Aodhán sat within the fort’s meeting room, still shuddering from the memory of the Changeling’s brutal death. To say he had been disgusted was an understatement. No, the sight had traumatized him so thoroughly that Aodhán didn’t ever think he could recover.
He had seen death before, but none so revolting and wicked as the one Artemis had subjected the changeling to, tearing her in half and throwing her to the soldiers to hack to pieces. The complete disregard for death that the soldiers and the other champions had displayed only served to make it worse, and just like that, Aodhán was reminded about the darker side of war.
War was glorious and exhilarating as long as one remained on the winning side, but that thrill faded quickly when faced with the horrors and cost of defeat.
Tyrus sat by his side, seemingly unsure of how to deal with Aodhán’s reaction, but after a few minutes of silence, he asked. “Isn’t it better to have seen it from above rather than below?”
Aodhán imagined the latter and shuddered when he realized he most likely would have been splattered with blood and viscera had he been watching from below. Bile rose in his throat, and Tyrus hastily fetched a bowl for him to puke in.
While Aodhán heaved his guts out, Tyrus patted him awkwardly on the back and said, “You act so mature and confident that it’s so easy to forget that you’re just a child.”
“I am a child.” Aodhán thought to himself and was just about to nod in agreement when he realized that Tyrus’s statement wasn’t exactly a compliment. He heaved the last of his stomach contents and pushed the bowl away. “I’m sorry, I’m acting childish.”
Tyrus shrugged. “It’s alright; you haven’t seen death before.”
“But I have.” Aodhán swallowed painfully as visions of the Raventhorn accident flashed across his mind. “I have seen death before, just not like this.”
Tyrus smiled. “Well, good for you that you’ve managed to keep your innocence in spite of all that is happening. Some of us aren’t so lucky”.
Tyrus’s words weren’t meant to be malicious, but Aodhán sensed a hint of resentment in his tone. With a sigh, he wiped his lips and pushed down his revulsion. As natural as his reaction was, perhaps it would be better to postpone his mental breakdown until he returned to the academy.
Aodhán took a moment to compose himself, sinking his mind into the effects of {Eye of the Storm}, and a few seconds later, his mind settled. He turned to look at Tyrus and asked. “So, what will happen now?”
Tyrus shrugged. “I have no idea. The generals are in a meeting with Supreme General Daystar right now, along with a ton of champions from different sectors. Whatever plan they come up with, though, I doubt it’ll be small. There haven’t been any big battles since the battle for Conquestia, and I know I shouldn’t wish for one, but…
“But what?”
Tyrus shook his head and let out a shaky smile. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever plans the generals come up with, I’m sure it’ll be in our best interest. Sunstone won’t take this lying down, though. Honor is so very important to them, and let’s just say the Changeling’s death was intentionally dishonorable.”
“Intentionally?” Aodhán asked in confusion, and Tyrus chuckled.
“Of course. Do you think Artemis killed the changeling on a whim?”
“I... I see. So, we should expect Sunstone’s retaliation then?”
“Certainly.” Tyrus scowled. “But then I’m sure we’ll be ready, whatever they do.”
Aodhán frowned. “Do... do you ever think the war is being treated like a game?”
“Does it matter?” Tyrus asked instead and banished the puke bowl to oblivion with a quick explosion of red flames.
“It matters to me. I mean, what is the reason for this war? Why are we fighting?”
Tyrus sighed and massaged his temples before responding. “I don’t know the real reason for the war, but I know there’s one or even multiple. I doubt many people know the real reason, but before my father died, he told me something. He said Sunstone had their honor and Ragnarok, our pride.” His gaze grew distant for a moment before he shrugged. “It made me wonder if we were truly enemies, but that doesn’t matter much to me anymore, not after all the people I’ve lost.”
“I’m sorry.” Aodhán replied and leaned back in his chair, filing that tidbit of information in his mind for later. After nearly a minute of terse silence, Aodhán asked. “Do you think the champions know why?”
