Teaching Orlanda was surprisingly satisfying. Who knew training others could be fun? She picked up the fundamentals quickly enough, with a few miscrafts, but nothing disastrous. He even got a skill increase out of it.
That couldn’t be a mere coincidence. Skills refused to offer up any kind of progress bar or explanation, but there was definitely an element of novelty driving level ups. Ted updated his rather large range of spells whenever he could, but even doing that hundreds, if not thousands, of times, he’d never once leveled up a skill that way.
Alas, all too soon, she had to go. Something about exhaustion and needing sleep.
Pins stabbed at the back of Ted’s eyes. He gave in and accompanied her back to the mage barracks, taking the last few moments he might have to impart hard-won spellcrafting lessons to her.
She listened carefully, hanging on his words like her life depended on it. Maybe she’d make it after all.
He bade her good night and went to bed, falling asleep the moment he lay down. Or, at least, unconsciousness claimed him for a while. When he rose in the morning, his whole body ached, denying that he’d had a moment of real sleep.
Today was the day that… Yeah.
But not yet. The dim light of the cavern informed him he was up early, despite the busy sounds of construction and repair ringing out. He had time—he might as well check on the wood elves.
He hurried up to the keep and down into the portal room, but there wasn’t any more news from the Forest. Whatever the dungeon spawn were massing for, they hadn’t done it yet.
Soon, he’d be back. Back in the Forest, back with Cara. And he wouldn’t be alone. He’d have friends. Allies.
Maybe even…
His fists clenched up. He still had to decide about this whole Specialization business. The knot in his stomach told him to wait, reminding him just how stupid he’d feel if a better general Specialization came long right around the corner.
He bit his lip and stared at the portal lobby’s blank stone walls, admiring their protective runes. It wasn’t like leaving the Specialization unused did him any good. Besides, it might not even be a permanent choice—almost no one ever unlocked multiple options.
Then why call them Specializations? Why design them this way if there wasn’t an actual choice?
What if Heroes did get a choice, and this was the wrong one?
That was a whole lot of ifs. Besides, Battlemage seemed pretty damned perfect for a mage that got into a lot of battles.
Ted updated another version of Firebolt and hurled it against the wall. The fourth point of Efficiency he’d picked up was nice and all, but damn, it would be great if spells auto-updated with the latest upgrades.
Still, with all that practice, he had gotten very, very good at adjusting spells on the fly. That was an edge other spellcasters didn’t have.
Ted snorted and chuckled to himself. He’d gotten distracted from deciding whether to become a battlemage, which was itself a distraction.
Distractions all the way down. Cara would be proud.
Cara. Even leaving in the afternoon, he’d still have to travel from Erinbar to Tolabar, and flying through the Forest would be tricky with all those damned trees in the way. Hopefully, she was safe, well, and kicking some dungeon spawn ass.
Hopefully.
He took a deep breath. Decision time—he couldn’t keep putting it off forever. Did he go with the available and highly desirable battlemage Specialization, or hang on indefinitely in the hopes of better?
Specialization selected: Battlemage.
Subclass gained: Battlemage.
Ability learned: Beat Magic.
Ability learned: Uncover Magic.
Ability learned: Barrier.
Passive learned: Spell Storage.
Beat Magic: Allows deflecting magical projectiles when using appropriate equipment.
Mages were incredibly dangerous. Even if it was linked to Dexterity, any edge was nice, especially a passive like that. “Appropriate equipment” was a bit vague, but focusing internally on it suggested it meant an appropriately enchanted weapon.
Uncover Magic: When activated, highlights nearby hidden magic. Three charge ability. Recharges once per hour.
A welcome surprise, even if it wasn’t 100% effective. Shame it didn’t work continuously like Discern Magic, though.
Barrier: Creates a magical shield that can deflect incoming attacks. Protection magic. Channeled ability. Consumes ten mana per second while active.
Ted activated Barrier and created a small teal disc in the air, the same as but smaller than the one Kratgok had used to deflect a firebolt in their duel.
Battlemage skill increased 0 → 1!
No cooldown, and it worked with one hand or two. Two produced a larger and more potent shield, but didn’t leave a hand free for offense.
It would take some practice, but it looked a lot more time and mana efficient than Absorb—assuming he caught the projectile. Did it have to be projectiles?
He rechecked the ability. It said “attacks”, which suggested it would even work against physical blows. He’d have to test that out, ideally in a sparring match.
Spell Storage: Allows storing an Imbue spell in appropriate equipment indefinitely and without maintenance.
Interesting. Most weapons were very limited in their ability to hold Imbue effects in the first place. Cara’s myrellium arrow was probably worth more than everything else she owned, excluding her now magical bow.
