She entered alongside them and rapidly incanted a spell to disable the wards and traps she had laid; stasis traps that would only paralyze a person. Keeping some of the nosier first-years away from studies they couldn’t handle. She went through the inner door for the death undeath studies, and down a long corridor filled with drawers set into the walls. A morgue. Going to the furthest one, she pulled the slab out.

Thomas had helped her so much in setting up this mage school, she had to repay him. This was it, her chance to clear her debt to him. Then I can forget he even exists. He had brought a body to her – a copy of himself. She didn’t ask how he made it, and he didn’t volunteer the information. It was heavily inscribed in Elenthir that had been carved as scars – only the neck and head were not covered in the language of magic. Being the Mage hero, Misty knew exactly what it said. It was the most complicated verse she had ever seen; an enormous, singular spell with a single purpose – to recall the deceased.

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She poured her prodigious mana into the body, and at her instruction, her acolytes channeled mana into her that she then poured into the corpse as well.

The chest rose and fell gently. Blood began to pulse as the heart began to beat. And the eyes opened as Thomas took a deep breath. He sat up and coughed several times, his eyes whirling around the room in panic as he gripped his torso, feeling for a wound that wasn’t there.

“Hey champ,” Misty said. “So, you died-”

“Fucking James!” Thomas’ eyes began to stream tears. “He killed me!”

Misty covered her mouth. Why?

Thomas answered her unspoken question, “I did it Misty. I destroyed the statue.”

She sat, stunned, on the lab bench. Her acolytes came forward and asked a variety of questions about her well-being, but she waved them away. “Just…leave us, please.” They acquiesced, and soon it was just Misty and Thomas in the chamber. “Were we right?”

Thomas nodded as he wiped the tears away from his eyes. “The mana cores were stored inside.”

Misty nodded, “And the statue is no more.”

Thomas grinned slightly and chuckled, the mirth at his action overtaking his sorrow at betrayal from his friend. “Yes…I fucking did it!”

“The cycle is broken…What happened to your mana core?”

Thomas shrugged, “No clue.” His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. “Hector!” He got up and as he stood, his legs gave out and he collapsed. Misty ran over and pulled him upright, leaning him against the wall. He was hyperventilating, reaching for something on his hip that wasn’t there, eyes bulging in sheer panic. “I need him!”

Misty held him close, “We’ll get him back for you.” She knew that the wyvern was the only thing keeping him from descending into full on alcoholic stupor. His emotional support animal. His best friend in the whole world. Misty turned and shouted for an acolyte. One of them sheepishly opened the door. “Tend to him,” she ordered, as she left the woman in charge of Thomas.

Misty left and ascended the stairs to the top of the highest spire. Her mage school was in Vharthos, a small kingdom ruled by the Vharthon, the fox-folk. Near the borders of Trisk and along the ocean. Standing atop the flat tower, she put her hand onto one of the Elenthir inscriptions facing the South. Channeling her mana, she focused her intent on Hector and felt the communication spell go off.

Minutes passed…

Several minutes…

No response came back. No connection was made. She didn’t hear anything.

Fuck.

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The figure that stepped through the shimmering grey portal was something Lyn was quite familiar with. And she absolutely fucking hated it. The skittering legs, the beady eyes, the venomous fangs…Fucking spiders.

Not just a spider, though. This was a Titan Spider. An enormous version, covered with hardened, chitinous plates that could rival the strongest steel on Ghomar. Its legs were tipped with wickedly sharp spikes that could pierce through plate mail like butter. Instinctively, Lyn raised her palm. “Britha pân bo nin!” A torrent of lava surged from her torso and into her left palm, blasting out of her mana channel. The burning torrent burst forth and covered the creature, and it screeched in pain and outrage.

It closed with Lyn, skittering nearer as it swiped several legs in rapid succession at her torso. Thanks to the earlier internal spell, she was able to visually track the appendages and parried or dodged them. But that’s when she caught sight of it – a faint, shimmering hue surrounding the limbs. It’s mana charged? The situation had just become far more dire.

