ANTICIPATIONS
Within a dense forest, a party of five adventurers carefully ambled through obstructive roots and bushes that were partially hidden in the snow. Despite the moonsun at the peak of its sun phase, its rays of light struggled to pierce through the thickness of leaves and branches.
The party of five needed the light not. Leading the pack was a middle-aged brawn and musclebound gent armored in enchanted leather with slabs of iron guards around his shoulders, elbows, knees, and chest. He held the Warrior and Brawler classes and carried no weapons as he relied on his fists and pugilist bracers to destroy his enemies. His eyes glowed a soft hue—Lesser Night Vision—allowing him to lead the way unhindered.
Following close behind the Brawler was a Sword Master. He was donned in enchanted plated armor and armed with two short swords on his back. Slightly trailing at the back was a Rogue and a Ranger. The Rogue wore thick padded leather armor and held an enchanted dagger in one hand while his other hand was donned in a metal claw. His eyes glowed with Basic Night Vision, and his Lesser En Hearing picked up the faint sounds of the woods.
The Ranger, several paces behind, kept in step with the Rogue with his bow in hand and his eyes darting around. His pupils would shrink and enlarge as he scanned for dangers with the use of his Lesser Eagle Eye skill.
BRAWLER
Are we still on track?
The Brawler was asking the Ranger.
RANGER
Yea,
He responded as he sniffed the air, catching a whiff of blood with his Petty En Scent Detection.
RANGER
Blood, kinans, and some foul beasts.
The Brawler nodded as the gent centered in the middle began to chant,
CHANTER
I beg upon my great God of War Ogun, bring us power and might, let us be strong in the face of fear—I beg for conviction!
And an aura of mana surrounded all five of them—granting them increased stamina and strength.
CHANTER
Try not to get hurt this time.
He ordered, his glare on the back of the Sword Master.
CHANTER
I'm a Chanter, not a Cleric.
BRAWLER
Okay—okay—ya keep saying that, we get it. Ya still have auras, though.
CHANTER
You know my healing auras are shit because I pray to Ogun. Besides, I can't use them in the midst of combat.
SWORD MASTER
You can say that again.
He commented under his breath.
CHANTER
What was that?
ROGUE
Can ya'll be quiet?
The Rogue hissed.
ROGUE
I can't hear.
SWORD MASTER
Ha, I can't believe the newbie is telling us to shut it.
BRAWLER
But he's right. We should shut up and let him do his job.
They obtained silence as they continued until they finally approached disturbed lands—broken branches, blood, damaged trees, and rough soil. They slowed their pace and began communicating through nods and affirmative glances. As they had done this dozens of times before, they fanned out, and the Brawler took the lead.
The Ranger took to the trees, Leaping carefully onto the wet branches with ease, and peered ahead, doing his darndest to spot any danger. He Leaped ahead—his eyes darted at something as he landed on another branch. He readied his bow and fired an arrow at the Brawler.
The arrow sang through the air and turned sharply around the Brawler and hovered to his front—seemingly pointing at a dense black sheet of spiderweb over a bush. The Brawler turned and nodded toward the Ranger, and the arrow fell to the ground.
The Ranger informed the rest of his party in the same manner, clueing them on what they were up against. He then Leaped far ahead, avoiding the impeding sheets of web and snow.
He suddenly stopped at the edge of a nesting—a tight clearing of black silk mounds. Above him was a sheet of incomplete black webbing meant to completely blot out the sun.
Crawling around the clearing were three broods, their senses alerted by the Ranger's scent. The Ranger watched them and slowly readied his bow.
RANGER
Any moment now.
The Ranger whispered to himself.
His bow and arrow were fully drawn, and his muscles bulged with anticipation. The three broods activated their Basic Night Vision and quickly spotted the Ranger. They screeched out in alert as the Brawler charged the clearing and pummeled the closest brood with his fist.
The Ranger let loose his arrow with a glint of Willpower, and the golden missile ripped through the second brood. The third brood rushed the Brawler, but the Sword Master intercepted and swung at the spider—but it guarded it with its own Willpower.
SWORD MASTER
Dammit!
He cursed, and to add to his dismay, a dozen more broods stormed into the clearing. The Ranger readied three arrows and fired. The Rogue utilized his Basic Quickstep and technique—
ROGUE
Thunder Claw!
And like a bolt of golden lightning, he zipped through the clearing, ripping apart a brood and reentering the shadows surrounding the clearing. He turned and continued zipping in and out of the clearing using his technique.