“I believe they do.” Tyrus nodded. “As well as all the colonels, majors, and generals. Even if they don’t know the whole thing, I’m certain they know more than we do.”
Aodhán smiled. “Then I guess it’s only a matter of time before you find out, Captain. I’m sure there’s a binding oath involved, but I’ll believe more in the war if you can assure me it’s for a good reason.”
Tyrus snorted. “You and Sergeant Boyd won’t be too disappointed.”
They lapsed into a contemplative silence after that, and Aodhán closed his eyes to process Tyrus’s words. They stayed that way for a while, each one lost in his own thought as they waited for the champions to return.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait too long, as half an hour later, Artemis teleported into the meeting room along with nearly two dozen other champions, including Geneva, Zero, Matharantha, Ali Hassani, and Uduak Goradon. They were the most popular champions at the moment, courtesy of the plague wraith battle, but there were still a few others Aodhán recognized either from books, the news, or hearsay.
The first was Reiner Rivaldi, the steam awakened from sector 3 that Valerie Potts had cited as an example of an awakened whose Affinity had come as a result of the merge of two different affinities. The man was dressed neck to toe in a fog-like outfit that seemed almost see-through yet exposed nothing. What little of his skin was exposed around his eyes displayed a rugged, nearly industrial look, and his bronze skin was riddled with faint, copper-like veins that pulsed with warmth. His hair had a perpetual dampness, like it was infused with vapor, and thin wisps of steam escaped his skin with each breath.
The man instilled a sense of awe within Aodhán, but it was nothing compared to the feeling Thalia Lightus—the granddaughter of Ascendant candidate Lightus—invoked. Aodhán had naturally read about Thalia during his research to understand Ascendant candidate Lightus better, and the fact that she was now standing only a few feet away from him threatened to send Aodhán into a fanboy spiral.
Unlike her father, Thalia had a cosmic affinity, and her dark skin gave off an otherworldly glow that stood out even in the brightness of day. Tiny motes of light seemed to drift around her, and her irises were double-ringed pools of deep indigo carrying specks of starlight. Her bloodline manifestation wasn’t as severe as that of Rivaldi, but it invoked a greater sense of awe in Aodhán, and he quickly bowed in greeting.
The champions acknowledged his greeting with curious expressions, having most likely been briefed on his contribution to catching the changeling. A few of them nodded in return, including Thalia, who seemed even more curious than the others.
Artemis, on the other hand, eyed him and asked. “Are you still throwing up?”
“Oh, leave the kid alone.” One of the champions spoke up with a sly smile and looked at Aodhán with an expression of respect. “I think any sane person would puke after such a horrid display of military violence.”
“I don’t think I agree, Cyridian.” Artemis replied pompously. “I didn’t puke when I witnessed my first horrible death.”
“Well, of course, Artemis. You’re certainly the picture of sanity.” Geneva scowled, and Aodhán had to suppress a chuckle. The other champions didn’t bother to do the same, and Artemis scowled.
“Very funny, Geneva. Very funny.”
When the laughter died down, Geneva turned her gaze to him and asked. “I hope you’re doing better, Aodhán.”
“I…Yes, I’ve gotten my revulsion under control.”
“Good,” Artemis interjected. “Because I do not have the time to babysit you, nor do I have enough money to get you a certified counselor. Those people are expensive, and Zero has once again beggared me.”
Zero smiled as he moved to take a seat. “I don’t remember forcing you to invest all of your money into one game, Artemis.”
Reiner, who had been silent ever since they arrived, chuckled and shook his head. “Serves you right for trusting Zero and gambling all your money away.”
Zero laughed. “Now, don’t blame me for his failures. I advised him not to bet against me.”
“Because you knew I would do the exact opposite!” Artemis glared at Zero, but before things could get out of hand, Thalia coughed, and in a soft, yet commanding tone, she said, “I believe we have a meeting to start.”