Was that the point of the gemstone on the battlemage sword? It wasn’t magical itself, but it might be able to hold magical effects. With any luck, he’d be able to wield them safely now.
He updated another blastbolt spell, test-fired it at the wall, and headed for the council chamber. On the way up the narrow staircase, he checked out the Battlemage perks.
Magic Deflector (0/5): Increases effectiveness of Beat Magic by 20% per level.
Magic Detector (0/5): Increases effectiveness of Uncover Magic by 20% and adds an additional charge per level.
Mighty Barrier (0/5): Increases potency and shield radius of Barrier by 20% per level.
Spell Keeper (0/5): Increases the number of Imbue spells that can be stored via Spell Storage by one per level.
Concentration (0/5): Increases resistance to interruption while casting magic by 20% per level.
Resilience (0/5): Increases Magic Resilience by 10% per level.
A tough choice. Magic Deflector wouldn’t be worth it without a lot more Dexterity. Magic Detector looked like a waste considering the other options. Mighty Barrier would only help against certain attacks, and even then, only if he positioned it right. Relying on that would be dangerous with his Dexterity.
Concentration so far hadn’t been a huge issue. That left Spell Keeper and Resilience. With the robes, 10% extra Magic Resilience meant 10% extra Armor as well. A flat 10% increase in effective HP would be a tough act to beat, but there wasn’t any point picking without at least testing Spell Storage first.
Aside from a few guards, the council chamber was empty. The battlemage weapons lay upon the table exactly where they’d been left the day before. Ted approached the only guard without a full facemask and explained they’d been gifted to him.
The sergeant nodded and grunted that he knew.
Ted approached the weapons tentatively. Tension coiled through his body. He reached out, closed his eyes, and took hold of the sword handle.
No pain. No heat. No burning. His muscles unclenched and his shoulders fell back. He was a Battlemage now.
He held up the sword and inspected it. Two very thin lines of gold led out of the red gemstone, one on each side. The lines coiled up the handle to the hilt. From there, they continued up the middle of the two flat sides of the blade. Conduits for magic, perhaps?
The sword sliced through the air. It moved a little too easily, as if it was lighter than it was. 438 base damage, 420 penetration. A straight upgrade from his falchion, even with no other benefits.
He picked up the staff and examined it. It really was as tall as him. 313 damage, 653 penetration. Not that he could use it effectively one-handed as a weapon. Or two-handed, for that matter. Not that it really mattered—its main purpose had to relate to magic, even if it was a decent weapon for an eight-foot-tall orc.
Ted took them both, nodded to the sergeant, and headed back down to the portal lobby with a bounce in his step. There was testing to be done.
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He started with a simple, one-handed Light Orb spell using the staff as a conduit. Casting it was easier than ever, and the spell felt more powerful to boot. He focused on the Battlemage Staff, probing it for information, and that internal sense told him it made his spells around ten percent more powerful and successful, give or take. Nice.
The sword was next. Unlike a normal sword, he could cast with the hand it was in, though it didn’t buff the spell at all. Still, being able to cast and wield a sword at the same time would make him less vulnerable in melee.
He cast a Fire/Imbue/Ignite spell on the sword and pushed it into Spell Storage, guided by knowledge he’d never learned. The blade lit up, ready to add fire damage to the first hit he made.
What were the limits on what spells he could store in it? The Blast Arrow spell from Jeremy had chained a spherical Area form onto the Imbue. Rather than triggering the Blast directly, it delivered the Area aspect which carried the Blast. Could he do something similar?
Ted buffed himself with Absorb and assembled the Fire, Projectile, and Ignite aspects into a low potency spell. Using Blast Arrow as a reference, he attached that spell to an Imbue effect.
His heart pounded in his chest. If this worked…
He drew on his mana and cast the spell on the staff. The glass-like orb at the top glowed a dim red, and his sword extinguished. No explosions, that was good, although a little disappointing the spell limit wasn’t per weapon.
Now the question was, how to get the spell back out?
After a few minutes of experimentation, the right mental prodding of the staff’s magic unleashed the spell. The firebolt flew out of the staff and hit the ceiling.
He tested it several more times, slowly getting the hang of aiming it. So long as he pointed the rather unwieldy staff in vaguely the right direction, he could fine-tune the aim via mental focus. With the sword, though, he had to point it exactly where he wanted the blast to go.
Very useful. All in all, Spell Storage seemed the way to go. He put the perk point into Spell Keeper and loaded the staff up with high potency imbued versions of both Firebolt and Stunbolt. Since the spells were cast outside combat, he could use a full five second cast time for maximum potency and still unleash it in an instance, even at a sprint.
The weapons and the Specialization were even better than he’d hoped. Whatever the day held, he was ready.