More broods stormed the clearing—
SWORD MASTER
Fucking aye!
He cursed as he ripped through three broods with a flurry of speed.
SWORD MASTER
How many did she make!?
BRAWLER
Who knows,
He retorted and stomped a brood into the ground.
BRAWLER
But it is time to get serious!
And he let out an air-thumping roar that shook the air with a golden gust— Basic Taunt, allowing him to force weak-willed creatures to hate him or flee. But because these broods were bloodlust creatures, they all converged on him.
The Brawler's Great En Body and Basic Pain Resistance allowed him to endure the bites and gnawing of the broods as he and his party turned the tides. The Chanter blessed the Brawler with Poison Resistance, shielding him from the poisonous effects.
ROGUE
Thunder Claw!
He shouted and ripped through the remaining two broods.
The five of them took a breath, their eyes searching the clearing for more broods. The Ranger glanced ahead as the Rogue picked up the sound of branches being torn apart.
RANGER & ROGUE
Here she comes! | She's coming!
Crashing into the clearing, a broodmother soared through the air. It collided with the Brawler's parrying punch and somersaulted to its feet. It was a naked dual-sex feminine creature with two pairs of breasts, carapaces over its arms, legs, and stomach, red and purple skin, and six sharp spider-like limbs protruding from its back.
The Sword Master dashed in with a swing, slicing partially into her hard abdomen as she attempted to evade.
ROGUE
Thunder Claw!
He shouted with exhaust in his voice, but he ripped through three of her back limbs—she was quick, dodging at the last second. She then leaped out of the way of three destructive arrows that ripped into the ground on impact.
Mid-air now—she was unable to avoid—
BRAWLER
Deacon's Smash!
The Brawler had leaped along with her when she avoided the arrows—he brought his fist down on her—enhanced by a golden aura in the form of a giant golden fist. The devastating blow cratered the brood into the ground. The Brawler refused to let up and Skywalked off the air, diving toward her.
One of her back limbs whipped out a string of black web and pulled her out of the way of the Brawler's collision. The broodmother rolled to her feet and unhinged her angular jaw to let out a deafening scream. Along with her scream, thick auras whipped across the clearing— Lesser Alluring Aura, Lesser Chill Aura, and Lesser Fear Aura.
All four adventurers immediately embraced themselves in Willpower. The Chanter clasped his hands together and protected himself in a dense bubble of mana.
CHANTER
That was too close.
He mumbled.
The adventurers were frozen as they were unable to move while focusing on protecting themselves. But the Sword Master dug deep and pushed through the numbness. He readied his swords with a firm grip—
SWORD MASTER
Swallow Dance!
He shouted, swinging his blades and firing off three golden crescent blades. The broodmother, vainly screaming, failed to react as the golden blades sliced through her body. Her body was torn apart and fell to the snow in a mixture of red and green blood.
The wind blew, and a bitter chill followed its breeze throughout the clearance. Each member of the party breathed softly as they waited for any hidden enemies to reveal themselves. Their eyes glanced around in all directions, wondering where their next foe would appear.
The Brawler took a deep breath,
BRAWLER
It should be clear for now, but stay alert.
And one by one, they unfroze from their spots.
BRAWLER
Check the webbed mounds.
He ordered as the Sword Master had already sliced into one. All eyes fell on him as his face scrunched up in disgust.
SWORD MASTER
It's them.
BRAWLER
Fucking aye,
He cursed softly as he approached the mound.
BRAWLER
Always late.
The Brawler took a good look into the mound and inside was a partially naked gent in a pool of green puss. His body was nearly beyond recognition, and his clothing was decaying. Green puss and blood clotted his eyes and mouth, a hole—as if something dug out from within—parted his stomach, and parts of his arms and legs were nibbled away to the bone.
ROGUE
It's them alright.
He confirmed at another sliced opened mound, comparing the hapless victims to a picture he held.
RANGER
What quest were they on?
He asked, leaping down from the branches. The Rogue strode over to the edge of the clearing and shuffled some snow away with his feet.
ROGUE
Winter wheat.
He stated, eyeing blue leafy blades of durable winter wheat that grew under the snow.
ROGUE
Though, I noticed winter wheat on our way here.
BRAWLER
Meaning,
The Brawler ripped open the last mound and backed away from the smell.
BRAWLER
These stupid C-rankers caught a whiff of a good fight.
