While the Slave Marks proved generally useful, they completely failed in compelling any answers, much less the ones she desired. After nearly half an hour of testing, I quickly concluded that the prism only applied restrictions. Not requirements. While I could prohibit the enslaved guards from speaking about me or running away, I could not force them into speaking, much to my chagrin. The mark could inflict pain upon disobedience of any order, but the slave could still refuse, or even choose to only temporarily comply.
I could torture them for the answers I wanted, but torture tended to reveal what the tortured thought I wanted to hear, not necessarily the truth. Without an Awakened specialized in a mind-related attribute, I wouldn’t be able to guarantee the veracity unless I had enough time to condition their thoughts. Unfortunately, I had neither the time nor patience for that.
I was about to announce I’d free the first newly branded soldier who told me the City Lord’s plan and more about Cael when Nida was sent crashing from one of the cells. There wasn’t much space, and the force of the blow easily sent her careening into the bars of an adjacent cell. Her head whipped back with a thud, and she dropped, blacking out for a few seconds before coming to with a groan.
A large, dark-skinned woman with silver eyes stepped out from the furthest cell. She flipped a lock of tightly braided black and gray hair over her shoulder with a smirk. On her heels were four or five others, all dressed the same as her in a blue uniform blazer and trousers of the Sealrite city guard. Different, however, were the many stripes of silver covering their chests and shoulders. The woman clicked her tongue, seemingly unbothered by my authority.
“Foolish welp,” she sneered, flexing her giant hands.
“I cannot believe she simply opened the cell,” another snickered from behind her. I could tell it was male by the voice, but his appearance was shrouded by the darkness of the underground.
The woman shook her head with feigned disappointment. “So young. So inexperienced in the ways of magic,” she said with a glance at Nida. Then she glanced at me, quirking an eyebrow before laughing. “I thought you were more knowledgeable than this, Saintess.”
I schooled my expression into neutrality and expanded my senses toward the cells, searching for what magic she was talking about. It took a moment, but I found it; traces of magic ringed about the cells, interlocking a complex pattern into a closed circle.
“Ah,” I muttered. “We broke the magic restraints.” That was quite fascinating. The more I learned about magic, the more complex it seemed to get. I briefly wondered just how powerful magic could be at the height of its complexities but quickly refocused on the confident city guards not yet enslaved.
She scoffed, strolling casually over to Nida and kicking the waking Paragon in the ribs. Hard. “At least you are a quick learner, girl.”
Then, something pulsed within the woman. That same something pulsed in all the silver-striped city guards.
An invisible force similar to Authority suddenly slammed down on me as if the gravity around me had been multiplied. The pulsations were not heart energy. The source came from each of their stomachs — not their hearts.
Magic.
And not the puny, delayed magic I’d previously sensed. No. Each of them had something solid near their stomachs. Not a meridian or a dantian, but something more akin to a bronze-level heart Core. My eyes widened in curiosity, and my Core flared with the desire to dominate.
I flashed forward at my maximum speed, likely disappearing and reappearing in the eyes of the soldiers. The woman only had time to gawk before my fist cracked into her chest, duly avoiding the stomach in case I accidentally shattered her magic core. The others didn’t have time to resist either.
Increasing my Authority to further immobilize them, I proceeded to shatter each of their magic sources with powerful strikes to their stomachs. Ribs cracked and shattered, and they all collapsed, vomiting blood and the contents of their stomachs before passing out in pools of their collective filth.
I dragged the still-conscious dark-skinned woman away from the mass of broken bodies to a slightly cleaner area.
“W-what…?” She stammered, her eyes dilating in confusion and pain.
“What is that source of power in your stomach?” I asked, jabbing a finger into it to direct her attention. She winced but didn’t answer.
“My lady,” Chella answered softly. “That’s a Magic Core.”
My head snapped toward the giantess. “Do you know about magic?”
She shrugged. “About as much as the next person. It’s not a secret. I’m more surprised you haven’t learned about it yet.”
“Is it like a Heart Core?” I continued to sense the abundance of strange power stemming from the woman’s stomach.