The champions calmed down almost immediately, and like scolded children, they all moved to take their seats. Aodhán exchanged a surprised glance with Tyrus when he saw Artemis quiet down, and in a bid to satisfy his curiosity, he focused his evolved core sense on her core.
After the recent advancement of core sense, Aodhán’s ability to sense people’s cores had increased drastically. He still couldn’t sense mythic cores yet, but he certainly didn’t need to try so hard to sense that of peak advanced class individuals. However, when he focused on Thalia’s core, Aodhán found that he couldn’t sense anything except for her tier of advancement. Not even a hint of her spiritual cultivation was detectable, leaving Aodhán with only one way to measure her strength—the blazing intensity of her core.
And by Ascendants, the core blazed!
It blazed with such intensity that Aodhán felt his senses burn. He pulled back immediately, blinking away tears as he came to terms with what he had just seen. Thalia Lightus was at the 99th tier of advancement, and Aodhán would be shocked if she couldn’t single-handedly take on an early-staged mythic and win.
While the champions gathered for their meeting, Tyrus nudged Aodhán and asked. “How would you like a tour of the camp?”
Aodhán wanted to stay, but he knew that wasn’t proper. The champions had accorded him a courtesy by not sending him away; he would be doing himself a disservice if he didn’t show them that he wasn’t an idiot, regardless of how curious he was.
He nodded, and together, he and Tyrus slipped out of the meeting room; however, as Aodhán turned to shut the door behind him, he found Thalia’s gaze on him once more, her head cocked in curiosity and fascination. She didn’t say anything when their gazes locked. She just smiled and turned back to the other champions without fuss.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Needless to say, Aodhán was curious to know what she thought of him. Her grandfather was his benefactor after all, and since he hadn’t had a single conversation with the man, perhaps he could gain some insights into what ascendant candidate Lightus had seen in him from her.
They stepped out of the fort a moment later, and Tyrus let out a breath of relief. “So many champions in one place makes me nervous.”
“Me too.” Aodhán admitted, but Tyrus wasn’t convinced.
“You didn’t seem so nervous when you were gawking at The Celestial a few minutes ago.”
The celestial was Thalia’s code name, but the champions of Ragnarok rarely used their codenames and usually just went by their usual names.
“I wasn’t gawking.” Aodhán hissed, certain that Thalia could still hear them. “I was just surprised to see her with her grandfather, being my benefactor and all.”
“Oh, I didn’t even remember that,” Tyrus frowned but quickly shook his head. “Anyway, where would you like to see first, the Sigma 15-25 camp, the Sigma 26-50 camp, or the Sigma 51-75 camp?”
“What about the Sigma 76-99 camp?” Aodhán asked, and Tyrus’s eyes widened.
“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
Aodhán laughed and shook his head. “No, no. I was just curious. We can start with the Sigma 15-25 camp first and maybe check out the other two if we have the time.”
Tyrus nodded, and together, they made their way out of the fort and towards the Sigma 15-25 camp, whose copper-colored gate stood out like a beacon in a sea of gray tents.
The camp wasn’t too far from the fort, and five minutes later, Aodhán and Tyrus stepped into the camp proper. With a small smile, Aodhán breathed in the scent of roasted meat, alcohol, and metal polish, all intertwined with the sense of excitement that filled the air.
It had been two hours since the changeling’s death, and the soldiers were still rejoicing. They hustled about laughing and carrying out their duties with a fervor that had been lacking only a few hours ago. When they noticed Aodhán, they cheered, whistling and applauding in appreciation, some even going as far as patting him on the back or simply shouting his name in excitement. Aodhán smiled, infected by their enthusiasm, and before long, he found himself laughing and carrying on with them.
Tyrus led him past rows and rows of gray tents, weaving past an army of saluting soldiers as they made their way deeper into the Sigma15-25 camp where the teleportation circle and healing tents were located.