SWORD MASTER
More like a good death.
He spat.
SWORD MASTER
Fucking idiots.
BRAWLER
Well... get ya Scryers out, and let's get out of here.
And as ordered, each of them brought out small hand-held mirrors—Scryers. Placing their fingers into the grooves within the handles, they activated their Scryers to record whatever it reflected. Then, they began to record the faces and corpses of the adventurers.
Once done, they looted unscathed jewelry and sealed gear from the C-Ranker's corpses and harvested the finest carapace and chitin from the dead broods.
Moments later, they were on their way back through the woods.
BRAWLER
So, what do ya say about slaying ya first hivolve?
He asked into the air as he led the party.
SWORD MASTER
First?
He asked and glanced back at the Rogue.
ROGUE
Intense.
The Rogue stated as his Basic En Hearing picked up the sound of a lizard skittering down a tree.
SWORD MASTER
That was ya first?
He pondered softly.
ROGUE
I've only been with ya lot a month.
The Rogue clarified.
ROGUE
And not to be rude, what was this danger about hivolves? That was an easy kill for us.
The Brawler laughed in response as the Sword Master chimed in,
SWORD MASTER
Easy? Ya was sweating back there. Back-to-back techniques could ruin ya.
ROGUE
I'm training my Lesser En Stamina and Basic Quickstep.
BRAWLER
He's going for that Quicksilver class.
The Brawler interjected from the front.
BRAWLER
I swore I already told ya.
SWORD MASTER
Yea, I wasn't listening.
He professed.
SWORD MASTER
But yea, a Quicksilver class, eh? Such an influx of speed can help ya avoid getting hit.
ROGUE
Or help ya get away.
He shrugged.
BRAWLER
But it's not the hivolves on their own that is the danger—well, some are.
He divulged, eyeing a stola—a carnivore fiend resembling a mixed owl and eagle with two pairs of eyes—sitting upon a branch, returning a manacling glare. The Archer sang an arrow into the stola, and it slumped to the snow.
BRAWLER
Take griffins, for example. Hivolved fiends of rocagles. Their presence triggers something called Transcendence.
ROGUE
Transcendence?
He mumbled, attempting to remember anything familiar about the word, but shook his head.
BRAWLER
They can cause ordinary birds to transcend into stolas or rocagles.
He continued, kicking the dead stola aside.
BRAWLER
Though the chances are weak and rare, the effect is still there. And unlike broodmothers, griffins are intelligent and level-headed.
The feeling of eyes prickled down the Brawler's head, and he looked up at a slick rainbow-colored rocagle flying above them.
The roceagle's black and yellow-ringed eyes spotted the adventurers below. She knew it was too early to land and feast off the corpses they left behind. She understood what she was to those two-legged monsters that strolled the forest beneath her. The moment she touched the ground, they would be upon her, so she continued through the sky northeast toward the Earth Kingdom.
Her eyes scanned the enclosed centralized kingdom with several farmlands and villas scattered around it. The kingdom resided inside the base of a mountain with the absence of its peak, revealing the kingdom to the sky. The rocagle's perfect sight saw the six entrances leading into the broken mountain walls, the two levels of the kingdom—the upper level magically floating above the lower—and the keepers that watched the sky for intruders despite the translucent ward that protected the city.
One of the keepers eyed the rocagle, and fear struck her core. She increased her altitude, unable to predict what those two-legged monsters would do to her. But as she fled into the clouds, she took one last look at the kingdom and noticed the monsters below were constantly bustling.
One gent in particular—Rigrund Warsong, rode in the back of a petite taxi carriage across the upper-level roads. Rigrund, a gent with shaggy black hair, violet eyes, and red-and-blue thin lines down his black skin, bounced his leg in anxiety.
He shivered slightly in his dirt brown shawl, which covered his clothes, leaving his ankle-banded black trousers and worn-out brown shoes visible. A rolled parchment was slightly crunched in his grip as his eyes inspected the Symbolists that floated high above the city.
This deep within the kingdom, the walls of the broken mountain walls shaded the light. Along the roads and floating within the sky for the benefit of floating carriages and wagons, Lesser Lighting Crystals brighten the upper levels of the kingdom.
WAGGONER
Hey brotha,
The waggoner addressed Rigrund as they entered Metal Hearth District.
WAGGONER
Mind if ya keep ya legs still?