“In a way, yes. But also no, I suppose. We are taught that a Heart Core is used to circulate and create heart energy for a User. A Magic Core, however, is used to store a reservoir of mana from your environment. If someone manages to form either, they’re considered to be a master of that type of energy.”
“A master?” I said, throwing Chella a doubtful expression. “That’s a fairly low bar. Nida, get up and come here.” The Therianthrope groaned from where she still lay, clutching at her stomach with a green light, no doubt healing the damage to her ribs. “You’re fine. She’s not much more powerful than you are.” I would need to work on raising my remaining Paragons to at least Bronze-level Cores soon.
Nida stumbled to her feet and waddled toward me, still holding her side gingerly. “Yes, my queen?”
“Hold this,” I said and tossed her Orpheus’ core. When she caught it, all the air fled her lungs with an oomph, and she fell to her ass under the weight of the core. I resisted the urge to laugh, turning back to the magic core.
Perhaps this was the answer I’d searched for even in my previous life. The way to surpass a Diamond Core. Surely if I created two Diamond cores and merged their processes, I would awaken an immeasurable power.
I needed to study it further.
“What are you going to do with me?” the woman asked. I ignored her, not bothering to give her so much as a glance. The woman wasn’t important and neither was her life. She was an enemy and a pawn.
Stolen story; please report.
Instead, I circulated some lunar attribute energy to my fingers. With speed and cold efficiency, I thrust my hand into her gut directly toward the solid magic core. Unlike with a heart core, it didn’t seem to be completely embedded into the stomach. I grabbed it and, with a single tug, it ripped from whatever organ it had been attached to. Both my hand and the core came out without stain or gore, the heat of my lunar energy burning away what fluid it came into contact with.
The sound that erupted from the guard was not a scream; it was something bloodcurdling as if I had just torn apart her very soul. Even I reacted to it with a wince, and a cold shiver ran up my spine. Her body spasmed violently, utter agony clear on the woman’s face as her flesh began to split and blood seeped freely.
“What in the hells,” I said, jumping to my feet. I stared at the heart core in my hand; a yellow diamond that vibrated every few seconds like a heartbeat. I turned to my new Paragon. “Rosa, change into this woman’s clothing. You are to take her place so the Duke doesn’t wonder what happened. I’m assuming these were the Sealrite elites.”
“And the others?” Chella asked. “Duke Alistar will notice the elite city guards are down to one.”
I grunted. “They aren’t dead. If he asks, tell him there was a crack in the magic of the cells. Ethan and some of the resurrected guards subdued them.” As Dralos returned the red prism to me, I pocketed it along with the magic core for later.
The guard woman’s soul, however, hovered over her heart, its orange-white flame unblemished despite the state of her body. As I’d done before, I reached out with my Soul Weaver energy and tried to shove the soul back into the body.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: Resurrection has failed.]
What? Failed? I frowned and tried again.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: Resurrection has failed.]
I tried again.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: Resurrection has failed.]
My expression went taut as the frown deepened. The resurrection had never failed before. I looked at Dralos, who seemed to always know what was happening with the Resurrected.
“I am not able to resurrect her,” I said simply.
He nodded. “That is not surprising, my Queen. You removed her link to nature.” I just stared at him for a moment and then shook my head, assuming he was referring to her Magic Core. There was so much about magic I didn’t know, and at this rate, I was going to be blindsided by it in a dangerous situation. Duke Alistar had said he would be hiring a tutor of sorts, so perhaps that would help solve part of my knowledge gap.
With a sigh, I glanced back toward the newly enslaved and sat back on the chair, taking Orpheus’ core back from Nida. “The first of you to come forward that can tell me what core level the City Lord is at will be freed and given a free pass to leave Sealrite in the future.”
Enough silence followed that I was rather impressed by the loyalty Marquess Sharma had managed to gain from his guards. Then, it broke.
“I have the information you seek.” The voice came from a young man who stepped forward to the front of the cell directly to my left. He clutched the bars of his jail, limping to avoid putting pressure on the burnt flesh under his left foot. “But I will only give it if I am promised to become what she is.” He pointed to Rosa.
