I resurrected four more guardsmen before we finally reached a large steel door that was barred by an equally dense metal bar laid horizontally across the front and locking the door in place with crackling energy. I didn't pay much attention to the lock, still lost in thought and biting my upper lip in a mixture of confusion and continued shock. Every resurrection I performed since acquiring the Desire System resulted in an Aedronirian salute. All five of the duke’s men had gotten back to their feet and promptly performed the traditional military greeting of an Aedronirian soldier.
How? That should have been impossible. Even if the Desire System retained some knowledge from the Main System, the progenitors wouldn’t have cared enough about Aedronirian military tradition to know the salute. It didn’t make any sense.
Unless the Desire System was using my memories? But even if that were true, how could it influence souls in the Nothingness? How could it remotely interfere in a place beyond life?
I was shaken from my revelry when Dralos nudged me. Hard. His normally stoic expression twisted into what I could only assume was a look of worry from the draconian. If not for the slight creases at the corner of his yellow eyes, I might have thought him angry.
With a sigh, I looked back toward the door where Chella stood, her face a very obvious mask of confusion. “Lady Lilliana? Is everything okay?”
I ignored her. “Is the door unable to be opened?”
Chella shook her head. “Normally, that would be so. But I saw how you overwrote the magic and energy in the slave mark. This would be the same method.”
“Is it magic?” I asked as I approached, the occasional sparks of blue static an unfamiliar phenomenon.
“Neither. Both,” she answered.
“How can it be neither and both?”
Chella shrugged. “I am not a scholar. But magic creates while heart energy transforms. A powerful Core user can imbue cast magic with heart energy to make it more powerful.”
“Fascinating,” I muttered, touching the steel bar with my hand. Blue lines of lightning erupted from the lock in an angry crack, but I swallowed the urge to shout from pain and focused on the mixture of magic and energy protecting the slab of steel blocking my path. The majority of what I could sense was lightning-attributed heart energy with hints of that strange other power I’d come to recognize as magic.
The magic jumped around the particles of heart energy, seeming to never remain in one place. Whenever the magic drifted through its counterpart, the heart energy seemed to flare with power. It was like a randomized wave, and even after a few minutes of examination, it remained impossible to predict the path the protection magic would take.
“Can you break it?” Chella asked.
“This is nothing like the slave mark,” I said. “The slave marks may have had traces of magic, but they were mostly made of heart energy. This lock doesn’t just have traces of magic; the magic here is imbued quite skillfully into the foundation of the energy restrictions. I’ve never seen anything like it. Though, I suppose I could perhaps simply overwhelm its threshold.” I would prefer to undo the knot of magic and heart energy in a way that left no trace of any disruption, but until I learned more about magic, I didn’t have many alternatives than brute force.
I fueled a large push of heart energy from my Core and out through my free hand on the gimmick of magic and energy, my other hand still gripping Orpheus’ core. At first, nothing happened, and I focused, pouring ever more into the lock. Then, sparks and streaks of lightning surged from the lock in a myriad of colors, and more loud cracks cackled around my arms. The air around me quickly filled with burnt flesh as the miniature explosions of magic and energy flared against the skin of my arms in rapid succession, as if in competition with my natural regenerative capabilities of a silver Core.
Then the steel bar shattered in a final explosion, lashing out with shards of hardened metal in all directions. I instantly put up a protective barrier of raw energy, but a small cry of pain from behind me suggested I’d been a fraction too late. When I turned to look over my shoulder, Nida was wincing while she removed a finger-long sliver of steel from her leg.
“Can you heal that?” I asked. She nodded, a glare of green light emanating from her palms over the wound as it began to slowly close. “Good.”
The door opened easily after that, its well-oiled hinges soundless when I expected it to creak. The path of narrow stairs leading into the bowels of the estate reminded me of the slave dungeon and filled my mouth with a sour taste. Though withstanding the struggle and disrespect of enslavement had been a necessary evil, the experience continued to grate on me. That nagging, ceaseless twist in my gut would likely remain unsatisfied until I brought down those who had dared cast me into those depths. Morgana Silverwater was at the top of my list, but I doubted a young girl not even in her second decade could have organized something so complex on her own regardless of her intelligence. Dealing with the Goldenhearts was quickly climbing to the top of my more pressing priorities.
The four of us descended the thin set of spiraling stone stairs until the air became cold, as thick with dust as it was oppressive. Sounds of ragged breathing and sobs came fast and loud, echoing off the walls hewn from rough, dark stones damp with moisture. The further we walked in, the more torches began to illuminate our passage down, sputtering and casting their signature flickering shadows to combat the overwhelming depths of darkness.
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The cells were small and cramped when we eventually stepped off the staircase, thick iron bars layered with the neglect of rust and grime. There were no candles at the bottom, only a single small golden sphere of heart energy. But even under the dim light, I could see the uneven floors covered in filth, blood, and vomit; it was a testament to the suffering endured by those imprisoned here in recent hours. Each of the six cells was cramped with city guards of varying conditions. Though all had clearly been tortured to some extent, some were much more injured than others.