Gael and Vael dashed to opposite sides, raising their hands, and incanting in unison. “En ethiel an le / thalion min / an aglaro / a blasto nan govadhren / a I thalion en-aear!” A torrential blast of water shot out of their hands and impacted the spider. A firehose of magical liquid that smothered the creature, caused the floor to become slick, but more than that – it hardened the lava still on the creature. It pushed against the bulk surrounding it, the obsidian weighing it down.

Lyn took advantage of that and brought her blade through one of the striking legs. She severed it cleanly, and the creature hissed with pain. Its body began to glow a bright brown color as the obsidian cracked upon its back.

Then, it exploded. The rocky shell surrounding it becoming a fragmentation grenade that filled the whole room with wickedly sharp chunks. And they were all mana charged.

Vael and Gael dove prone, but the shrapnel impacted them and pierced through their hardened skin and into their bodies. Lyn heard their screams of pain. But she, too, was impacted by the chunks of rock. A large cascade that ricocheted off of her armor – but the impacts still bruised her, and she hissed in pain and sucked in air through her teeth.

The Titan Spider scuttled its way to Lyn, and she pushed herself up, taking a ready stance despite her protesting muscles and incredibly bruised, sore body. She had to concentrate fully on the creature in front of her, sparing not even a glance at her downed allies, as it assaulted her with three legs and wove in several attempted bites with those venomous fangs.

The frenzied barrage from the creature was almost overwhelming, and Lyn felt panic rise in her chest. Did I take on something too strong too fast? She thought. Just like the first dungeon the heroes had entered? Where she lost classmates and allies. Just like she might lose Vael and Gael…

Snap out of it! She chided herself and forced her mind to the present. She couldn’t give in to the memories and let them take over. That would mean death. I’m the Destroyer damnit! I’m stronger than this! She let loose a battle cry and, heedless of the attacks coming her way, dashed under the creature and brought her blade along the center-line of it. The wind-sheathed lava pierced easily into the soft underbelly, and she ran out the back of the creature before it collapsed, curling into a ball and flipping over before fading to nothingness.

And that’s when she felt it. The lethargy. Looking over at her shoulder, she saw a tiny hole that oozed a viscous, red blood. From one of its fangs. Fuck me. It must have been an extremely strong monster. It had pierced her armor and her internal spell. Not much, but just enough to deliver the venom. She could feel the substance coursing through her, and thanks to her earlier internal spell increasing her heart rate and blood flow – it was in her entire system. She felt her muscles begin to lock up as the paralytic began to cause her to seize.

Maybe I can burn it out. “Anor min / nartho hain I daeth nin.” The effect was immediate, as she felt the mana surge through her whole body, and her muscles relaxed as her whole body vented steam. Wait…does that mean I can heal?

She put away her weapon as the doors at the far end of the room opened. Ignoring that, she ran over to Gael and lifted him up. He groaned as she lifted him and moved him to their supplies. Running to Vael, she did the same. Raising her hand, she incanted a simple healing spell Trisha had taught all of the heroes; one that came to her naturally. “En ethiel an le / thalion min / leithio nin mellon / a panno hain garan.” She felt the mana churn…but nothing happened. Then how did I heal myself?

Lyn rifled through the supplies as she let her internal spells fade. She found the medical kit quickly enough and opened the satchel, laying out the cloth before putting the poultices and medicine to the side. “Alright you two, stay still. I’ve got you.” She began the meticulous process of removing shrapnel, staunching the bleeding, and patching the wound with an aloe-like sap she squeezed from the bark of a tree native to Ghomar with antiseptic properties. Bind it properly, just like Trisha taught us.

She took her time taking care of them – there was no rush inside the dungeon since they had defeated that room. And it hadn’t even been close to an hour since they entered. Six days for us to loot the final room. No more encounters. She spent the time thinking through the various spell types, and all she could reason is that she could heal herself the way the Demonic Dragon regenerated. To test her theory, she used one of the shards of obsidian, charged it with mana, and cut her skin. Focusing on the wound, she muttered the incantation once more: “Anor min / nartho hain I daeth nin.”

Her skin sizzled as lava bubbled up through it before it sealed shut. Fuck yes!

Her survivability just shot through the roof. A regeneration internal spell. Trisha had theorized that it was possible, but none of the heroes could pull it off. But I’m not a hero anymore. She looked forward resolutely towards the hall that led to the reward chamber.

I’m the Destroyer.