The void tugged at his chest, and a scowl took over his face. Ready for anything but this.
He clenched his jaw. Answers. Today, he was damned well getting answers.
On the way to the main gate, he stopped off at the blacksmiths. They gave him a warm but hurried greeting and provided the metal he needed. One Transform spell later, and his oversized-yet-still-light sword had a scabbard.
He stored the falchion in his pack. It was always worth having a spare weapon. Besides, given the scarcity of good metal in the Forest, the wood elves would probably like it back.
When he arrived where the main gate had used to be, he found a hub of commotion and construction. The new gatehouse was well underway, and it looked even studier than before, thought it certainly wasn’t winning any awards for beauty.
Many of the mages, craftsmen, and laborers working upon it went about their work sluggishly, their faces weary and their eyes dim. They must have worked right through the night, desperate to regain some measure of safety for the town.
Ted searched for Luther, but couldn’t find him. Nor Zelig, for that matter, or any of the mages besides Idonia. Where were they?
Probably getting some well-earned rest. An exhausted mage was a danger, not just to themselves, but to everyone around them.
One of the dwarves atop the wall shouted down in Dwarvish. Every dwarf other than Idonia froze. She chiseled a few more times before stopping.
Silence fell.
No, not quite silence.
An icy chill shivered down Ted’s spine. Those were drums in the distance. The kind of drums that might announce the arrival of an important dignitary.
The sentry shouted again, and activity resumed with newfound haste.
Ted bounded up to the top of the wall, his chest tight, and his mouth went dry. Looking out across the cavern, he saw the banners first.
Divine Empire banners. They were here.
He was here.
Columns of soldiers marched out of the tunnels, flying those banners like they were something to be proud of. As they drew close to the town, the front column split and formed up into two blocks.
Ted cast Farsight to get a better look. The soldiers in the left block were human, while those on the right were tall and fair-skinned, with pointy ears. They had to be so-called “high” elves.
The blocks were each twelve wide and deep, with shields and spears at the front and archers toward the back. Behind them came a column of orcs and dwarves. They split left and right, forming their own squares behind the first.
Ted’s heart leaped into his throat and clung there. The Emperor was here.
He relayed everything he could see to the scout for them to pass along to the current communication hub.
What the hell was he going to say?
He bit his lip. Fourteen years of heartache, and for what?
What if there was a perfectly good explanation, after all?
What if there wasn’t?
He swallowed hard and clenched his trembling jaw shut. He’d know soon enough.
The last of the orcs and dwarves marched out of the tunnel. A male figure followed behind them, shrouded in the tunnel’s darkness and flanked by three female soldiers on each side, one of each race of the Empire.
The male figure was human, or maybe an elf. He was tall, well-built, and walked with a swagger.
Ted’s breath caught. His whole body clenched up. Was that—?
The figure stepped out into the light.
Ostentatious robes of white and gold.
A glimmering crown.
The Emperor.
Short, dark hair and a strong jaw framed an all-too-familiar face. An icy wave rolled through Ted.
A smirk spread across the Emperor’s face. He turned and stared straight into the Farsight. Hello, son.
Ted recoiled and severed the connection. His breath fled, forcing him to gasp for air that wasn’t there.
A dwarven hand pressed against his lower back. “You okay?” Orlanda asked.
Air slowly returned to his lungs. He brushed away the offending hand and turned toward Orlanda. When had she and Ardic arrived?
Ted breathed deeply and forced himself to nod. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“I got here a few minutes ago.” She looked up at him with a weak smile. “It’ll be okay. You went toe to toe with the Transcendent Destroyer! You’ll get through this.”
Yeah, right. He pulled away and looked back out across the cavern. “I’ll survive.”
Minotaurs and wood elves formed the rearguard. Six squares of troops deployed in formation to protect the Emperor, plus his bodyguards, or whatever the hell they were.
Why in two worlds did the System think he needed saving?
Orlanda shuffled closer again. “Thank you for teaching me last night.”
An expectant void of silence grew between them. Ted refused to fill it.
Blood boiled in his veins. Fourteen years away, and the bastard had the gall to call him “son”. Did he think he could just show up now and everything would be fine?
The formation advanced, each block moving at the same speed but with its own rhythm. If his—
If the Emperor could be persuaded to aid the wood elves, this alone would be a powerful army.
“I’m sorry,” Orlanda said, “about blowing up on you.”
Ted snorted. “Figuratively, or literally?”
Her cheeks reddened, and she turned away. “Both.”
“That’s what the Absorbs are for.”
“I guess you’re right.” She scuffed her boots against the floor. “You’re leaving after this, aren’t you?”
“Most likely. I don’t know when I’ll be back. You keep yourself alive until then, you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah, as you keep saying.” She poked him in the side. “That goes for you too, Hero.”