The tent spanned several acres, with military nurses moving about within. Just opposite it was the teleportation circle, a large runic platform large enough to fit a dozen men standing side by side. Aside from that, there was very little architecture to gawk at, so Aodhán took in the ambience instead, watching soldiers as they lovingly polished their armors and weapons.
Music blasted from one corner of the camp, so loud that the earth vibrated; however, even with all the excitement and distractions, Aodhán noticed a few soldiers standing rigidly at several intersections within the camp. He didn’t need any explanation to recognize them as the guards on duty, each one of them holding their weapons tightly.
The guards saluted and smiled when Aodhán and Tyrus passed by them, but aside from that, they kept their minds on that task. Aodhán scrutinized them for a moment before asking. “Should music be playing this loud? I thought military camps were usually about order and obedience.”
Tyrus laughed. “You are right. The camps are about order and obedience, but the soldiers have been tense for weeks; it wouldn’t hurt to let them have some fun. Also, military camps are about so much more than order. They are about camaraderie, family, love, whores…
Aodhán shook his head and chuckled as a bunch of Tier 16 soldiers passed by them, clumsily saluting when they saw Tyrus’s badge. Tyrus waved for them to carry on and snorted. “Those are the newest batch of soldiers. They arrived about a month ago and have been placed in my company.” He sighed and shook his head. “Hopefully, we can whip them into shape before the next great battle begins.”
Aodhán nodded and turned to look back at the privates, wondering if he would recognize any one of them. He didn’t, but that didn’t stop him from searching and scrutinizing the other soldiers they came across, hoping to find someone he knew from the Warren.
As they made their way deeper into the camp, Tyrus pointed out several tents, from officer tents to storage rooms and finally the command tent, which was a gigantic tent located only a slight distance away from the center of the camp.
Aodhán took all of this in with a smile; however, as they moved deeper into the camp, he soon noticed a common feature amongst the soldiers—the limit.
It was less common among the younger soldiers but was almost predominant in the higher tier bracket of the camp.
Most of the soldiers between tier 20 and 24 had reached their limit, and the ones who hadn't were well on their way towards that unfortunate fate. There were a few soldiers with reasonably pure cores, though, and even some others with cores purer than his, but they were a minority.
It was sad. There was so much these soldiers could gain or avoid by learning the truth about the limit, but Aodhán had learned the hard way that the truth was being kept for a reason even if he didn’t support said reason. In his opinion, knowledge should be freely shared and spread, but unfortunately, he wasn’t at liberty to do so.
As they progressed towards the Sigma 26-50 camp, though, Aodhán noticed that the number of limited soldiers was dropping significantly. It seemed the military was trying to manipulate the distribution and absorption of cores without expressly breaking the oath. Seeing the improvement made Aodhán happy, and the tension soon bled from his shoulders.
Tyrus led him past a large training area, and Aodhán couldn’t help but admire the sheer discipline and dedication of these soldiers. They were restless, even while celebrating. They trained and sparred with each other, sometimes one-on-one and other times in groups.
A captain monitored them, and when the bulky man saw Tyrus, he asked the soldiers to take a minute and jogged towards them. The man had pale, almost translucent skin, and beneath his skin was a web of iridescent veins that shifted color as they refracted light. It was a very bizarre bloodline manifestation, and while Tyrus chatted with the captain who was called Theron Scraz, Aodhán focused on his core.
The man’s affinity was one Aodhán hadn’t come across or heard about before, and although it seemed very similar to light, it gave off an impression very similar to glass too. It reminded Aodhán of Reiner Rivaldi’s affinity, and he wondered if perhaps the Captain’s affinity was also as a result of an experiment gone wrong.