RIGRUND
Sorry,
He apologized and ceased the bouncing of his leg. His eyes shifted to the affluent brick homes, mansions, and manors on either side of the road.
RIGRUND
I'm—I'm in a rush—a bit—kind of.
WAGGONER
Ahh, why didn't ya say so?
The waggoner bucked the reins, and his horse advanced. Rigrund eyed the smooth metallic dome building in the distance, the Miner's Guild Main Office. Rigrund swallowed as his legs began to bounce briefly.
WAGGONER
Any clue on why ya meeting with the Miner's Guild.
The waggoner prodded. Rigrund briefly eyed the parchment in his hand.
RIGRUND
No clue. I was just summoned.
WAGGONER
Hmm...
It wasn't an unknown story throughout the Earth Kingdom. Being summoned or ordered to meet with the Miner's Guild could end in many different ways. And because of that, not many sought to visit the Miner's Guild as they doubted their luck—if one had no business there, they would never be caught going near it.
RIGRUND
I'm a servant for the Adventurer's Guild.
WAGGONER
I see...
The waggoner mumbled unenthusiastically. Rigrund clenched his jaws and rocked slowly while glancing at the overgrown trees that surrounded the Guild Office.
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WAGGONER
Have ya ever thought about leaving the kingdom?
He suddenly asked.
RIGRUND
Um, no, why?
WAGGONER
Oh, just curious. Never mind.
*****
Meanwhile, sitting behind a carved marble desk designed with golden puries along its edges, Guild Master Murphy Ververnot scribbled away diligently in his affluent quadrate office. To his sides were lovely young women serving him in near nakedness, for they wore revealing silk gowns.
LADY SERVANT
No answer.
She stated. She stood holding an elegant golden Scryer with a gold and silver handle at her chest while the other stood before a marble pedestal that held nothing but a glass pitcher of water upon a Purifying Plate.
MURPHY
Call him again.
He sighed, and she obeyed. He kept himself hunched over his desk and refused to lift his head of gelled-back blond hair as a messenger marched in.
The messenger strolled through the three heavily armored guards erected on either side of the office. They stood with their swords held in a reversed grip in both hands. The messenger strode in freely, unbothered by the guards' prickling stares.
MESSENGER
Master Murphy, Rigrund Warsong, a free servant of Sarumonin and the Adventurer's Guild, is here.
MURPHY
Bring him in.
Murphy mumbled, his right hand still toiling away at the sheets before him. The messenger turned and gestured for Rigrund to enter. Flanked by nigh naked ladies, Rigrund was escorted to stand before Murphy.
MESSENGER
He stands before you.
He informed, standing behind Rigrund as the two females left.
MURPHY
Good to meet you, Rigrund.
RIGRUND
A pleasure to meet—
MURPHY
Please, do not speak.
He softly recommended.
MURPHY
Because in all truthfulness, the pleasure is all mine.
Rigrund had no idea what Murphy was talking about. He had no facial expression to study.
MURPHY
The Fire Kingdom has been generous. I meant to grab hold of you nearly a month ago. But, I had no need until now.
He lifted a parchment and moved it out of the way—slamming it down on his desk. A female servant rushed in to grab the sheet.
MURPHY
Do you know why you are here?
RIGRUND
I—
MURPHY
Actually, don't answer. It matters not what you know or don't know.
He materialized several bound sheets and held them out for the messenger to grab and hand to Rigrund.
LADY SERVANT
No answer again, Master.
MURPHY
Call again.
He ordered calmly.
MURPHY
That bound document,
Murphy informed Rigrund.
MURPHY
Signed by both you and your brother, it grants me complete ownership of you and your family.
RIGRUND
What!?
Rigrund's heart skipped a beat as his fears came to light.
MURPHY
People of the Earth Kingdom never read what they sign. It baffles me dearly.
Murphy commented. Rigrund scanned the document as an old memory came to bite him.
RIGRUND
No—No! This can't be right!
He blurted, already in tears, as he recalled his last moments with Grungir. Those once good memories came back to him in flashes— Grungir came to meet with Rigrund to celebrate Grungir's creation of the Iron Knights. They met in the home of Rigrund. A quaint home that appeared poor but was well maintained.
Dozens of gents came to celebrate, bringing their finest mead, beer, cakes, and treats. Not a lady was in sight, for they were not invited. Rigrund's daughters were held up in the cellar of the home, cleaning the dishes along with his wife. They cleaned and scrubbed while adequately dressed in the orderliness of the cellar.