Ardic let out a long sigh and shook his head. “Luther, Ted, Orlanda. You’re with me. Time to meet the Emperor.”
The makeshift gate swung open, and Ardic led them out through it. Luther walked to his right, Ted to his left, and Orlanda behind.
They came to a stop a hundred yards outside the gate and awaited the Emperor.
Ted’s gut twisted into tighter and tighter knots. His father hadn’t died. He’d been here all along. Ted bit down on his lip. His mother had been right the whole time, and he’d never believed her. What the hell was he meant to do with that?
The whole imperial contingent bore on them. Fifty yards out, the soldiers stopped. The human and high elven soldiers turned ninety degrees outwards and marched to the side.
The Emperor sauntered toward them, flanked by his six young female bodyguards. Each was clad in “armor” that barely covered anything, and were armed with nothing more than daggers.
Discomfort twisted in Ted’s gut. They hadn’t been selected for their combat prowess, had they?
Ardic went down on one knee and bowed his head. “Greetings, Divine Emperor! I, Lord Tonvalbortdelan, welcome you to—”
The Emperor fired a Telepathy bolt at Ardic, freezing the dwarf mid-sentence. “Son, I am so glad to see you again!”
Ted’s fingernails dug into his palms. “Release him.”
“Him?” The Emperor laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten attached to these things?”
“Release. Him.”
The Emperor waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t tell me I never do anything for you.”
The spell vanished and Ardic stumbled. He pulled himself upright, bowed his head, and remained silent.
Ted stepped forward, his heart pounding against his chest. Where to even begin?
“They’re not real. Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to have believed they were.”
“They’re real AI. Sentient. Sapient. What difference does it make that they aren’t flesh and blood?”
The Emperor shook his head. “Oh, my boy, my dear boy… There is so much that I need to teach you.”
Fire flared in Ted’s chest. “Start by explaining why you didn’t come home.”
“I tried, in the beginning, you know.” His father’s shoulder slumped. “Before Death cured me of all that guilt and fear and shame that held me back.”
Ted clenched his jaw, holding back a tidal wave and willing his wet eyes not to give in. “And then?”
The Emperor pulled himself up straight and shrugged. “Then I realized—come home to what? Life on a treadmill?” He turned away and buried a wince with laughter. “Why would I ever leave a world that met my every whim, for that?”
Raw, bristling emotions stampeded spikes through Ted’s chest, battling it out for the honor of drowning him. “I needed you!”
“You can’t blame me for that, Edwin.”
Ted’s fists balled up. “Ted.”
“What?”
“My name is Ted.”
The Emperor sneered and shook his head. “I know my own son’s name. You’re named Edwin after my father, and his grandfather before him.”
Fire roared in Ted’s chest. Whatever. There were more important things at stake. He pushed croaky words past the lump in his throat. “The wood elves need help.”
“You still don’t get it. That’s okay, you will. Come. We’ll return to the capital. You’ll be the crown prince. Anything you want, you’ll get.”
Anything I want… Ted swallowed hard. Reunited with his father, and an entire empire serving up whatever he wished? Twisted temptation fluttered and died in his chest. “No.”
“No?” The Emperor’s eyes widened. “I am your emperor and your father. That was not a request.”
Ted’s heart pounded, demanding that he shut up and stand down. Not this time. “I have a job to do, and I’m not abandoning these people.”
“They aren’t people, Edwin!” The Emperor rolled back his head and sighed. “The system gave you that stupid quest to save the world, didn’t it?”
Not exactly. Ted nodded, not trusting his voice to answer.
“It’ll be centuries before this place breaks down completely. So what if it does? That’s more than enough time for us to have our fill.”
Ted bit his lip. “It’s already breaking down. That’s why the dungeon spawn are attacking, isn’t it?”
“The dungeon spawn are no threat to me or the capital. Come.” The Emperor smirked and glanced at his entourage of young women. “You’ll find life can be more pleasurable than you ever imagined.”
Ted’s stomach churned. “What the hell did Death do to you?”
“He freed me. The powerful rule the powerless. You’ll understand with time that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“No,” Ted said, stepping backward and shaking his head. “No, I’ll never understand that.”
The Emperor advanced, moving closer. “That is how this world, how every world, always has and always will be.”
“This is wrong, Dad. This isn’t you! This isn’t how things are meant to be.”
“Right and wrong are meaningless words spoken by the weak. It’s time for you to grow up, son.” He turned his gaze on Orlanda and a twisted smile spread across his lips. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? She yours?”
“What?” Ted’s nose wrinkled. “No!”
“Well, then…” He pulled her toward him with Force magic. “You won’t mind if I have a play.”