The fact the man was noble seemed to lend some credit to the idea, but Aodhán couldn’t be sure. He spent the next few seconds scrutinizing the man’s core and studying its signature, but in the end the only concept that perfectly encapsulated the man’s affinity in Aodhán’s opinion was a prism, as it seemed closely connected to fractured light, spatial refraction, and dimensional echoes.
Aodhán decided to find out more about it when he reached the academy, and when Tyrus finished his discussion with Captain Theron, they made their way to the captain's quarters. Unsurprisingly, the captains had a special area dedicated to themselves, and as soon as they stepped through the demarcated wall, Aodhán was bombarded with another round of cheers.
Tyrus introduced him to the other captains, and Aodhán was pleasantly surprised to see nearly two dozen captains present. They were all at the 25th tier, yet within this small group, there were distinctions made according to status.
From Tyrus’s brief explanation, the Advanced class captains had the largest companies; the evolved captains, who had, for one reason or another, not evolved to the Advanced class before crossing the second milestone, had medium-sized companies; and then the last strata, mundane class captains like Tyrus, got the smallest companies.
The strata really put into perspective the number of soldiers within the Sigma 15-25 camp of Conquestia, as the smallest company, according to Tyrus, consisted of 100 soldiers, and that was saying a lot since out of the dozen captains present, there were only four Mundane captains, including Tyrus himself.
Aodhán wanted to ask how many soldiers the largest company consisted of, but soon decided that was a question for a later time. He introduced himself to the captains, saluting respectfully to each person as they thanked him for his contribution to eradicating the changeling problem.
After that, a trio of captains asked him and Tyrus to join them in their courtyard to celebrate the return of peace to the camp. Not wanting to be impolite, Tyrus and Aodhán agreed and soon found themselves seated around a pit of fire, eating roasted meat and drinking merrily.
One of the captains, a raven-haired woman, moved to hug Aodhán and said, “Oh, you have no idea how happy I am to go back to sleeping with just one eye open. The last six weeks have been torture.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Aodhán laughed and hugged her back.
Tyrus rolled his eyes dramatically. “Meet Captain Maxine Lesternoff, Captain of the Third Company and leader of the patrol squad.”
“I can introduce myself, Hadjen, thank you very much.” Captain Lesternoff smacked Tyrus’s hands and pulled back to shake Aodhán formally. “I am Maxine Lesternoff, Captain of the third company and leader of the patrol squad in the Sigma 15-25 camp area.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” Tyrus grumbled, but Aodhán ignored him and smiled.
“It’s very nice to meet the protectors of our kingdom. We owe you all our lives.”
“That I can agree to.” Another captain, a bald man with faint purple scars running down the length of his jaw, replied and downed another cup of beer. “But we’re happy to serve and protect. That’s all that matters.”
“Speak for yourself, Griffid.” Captain Lesternoff snorted. “I have a husband waiting for me back in sector 4.”
They all laughed, and just as Aodhán’s first drink finished, they passed him another, along with another portion of roasted meat. Aodhán accepted the second helping, only now realizing that he hadn’t eaten anything of substance in the last forty-eight hours.
The merry mood continued, and Aodhán soon found himself laughing and joking around with the captains. They were all so nice, sharing tips and advising him on what was best to do when he eventually joined the army.
Aodhán found that he wasn’t too averse to the idea any longer; in fact, he felt almost eager. Their discussion lasted for nearly an hour until Captain Griffid belched and rubbed his belly. “Now, that’s a good meal.”
“First in six weeks too.” Maxine concurred. “I’m so happy that changeling bitch is finally dead and we can all move on to the next calamitous event.”
The captains groaned, and the third captain, Nolan Riverstrong, scolded. “Do not speak evil, Maxine. For once, can we not have peace? It seems you want to go back to patrol duty.”
“Heavens no.” Maxine groaned. “That job was tedious. Any more of it, and I would have certainly offed myself from frustration.” She smirked and gave Aodhán a side eye. “I’m a little pissed at this gentleman, though; you just came and solved a problem we’ve been dealing with for weeks!”