RIGRUND
He tricked me!
He moaned as he focused for a moment on the image of his beautiful wife. But the memory flashed— Gungir and Rigrund cheered in their drunken stupor with male family and friends.
MURPHY
That's what they all say.
Murphy muttered as the messenger reached for the bound parchments.
He, Grungir, and their friends welcomed the overthrow of the queen with songs and banter. Grungir then approached him, and they spoke in privacy.
Rigrund pulled away in a tantrum and threw the parchments to the floor.
RIGRUND
This is bifrost bull!
He bellowed, and a guard flattened him to the floor with speed and grace.
Grungir had acquired a plot of land, a gift he claimed was from followers of his kind. He wanted Rigrund to add his name and soul stamp to the deed.
RIGRUND
You can't do this to my family!
He bawled from underneath the weight of the guard as the memory of Grungir's fat smile taunted him. Grungir cheerfully rolled the parchment, and moments later, he left the party with haste.
MURPHY
You are the keeper of your family. And your family belongs to you. Grungir needed collateral in order to receive my aid. And so, he sold your family to me—in anticipation of his demise. Fret as much as you like. The Queen that you despise so much has not yet removed the ordinance granting fathers ownership of their family. Poetic, isn't it?
RIGRUND
But my son—!
MURPHY
—Was not of age when you signed. Still, I'm aware he becomes sixteen near the end of 2nd Winter.
RIGRUND
You bastard!
Murphy's hand froze for a moment as he shook his hunched head.
MURPHY
And here I wanted to keep you and your lovely family as servants due to our joint hate of the queen. But with such a mouth, you and your family can have at the mines.
Murphy gestured for the guard to take him. Rigrund fought vainly against it but was unable to free himself from the guard's iron grip.
RIGRUND
What of my daughters!?
He sobbed, his face drenched in tears.
SARUMONIN
What in damnations!?
Sarumonin's voice bellowed out the Scryer.
RIGRUND
They're too young to work!
LADY SERVANT
One moment, Guild Master Sarumonin.
She sang into the Scryer as Murphy's hand became still once more. He nodded to himself before gesturing the messenger forward.
MURPHY
He's right.
He uttered to the messenger over Rigrund's incoherent wails.
MURPHY
Have his daughters brought for spouse appraisal.
SARUMONIN
How did this Scryer get into my office!?
He shouted.
SARUMONIN
And why bother me in the midst of breaking another gent, Murphy!? I'm busy!
MURPHY
The Scryer was a gift.
Murphy retorted peacefully as the messenger bowed and took his leave.
SARUMONIN
I don't need it.
MURPHY
I would love to contract the finest adventurers you have. Something terrible has befallen the Iron Knights.
Sarumonin scoffed in disbelief,
SARUMONIN
Ha! Something terrible for you personally, I pray! I am Sarumonin D. Angel, Master—
MURPHY
I know who you are.
He interrupted.
SARUMONIN
Then why are you asking me directly!? You know how my guild works. Why don't you get off your ass and request them yourself?
MURPHY
Because we're friends, aren't we?
A crackling laugh erupted from the Scryer.
SARUMONIN
As if! You are stealing my free servants, and you dare call me your friend? Don't call me again.
MURPHY
But I need a few adventurers to—
SARUMONIN
And you still haven't answered my question!
MURPHY
Pardon?
He pondered innocently.
SARUMONIN
The Scryer,
He articulated.
SARUMONIN
How did it get in my office!?
MURPHY
It was a gift.
Murphy repeated, and Sarumonin kept silent for a moment.
SARUMONIN
Make use of your endless supply of slaves to make a request.
MURPHY
At least enjoy my charitable present—
SARUMONIN
I'm breaking this damn thing.
And Sarumonin ended the call, bringing silence to Murphy's office.
MURPHY
Messenger.
He uttered after a moment, and a different messenger strolled in.
*****
Meanwhile, Rigrund was dragged by his hair down into the cellar of the Miner's Guild. His face was battered with three bruises—a swollen right eye, a bruised lip, and a bump on his forehead. The guard dragged his nearly unconscious body through a bustling workshop of metal, mana, and steam, lit by floating Lesser Lighting Crystals. Enchanted fat-bladed fans floated on the far right wall of the room, circulating the air and condensing any hot steam back into water.