When I approached, walking under the golden sphere, I could see hints of recognition spark either hope or despair in the captives. Much as there had been in the Colosseum, their whispers shifted from Saintness to Demon in rapid succession.
“S-saintness,” muttered one of the guards. A woman, I realized. Large brown eyes peered at me through iron bars, her face matted in dirt and blood. “Have you come to free us?”
“Perhaps,” I responded without a hint of emotion. “In truth, I have come to provide all of you with an option. Your choice from here may result in further pain, freedom, or even both.” The previous whispers vanished, an aura of trepidation mixing with the humidity. I pulled over one of two rotting wooden chairs from the wall to the center of the room and sat. “Nida, come forward.” The silver-haired Paragon did as I bid, stopping at my side. “I can grant each of you with a power great enough to achieve your dreams. Your desires. Your vengeance. I will not interfere with your path, whatever it may be. You will become a Paragon of power like Nida. In return, however, you will pledge allegiance to me. If you accept this deal, your soul will be forever bound to mine. You have five minutes.”
There was not even a second of pause before the woman who had spoken reached through the cell bars, trembling with the effort of simply holding forward her hand. “I wish to serve you as a… Paragon?” she whispered, seeming to struggle with remembering the word as her voice quickly lost strength. I could tell the woman was dying, the scent of death permeating strongly off her. A single glance told me she’d been beaten much worse than the others around her.
No one else volunteered, even as the woman’s arm dropped back to her side. I strode over to the cell door and ripped it off its hinges, circulating a bit of heart energy to empower me. I caught a hint of movement behind the woman and released some more heart energy, converting it to a large enough amount of Authority that the weakened city guards would be rendered immobile.
I pulled the dagger from its sheath again, cutting a line across the palm of the woman’s hand as well as my own. She smiled weakly, holding her arm up with the last of her strength as I gripped her palm tightly against mine. And, just like all the other Paragons, a powerful swell of energy exploded around us and the woman’s eyes fluttered open with a desperate gasp for air.
I checked her status.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: Congratulations! Paragon 088 has achieved successful metamorphosis and a class upgrade.]
[Name: Rosa Evernight]
[Class: Primal Huntress]
[Race: Human?]
[SYSTEM NOTE: Paragon’s initial level has been raised by 6 after merging with Host’s Core energy.]
[Level: 34]
[Open subwindow for additional statistics on Paragon 088]
Out of curiosity and since I had the time, I clicked [Open] and was presented with a handful of menu options.
[Paragon Path Details]
[Paragon Generation and Bloodline Tree]
[Paragon Unique Skillsets]
I mentally tapped open [Paragon Path Details].
[Path: Vengeance]
[Details: Vengeance against Duke Collin Alistar and his soldiers for conquering her home and killing her brother and husband.]
As her body grew and her muscles tightened into long ropes of strength and agility, more of the guards began to volunteer. But it didn’t matter to me how much they begged for it now. I hadn’t come expecting to create more Paragons; I’d simply been interested to see if there were any who truly believed in the grace of Saintess Lilliana. That, and to create some hidden, enslaved tools for later.
Only one, apparently.
“Quiet,” I commanded, expanding my Authority to encompass and drown the entirety of the captured guards in heavy, intangible force. “My offer has now ended.” I removed the glowing red prism from my pocket and tossed it over to Nida. “I want everyone here marked under their left foot. Go.”
Nida, Chella, and Dralos surged beyond the cell I’d already opened and got to work wrestling the soldiers under my Authority. I watched as they stripped the men and women of boots and socks before slamming the red prism onto each of their feet. The burning scent of flesh coalesced around us as Slave Marks were branded into their skin.
“Why are you screaming, you piece of shit?” Nida snarled as she pressed the prism into another immobile guard who screamed with pain, the flesh under his foot sizzling with smoke. “Not fond of slavery when you’re the one being enslaved, are you? I’m going to enjoy this, fuckers.”
While the three took care of branding the soldiers under the Desire System’s Slave Markings, I knelt next to my newest Paragon. The woman was only a head shorter than Ethan, but where the berserker was built like a tree, Rosa was sinewy and lean. Her muscles bunched like coils just waiting to spring. After the pain of her metamorphosis had ended, she’d immediately kowtowed at my feet. Her head pressed firmly to the floor while the rest of her remained unmoving.
“I am yours to command, My La-” her words cut short for a moment as if she was interrupted by something. “My Queen. A million thanks for the grace of power you have bestowed upon me.”
“Stand up, Paragon.” Rosa obeyed and stood. Though she towered over me, she continued her submissive posture under my gaze. “For now, you will have to remain in this cell. Do not do anything until you receive further orders, do you understand? I do not intend to interfere with your Path, but any immediate actions will interfere with my Path and I cannot have that. Understood?” Rosa nodded. “Good.”