“Known for its lack of monsters, Blackmist Forest was once a famous tourist destination. A place where athletic couples would hike across observing the fascinating flora along the way. It was known for its safety and beautiful trees such as the tall and sturdy Live Oak and the glittering Golden Willows which live together in groves. Unfortunately, the Great Powers at the end of the Fourth Era left many dangerous experiments and traps within the forest. The most famous being a poisonous black mist that would consume the forest every night.” - Lydia Hand, An Explorer’s Guide to the Continent of Brydall
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A demoness and a man dash through the underbrush of Blackmist Forest breaking the tranquility of the region. The demoness starts to banter with the man running closely behind her.
“You like what you see back there?” the demoness teases.
“I know that you cannot help but stare at me, especially when my skirt floofs up and down.”
Letting out a distinctive sigh, Titus responds, “Stop flirting with me, Ashtarte. Now is not the time. Also, wipe that smug grin from your face. Again, just because you are a Demon Lord does not make you invincible.”
“Come on, Titus! A little teasing never hurt anyone. Besides, I just wanted you to loosen up a bit in case we have to fight,” Ashtarte says with a toothy grin. “Also, you should know what is required for a demon to become a Demon Lord. The things that are capable of killing me can be counted on one hand.”
“There you go again, Ashtarte. Rationalizing your actions like always.” Titus responds tired of dealing with her antics. He looks up ahead and sees the mana in the air spiralling toward a grove of Golden Willows. Deciding against his better judgment, he smiles and says to her, “Also, there is not much to look at from where I was at before. Five out of ten.”
A flaming fist soars toward his face. As if predicting the future, Titus bends backward and dodges Ashtarte’s fist and flames. “What is wrong, Tarty? I am only loosening myself up just as you wanted.” Titus says sarcastically.
“I am going to crush your spine and make you my slave, little prince!” Ashtarte thinks.
“Calm down, Ashtarte, calm down, close your eyes, breath in - and - out, in - and - out.”
After her little breathing session, she glares at Titus with (less?) murderous intent.
He involuntarily shiveres. “What the f*ck, why do you want me dead? You tease me all the time; but when I do it to you, you try to kill me?” Titus thought to himself, wondering if he made the right decision. “I will let future me handle it,” he thinks to himself. Mentally sighing, he says to Ashtarte, “Look, I know you really want to cave my skull in right now, but we are almost at the source of this arcane disturbance. “
Pointing to the grove of Golden Willows, Titus continues, “All of the mana in the forest is spiralling toward that group of trees. We can resolve our problems at a later date. But first, we have to solve this mystery and prevent anything disastrous from happening.”
Her blood still boiling in rage, Ashtarte looks up ahead at the grove of Golden Willows. She plunges headlong into the thicket. She then sees an old man with a monocle on his left eye standing in the midst of a group of Golden Willows leaning on his cane with his head looking at the ground. A shadow of gloom looms over her and Titus’ heart and mind.
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Hearing the chuckles in his mind, the old man is deliberating whether he should have put those stone tablets in his item pouch. Sighing, he asks, “Author, can I call upon Him now. Also, could you tell me where these people are coming from and who they are?”
“Yes, you can communicate with Him now as well as the other deities now. For your second question you can find out who they are by yourself.”
Although somewhat disappointed with Author’s second answer, he was satisfied with his response and straightforwardness. The old man first prays to the Lord of Secret History in Old Latin to receive a blessing. A blessing of Luck descends upon the man from his God.
He then opens his third eye and senses two people running from the north to where he is at. He turns his head there and then scrutinizes their strengths and weaknesses and what they are wearing. He sees that one is a young demoness from the South and the other is a young man who looks like he hails from the North. They are both wearing the distinctive uniform of the University of Urbino.
The young man has pasty white skin and a lanky build. He has blond hair and sky-blue eyes which have a hint of melancholy in them. He has a comely countenance and is light on his feet. The elder’s eyes then falls upon the boy’s sheath and hilt. He recognizes the symbols on the boy’s sheath, a golden circle with a silver crown above the circle. It is the insignia of the Adronicus family of the Northern Kingdoms. From the blue crystal and white Manatite on his hilt, he probably hails from the Middle Kingdom, Lombardia. He is also likely one of the princes of Lombardia by how ornately decorated his sword is. The old man also detects that there are traces of light magic within his sword. Next, looking at his gait, he looks like an experienced swordsman despite how he looks and is probably a magic swordsman too if he really is a Lombardian prince.
He then looks at the demoness. She has a lean, toned body and is slightly shorter than the man behind her. Lean, somewhat small but dense muscle can especially be seen on her arms and legs. As an added bonus, her breasts are of the perfect size not to big and not to small satisfying the Golden Mean. She has light-brown skin, fierce scarlet eyes, and raven black hair. Two decently sized black horns plated with Magicis Gold sit atop her head with her black tail swishing side to side as she runs toward the grove. One can also see that her tail ends in a small triangle. The most distinctive feature of the demoness, however, is something that cannot be seen by the naked eye. A waterfall of mana flows from her body and a thick dominating aura envelops her body and her mana. “Hmmm?” the old man ponders. “She is either a high ranking vassal of a well-known Demon Lord or she just became a Demon Lord herself, recently,” he says in his mind.