A workshop of servants worked—neither slave nor free—these individuals lived a decent life as long as they did their jobs. They took pride in the fact that their kingdom was the only kingdom within the Elemental Peninsula that had garnered slaves. A true kingdom where strong gents were able to thrive and the weak perished. They also found joy in their work and anticipated the moment someone like Rigrund would be passing through.
The workers cheered at the sight of Rigrund. Those further away leaped onto their heavy machinery to grab a good look at the poor sap. They raised their enchanted gloved fists and tools as they chanted, "Slaver—Slaver—Slaver." The guard lifted his hand and held it for a moment before flipping a thumbs up. The workers cheered "Slaver" with a roar of laughter before returning to their work of melting, hammering, and inspecting amber and tourmaline puries.
The guard continued to drag Rigrund's body down another series of stairs, deep below the workshop where the piss water of their machinery and lavatories streamed through. There was no laughter or cheering—only the eerie sound of water pelting off the rough stone tiles that Rigrund was nonchalantly dragged through.
Floating Petty Lighting Crystals of soft yellow light barely lit the way. Lightly armored gents patrolled the dungeon and hastily parted way for the guard.
The guard and Rigrund ambled through a line of caged cells, each one spacious enough to pen a giafullo. A single iron placard was bolted to the cells' gates that read the title Driver followed by a name. From inside the cells, the murmur of voices began to drone out the sound of dripping water. They quickly understood Rigrund was a slave like them by the look of his beaten face.
The guard came to a stop in front of a cell— Driver: Sky.
GUARD
Aye! Slave Driver!
He shouted, banging against the cell.
GUARD
Got another slaver for you!
The guard then pressed his armored finger onto the soul stamp next to the caged gate, and upon detecting his mana, the cage gate swung open. He tossed Rigrund inside and sealed the cage. Slaves wearing nothing but rags stared at Rigrund from the safety of their worn cots.
GUARD
Try not to kill this one.
From within the shadows of the cage, a girly giggle echoed out, and the guard glared at her in annoyance.
GUARD
I'm serious! Gents aren't cheap.
He complained as he turned to leave.
Inside the cell, Rigrund cowered against the cell's gate as movement echoed from out of the shadows. The other slaves adverted their gaze and cowered into their cots as a sudden plume of flames lit the cage.
The dancing quiver of flames hovered over a knobbed wrist as the thin young girl had no hands. Rigrund eyed her through his healthy eye—she was but a girl, just of age, he figured. But as she stood there in wrappings and tattered leather clothes, her orange eyes were widened with madness, her light blue skin striped with yellow was tainted with old thick scars, and her blonde hair was wild and unkempt.
Rigrund cowered against the cage entrance as she let out a rude laugh. She approached him, laughing hysterically as fear etched onto Rigrund's face.
SKY
We have a new slave to play with!
She squealed and set fire to his feet.
His screams echoed throughout the dungeon, and the guard stopped and turned at the top of the steps. He took a deep breath and shook his head.
GUARD
I swear that child is mad.
He grumbled and exited the dungeon.
*****
Meanwhile, in the Azure Mountains, miles east of a ruined battlefield, a crescent camp sat upon uneven ground. Its size would force any stranger to mistake it for a small village guarded by fully armored Lancers, Lagarmadas, and Warriors.
There were guards positioned at the fore of the camp, within the towers, and zipping through the air of drifting snow on the backs of brilliantly armored haizus, floating white beasts that resembled horses with a long neck and a thin head. Dense white haze took the form of their limbs and would embrace them as they propelled through the air in a trail of smoke.
The Lightning Kingdom flags, bearing an electrocuted black fist upon a yellow canvas, fluttered in the soft wind while the camp soldiers of all types drilled or rested. Those who rested did so at the foot of their tents or at the eating tables, where they whispered jubilantly about the new looks of the king.
SOLDIER
My friend, I saw his wings—
A soldier claimed as he sheltered with others from the soft snow beneath a giant canvas and ate at connected tables.
SOLDIER
—yellow and gold.
SOLDIER
The king is destined to become an overlord.
Another soldier interjected with a leering grin.
SOLDIER
And we will still be bodies thrown into the fire.
Said another.
SOLDIER
Eh?
A soldier near the end sounded off.
SOLDIER
Stop your whining, boy, about being a number. Did you not see the mountain of a dragon—dead before your eyes?
And as the two began to bicker, a gent upon a haizu zoomed through the air above them—speeding to the back of the camp where a towering structure made of stone, metal, animal hide, and fiend caucuses dwarfed every tent and hut within the camp. The gent landed before the intimidating Lancers protecting the entrance.