“Oh,” I said as I stood. My new shoes squelched as I walked through the pool of blood created by the dead guard. Dark, crimson liquid splashed up around the edges, staining the once pristine leather and clinging to the tapered hem of my trousers. Even when I left the red puddle, the soles, now slick with gore, left a bright trail of blood as I moved forward, each step a grim warning to others of the violence that had transpired. “You wish to become a Paragon?” He nodded. “Tell me your information first.” The soldier was younger than I had initially thought. He couldn’t be older than his early twenties, but he looked at me with determined fear.
The boy shook his head. “No. I need your guarantee first.”
“Hmmm.” I crossed my arms in front of me, tapping a finger against my biceps in thought. “You understand that I am an enemy of your lord, yes?”
“He is not my lord,” he seethed, hatred and anger surging through his words. With a few quick motions, he tore the remains of his shirt off, revealing a large tattoo of a grey mountain peak. “I am one of the last survivors of Mt. Grail. Give me the power to take vengeance for my people, whom the Marquess bastard slaughtered, and I will serve you for eternity. The revenge and justice of my people are worth a thousand times more than my freedom.” The line separating recklessness and bravery was almost invisible, and I wasn’t sure which side of the line the kid was on. At the very least, it seemed he was determined enough to have formed around five heart rings though he was Coreless.
There was a smattering of disgruntled whispers following the boy’s words, but it didn’t seem like anyone had the nerve to speak up against the traitorous words.
“You have my guarantee,” I confirmed. “What is your name?”
His shoulders sagged with relief as he breathed out a heavy sigh. “Joshua, my lady. Joshua Evander.” He paused and cleared his throat with a dry cough that likely tasted of iron. “Marquess Sharma is a powerful mage. He was never able to awaken a heart core, but he’s known to be a prodigy of magic. Publicly, he’s said to have reached the second tier of his magic core. I believe he broke through to the third tier a few months ago.” When I stared at him blankly, he had the intelligence to look sheepish. “The third tier of a magic core is like the gold tier for a heart core. Crazy strong. The elites you just killed around are only a fraction of what he has. He’s been secretly out of the city for almost three months now. I’m not sure why, but I heard it has to do with the orcs at the northern border.”
“The Diamond Orc Militia?” I asked, recalling what Gronch had said about his home.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Do you have any idea when he is planning to return?”
Joshua shook his head. “No, my lady. But the Lord is very… attached to this city. He will likely rush back.”
Duke Alistar had suggested it would be weeks, if not months, before Marquess Sharma returned to his city. If Joshua was correct, they were in for a much earlier attack. However, perhaps such a rushed attack would also be weaker with the lack of preparation.
I continued to ask Joshua questions about the Marquess and his forces, their approximate strength, passages inside the estate, and the locations of all the guilds. He answered each question without pause and with enough detail to satisfy my curiosity. When I ran out of questions, I granted him access to the Desire System as he had wished.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: Congratulations! Paragon 089 has achieved successful metamorphosis and a class upgrade.]
[Name: Joshua Evander]
[Class: Primal Ranger]
[Race: Human?]
[SYSTEM NOTE: Paragon’s initial level has been raised by 10 after merging with Host’s Core energy.]
[Level: 24]
[Open subwindow for additional statistics on Paragon 089]
As we left, I stopped at the first resurrected guard. “There’s a bit of blood that needs to be cleaned up.”
He saluted in the Aedronirian fashion. “Aye, my Queen. It will be handled.”
“Stop doing that,” I hissed, glancing around us. “Salute normally if you must salute at all.”
“I am saluting normally, my Queen," the guard said, visibly squirming under my glare. Dralos chuckled at the resurrected soldier’s confusion and I shot the draconian a blistering stare.
“Teach him the proper salute of Lysoria if he's forgotten it.” I stomped off in annoyance. If someone saw or overheard the guard’s actions, it could lead down a truly bothersome path I was not ready for.