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“Looking at her physique and the man’s sword, they probably are adept at close quarter combat,” he mutters to himself.
Sighing, he takes out his golden pen and chants, “Scribere ….”
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Ashtarte seeing the suspicious old man leaning on his cane, yells out to him, “Who are you!?!?” while also instinctively wrapping her tail around her waist.
The man does not reply and flatly ignores her.
Incensed by his apparent arrogance, she charges at the man full speed and throws a flaming fist toward his face. She misses. The man is now in front of her and stares at her with his dead fish eyes. Cold sweat drips down her neck.
A flash of silver breaks the scene, Titus appears on Ashtarte’s left having already slashed at the old man. The man is not there anymore.
He says to her, “Be careful, Ashtarte! That man is probably an illusionist!”
Nodding back, Ashtarte jumps away from him and crouches down. Her aura shoots out of her body like a tsunami filling half of Darkmist Forest. Her eyes then lock-on a willow to her far left. With a mad dash, she obliterates the tree with her flaming fists.
A man is seen flying out of the debris.
Not letting an opening go to waste, Ashtarte jumps high into the air and crashes toward the man with her flamming right foot. The white-hot flames from her foot burn through her uniform’s and shoes’ magical defenses, leather, and cloth leaving Ashtarte barefoot. Her molten sole lands on the old man’s chest and collapses it.
Impaled by her foot, the old man crashes toward the ground melting the rock and turning the nearby trees into ash. Waves of molten rock ripple across the forest turning to cinders everything it touches.
Standing arrogantly on the man’s chest, she peers at his face. His top hat is gone allowing her to see his bald head which is smooth as soap. He has wrinkles on his forehead and an amazing white mustache that curls into itself. His eyes are tightly shut with a monocle resting on his right eye.
His eyes open suddenly looking at his assailant, Ashtarte. He smirks and says, “Call me Moses.”
Darkness overcomes her vision.
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“ashtarte... Ashtarte…. Ashtarte! … ASHTARTE!!!” Ashtarte returns to her senses. She is standing in the midst of the grove of Golden Willows. Her arms and feet are emitting a blue fire burning the sleeves of her shirt and her shoes to ash. She turns to the one calling her name, Titus. His body and face are covered in bruises and scratches, but besides that he looks uninjured. She stops fuelling the blue fire with her mana, temporarily.
She asks, “What happened?”
”Illusions,” he responds. Pointing with his now drawn out sword toward the old man leaning on the cane, he says, “He is strong. I have sliced through another world of llusions already, but I think we are both still trapped in one of his illusions and that there are several illusion afterward that we would have to break.”
Ashtarte questions, “If we are both in an illusory world now, how do I know that you are not an illusion?”
“You do not have to worry about that, young lass,” the old man, Moses, says in a gruff voice.
Her body tenses up. Her eyes dart back and forth between Titus and Moses. Her senses have been heightened to their limits.
“Actually, young lass, it would not be the best idea to focus on your surroundings like that. You are still in my illusory world which means that your senses can be more easily deceived by me if you focus like that. HAHAHA!” the old man says with a hearty laugh.
Her body still tense and her focus still on her surroundings especially Titus and the old man, she asks in a questioning tone, “Who are you and why are you here?”
Sighing, the old man replies, “Did I not tell you earlier? Call me Moses. Also, you should know that it is quite impolite attacking someone out of the blue like that. I mean no harm to you or your lover over there.”
“We are not lovers!” Ashtarte loudly yells. Narrowing her eyes at Moses, she states, “You also did not answer my other question.”
“Why should I?” Moses replies.
Jumping away from (Titus?) and Moses, Ashtarte takes a fighting stance, raising her arms toward her face and clutching her hands into fists of bright blue fire, her legs slightly bent with muscles bulging out ready to spring into action when the need arises.
Titus suddenly says to Ashtarte looking at her with caring but cautious eyes, “Hey, Tarty, I know you may not trust me right now, but … look, I do not know how I can convince you that I am really Titus but I do know what you like.” Pausing in thought, Titus continues, “I will let you fight him one-on-one since I know you love the thrill of battle.”
“Do you really think that this naive young lass can defeat me?” Moses asks of Titus.
Before allowing Titus to reply, Moses says to Ashtarte,”Also, young lass, how do you know that young man over there is not an illusion? I could have extracted some of his memories while I am fighting him now in another illusory world different from this one or I could have learned about you from him just talking about you and himself when he thinks he has the advantage.”
(Titus?) looks at Moses with a glare.
Ashtarte responds sharply to Moses, “It does not matter whether or not he is telling the truth to me because you will be dead before he can do anything to stop me killing you.”
Sighing dejectedly, Moses replies, “Why do you guys want to kill me? It makes no sense. All I did was stroll through the forest, but then some hormonal teenagers start suddenly attacking me even though I did nothing to them. And I am somehow the bad guy in all this? What is wrong with this world?”
“By the way you talk and the atmosphere you emit, you are a natural deceiver, old man.” She says while tightening her muscles and letting her aura pour out into the environment. “Again, whether or not you die is not up to me but by how strong you are.”
"Huh... so be it." Moses fixing the top hat on his head and raising both his hands with his Black Lead cane looming ominously above his head yells,"COME AT ME, LASS!!!"
Crushing the ground underneath, Ashtarte sprints toward Moses with a focused, determined look in her eyes.