Inside the uniquely designed building, the Lightning King admired his reflection in the privacy of his cluttered quarters.
His black hair merged with the white and yellow feathers growing from his neck and down his back. His eyes were solid gold, and upon focusing his perfect eyesight, he was able to see random lightning bolts within his pupils.
KING OF LIGHTNING
I'm a Serakin, you say?
He asked into his reflection, but hidden in the corner of the mirror's reflection, a Scholar dressed in a black fur coat over black silk robes stepped forward and bowed.
SCHOLAR YODA
Yes, my king.
The king inspected his thin, musclebound arms covered in feathers—upon rubbing his arm, the friction gave way to harmless sparks of bolts. He slid his hands down his bare, smooth abs and looked past his erection to his chiseled legs covered in feathers.
KING OF LIGHTNING
Give me your honest opinion. Will I be able to become an overlord?
He asked Scholar Yoda.
SCHOLAR YODA
Yes, my king. With your transcendence and your fourth-tiered class, Dragoon, you stand rival to the other three overlords.
Scholar Lord explained as he took another step forward, his green eyes scanning the king's wings while his yellow face patterned with blue flowers was frozen in awe and admiration.
KING OF LIGHTNING
I can feel your desire to study.
The king uttered, and Scholar Lord hung his head, adverting his eyes.
SCHOLAR YODA
My apologies!
The king chuckled softly as he raised a hand above his head. Upon command, every strand of yellow feather pulled from his skin and converged into the king's hand, forming a smooth and metallic golden ball. The king was now bare, with only the feathers on his wings and neck, as he smiled softly at the orb crackling with mana.
A knock at the door, and the king glanced back at it.
KING OF LIGHTNING
I will grant you this because I must know who I am and what I can do, but first...
He strolled to his dresser, placing the golden orb of mana onto a covered table with two other identical crackling orbs.
KING OF LIGHTNING
…understand these orbs.
On the other side of the door, a steward took a deep breath,
STEWARD
Sire, a messenger from the kingdom.
He stated with conviction.
STEWARD
He brings news of your query.
The door cracked open, and the steward fled out of the way. The king crouched through the doorway and took three steps into his temporary study with nothing but a loose silk gown tied around his waist. His golden pupils bore down on the bowing steward.
KING OF LIGHTNING
Pardon?
He uttered softly.
KING OF LIGHTNING
Which query?
He questioned, and the steward sprung upright.
STEWARD
Sorry sire! Information about the Fire Kingdom.
The king glided over to his black angular metal desk and sat in his high, cushioned black chair. He eyed the bare, dim room: four servants, his steward, four personal guards, Scholar Lord at the door to his quarters, and the courier, damp with melted snow and standing near the entrance.
KING OF LIGHTNING
Go ahead, please.
The courier bowed swiftly,
COURIER
My apologies, my king, but Intel Master Kenobi had my tongue restricted.
He explained, sticking out his tongue to reveal a solid black soul stamp.
COURIER
You and only you, my king, will be able to hear my message.
KING OF LIGHTNING
That is fine. Continue.
COURIER
My king, Fire King Solo Windhammer, has indeed obtained God Item: Infinity.
The courier conveyed, and the king's jaws clenched.
KING OF LIGHTNING
So it was true.
COURIER
The news of King Solo's immortality has reached the North Star Kingdom. They were the ones to reveal the news to us, my king, and the reason they sought a ceasefire.
KING OF LIGHTNING
I see. This is why they called off the battle.
COURIER
Yes, my king. They are requesting our aid to stop Fire King Solo Windhammer and to prevent the news of his immortality from reaching the overlords in Sante June.
The king's eyes fell upon the table as he pondered. A soft smile parted his lips as he shook his head,
KING OF LIGHTNING
Pesky Quing. Seeking help after attempting to bar my ascension. However, I must admit this news is unpleasant and must be dealt with.
The king materialized a Scryer and placed his fingers into the grooves. An image of a heavily armored Lancer appeared along with the whistling sound of a storm.
KING OF LIGHTNING
General Grievous,
The king uttered softly.
GENERAL GRIEVOUS
Yes, my king!?
He shouted over the blizzard.
KING OF LIGHTNING
Gather our Psi, Witches, and Wizards. Have them—
COURIER
Sorry, my king,
He interrupted carefully.