“Now, don’t scold the kid.” Captain Griffid laughed. “Let’s just be grateful that we can finally have a good night's rest without feeling the press of death around our necks for a change.”
“Here, here.” Everyone laughed, and Captain Nolan launched into a story of how several soldiers had been caught shivering in fear sometime in the past six weeks, including Maxine herself.
Aodhán listened as the captains bantered, and it wasn’t until the sun dipped below the horizon that he remembered he needed to return to the academy soon.
He said his goodbyes to the captains, and although he hadn’t had the chance to visit the second and third Sigma camps, he felt quite satisfied with this one.
With his belly completely filled with meat, Aodhán and Tyrus returned to Fort Dominion. They arrived at the meeting room a few minutes later, but by then, nearly all the champions had departed, most likely returning to their different sectors. Ali Hassani and Uduak Goradon had also left, leaving Artemis, Zero, Matharantha, and Geneva alone in the fort.
“Are you ready to return?” Geneva asked, and Aodhán nodded.
“Yes, I’m still a student after all.”
Geneva smiled and pulled out an old, worn-looking notebook from her storage ring. “I heard that you’re a big fan of runes, and I’d like to encourage that. This is my old practice note. I’m sure you’ll benefit greatly from studying it.”
Aodhán collected the notebook reverently and opened it to find a ton of perfected runes and runic circuits inscribed on the worn pages. The runes were vastly different from normal, though, containing a lesser number of lines, yet managing to look even more complex.
Aodhán clutched the book gently and bowed in gratitude. “Thank you for this gift. I promise to use it well.”
“I’m sure you will.” Geneva chuckled. “Now come, we have something else for you.”
“We don’t.” Artemis scowled, but Zero scowled at him and said, “You lost the bet, Artemis; now hand over the ore.”
Artemis glared daggers at all of them before reluctantly opening his palms to reveal a shimmering white-gold gemstone that seemed almost like a mixture of liquid and glass.
“You see, we had a bet before you arrived on if you would be powerful enough to catch the changeling.” Geneva smiled and plucked the ore from Artemis’s open palms. “Artemis was the only one who bet against you.”
Aodhán let out a confused chuckle. “Why didn’t you guys bet against me?”
“I don’t bet.” Matharantha rasped, smiling for the first time since he’d seen her.
“And Zero and I cheated.” Geneva smiled. “Never mind how.”
“So you guys admit to cheating.” Artemis shook in righteous fury. “How did you do it?”
Geneva ignored him and handed the ore to Aodhán. “We are impressed with you, and so we decided to give you this gift as an act of goodwill.”
“You are sowing karma.” Aodhán responded, understanding exactly what they were doing, and Zero laughed.
“At least you’re smarter than Artemis.”
Artemis scowled, but before he could respond, Geneva spoke. “We are aware of your fine to the council, so we can’t give you something monetary. This, however, is more than a monetary gift.”
“What is it?” Aodhán asked as he peered closely at the shifting gem that also looked like a metal ore.
“Voltaris,” Artemis hesitantly explained. “It’s an alchemical ingredient used in the production of storm and lightning pills. I believe you will find it very useful. If not, you can sell—"
“You cannot sell it!” Geneva interjected with a glare in Artemis’s direction, and his scowl deepened.
“Fine! Do with it what you like. You have no karma with me.
Aodhán placed the ore within his spatial storage and nodded gratefully. “Thank you so much for the gifts; I really do appreciate them.”
“You’re welcome.” Geneva responded, and after collecting hers and Zero’s contact information, Aodhán thanked Captain Tyrus for the tour and for being a good friend before turning his attention back to Artemis.
“I’m ready to go back.”
Artemis muttered something under his breath in annoyance, shot Geneva a glare, and the next instant, Aodhán was flung into a swirling portal so violently that all the meat he’d eaten nearly erupted out of his stomach with a violent heave.