COURIER
Intel Master Kenobi believes King Solo is aware of what defeated Joshua the Tyrant.
He explained quickly, and the king nodded.
GENERAL GRIEVOUS
My king?
He asked, unaware that the courier was speaking.
KING OF LIGHTNING
So, King Solo would, more or less, be preparing for it.
The king mumbled and faced his Scryer.
KING OF LIGHTNING
I need you to gather every Mage nearing their third tier and have them ready on the southern border, along with our first and second commands.
GENERAL GRIEVOUS
The southern border, my king?
KING OF LIGHTNING
Yes. I also order you to leave the field. North Star will not attack. Return to the nation and prepare. Let us see what this King of Balance does when faced with war.
*****
As the tides of war began to crawl within the Lightning King, a plump Fire Kingdom noble rested in his chestnut-colored royal bed, dawned in a near-transparent pink garment. The many pillows against his headboard slightly inclined him.
His spacious room was a blanket of red with auburn and brown colored furniture, Lesser Lighting Crystals, carpet, and rugs. Tall windows to the right of his bed, with the curtains pulled to the sides, revealed the snowy weather and allowed the sun's fleeting rays to light up the room.
The noble, Noble Dah Challa, basked in anticipation as he eyed the door to his room. His hands rubbed against his pink blob of a stomach as he occasionally attempted to reach for his withered erection but failed.
Movement was heard outside the door, and Dah Challa quickly pushed back the strands of black hair out of his pink face, patterned with black thorny vines that ran down to his arms. Again, he reached below his gut and failed. He sat up in annoyance and struck a pose. His dark red eyes glared intensively and unblinkingly at the door. Silence.
DAH CHALLA
Sun gods be damned!
He hissed and fought his way out of his bed. He stomped to his room's door and poked his head out into his small study—a room of a single scroll shelf, three desks of varying sizes, and warm-colored decorations.
Sitting behind a small desk, a middle-aged maid snapped to attention the second she spotted Dah Challa's fat head.
MAID
Yes, Noble Dah Challa?
She nearly squealed.
DAH CHALLA
Where are they!?
MAID
Your retainer mentioned he was on his way with them.
She explained, but Dah Challa let out a childish groan.
DAH CHALLA
Call that idiot! I did not pay a good amount of puries to wait all day!
He berated and slammed the door. He stomped his way back to his bed and plopped onto it, sinking the entire bed three inches. He climbed in further and sighed.
As he turned to get into position, a knock echoed. Dah Challa quickly got into position and eyed the door with his most charming look.
DAH CHALLA
Send them in!
He hollered, and the door opened.
Dah Challa whipped his legs closed as the prostitutes he was expecting did not arrive. Instead, his retainer, Bezel Bull, a Warrior armed with a short sword at his hip and dressed in leather armor and a hooded coat, stood at the entrance with his purplish hands over his green and black ringed eyes.
DAH CHALLA
What are you doing in here, Bezel!
He roared, attempting to pull his covers over his body.
DAH CHALLA
I will have you flailed by the Fathers!
BEZEL
You wish.
He mumbled softly, peeking over his hands.
BEZEL
Have you covered your nakedness yet?
DAH CHALLA
I am going to have you seared in lava!
He snarled through his teeth.
BEZEL
Good luck with that.
He mumbled under his breath and placed his hands on his hips.
BEZEL
Sorry to interrupt your moment of bliss, but I bring news from Lord Ignis' retainers.
Dah Challa's demeanor quickly shifted, and his anger sizzled away. He froze and gave up, attempting to cover his nakedness, and stared at Bezel with worry.
DAH CHALLA
News? Lord Ignis? What news?
He asked sharply.
BEZEL
He is unable to contact Master Cain.
DAH CHALLA
But why not?
He nearly shouted. Nerves began to stammer his words as he continued,
DAH CHALLA
I—I personally requested the Scryers for the two. Perfectly designed and well-made Scryers at that!
Bezel strained his neck nervously and smiled, causing dimples to appear on his gray-purplish face.
BEZEL
I would not be touting that right now. Lord Ignis is ordering you to contact Master Cain, and once you have, you are required to meet with Lord Ignis and the council with Master Cain on the Scryer.
Bezel studied Dah Challa's sullen expression.
DAH CHALLA
And the council?
He asked, nearly whispering.
Bezel laughed nervously before nodding,
BEZEL
Yep. Let us do a good job, or you, me, and the rest of your retainers will be seared in lava.