Chapter 33

Warlocks, Azaren, Spiders, oh My!

Eliot

An orange feathered raptor sped through the Leaf Forest. Characterized by its millions of human-sized leaves and varied invertebrate population, the Leaf Forest is the fourth largest forest on the Feral Continent. Eliot chased after the raptor with a vengeance. He had been tracking it for days now, and he was determined to catch it.

  His original travel plan was to teleport via public portal transport to Card Fortress, a settlement known far and wide for its pleasures and that accepts portals from most every other fortress on the daily. After his night with Ellulia, he did just that and ended the day near Porter City. He decided against going to Relice Fortress because Card Fortress had a clear line of travel around the Leaf forest, whereas he would have to pave through it if he went for Relice Fortress. Additionally, he couldn’t have gone there even if he wanted to because Relice Fortress was known for being the farthest out, and only accepted daily portals directly from the Metropolis. Now that he was on his way back, it would be faster to spend the time traversing the Leaf Fortress, portal to the Metropolis the same day he reached Relice Fortress, and ultimately finish his test near the end of that same day.

  The sun bathed raptor, the animal Eliot was currently hunting, was known far and wide as an extremely rare delicacy. They say that its meat is so tender that you can drink it. Passing through the Leaf Forest- where it was said to be most common- there was absolutely no way he was going to pass up the chance to taste it.

  Eliot was never more tempted to use magic than right now. If it got away, he would have to abandon the hope of ever eating it and he would have wasted the days he sought it out. He sucked in a breath and spurred his muscles. Instead of contributing his last wind to a mad dash, he jumped up a tree, snapping an arm-sized branch on the way. Then, he measured the distance in his mind as the raptor flew further and further away. He hurled the stick, it flipped over itself in slow motion and brutally thwacked the raptor’s poor head.

  “Yes!” he whispered through his teeth, practically skipping on his way over.

  Jovially humming, he crouched down to snap its neck. Suddenly, a lightning bolt beat him to it. Eliot instinctively fell into a backwards roll and faced the idiot who would dare try to steal his catch.

  They were pre-teen kids. Five of them, dressed in light leather armor dyed a different color per person and fitted with… capes. Either they were born and raised in this forest, or they were a band of naive brats. Contrary to expectations, Eliot was leaning towards the first assumption. After all, at least one of them was a warlock, and they managed to sneak up on him. And something about their ridiculous capes was familiar.

  The kid with a streak of golden hair and an outstretched arm, the one who cast the bolt, said, “That’s our kill.” He may have been trying to be threatening, but his skinny frame and squeaky voice really didn’t help.

  Eliot snorted. “I’ve been hunting it for days. You think cause you can do some low-level sorcery that you can do whatever you want?”

  “I’ll show you low-level sorcery!” The kid started waving his hands in the air, and in the background Eliot noticed his friends arguing about letting this go on. He raised his left hand up in the air and drew his right hand back near his chest. A lightning bolt, despite it being perfectly sunny, cascaded from the sky. His left arm absorbed the lightning and he thrust his right arm at Eliot.

  Usually, Eliot wouldn’t have bothered to do anything more than fight for his kill, but seeing the wildly irresponsible use of their sorcery, warlock or not, he was going to teach these kids a lesson. He let the bolt hit him dead on, and his dense light blue Mage’s Armor flickered to life.

  “You’re right,” he mocked superciliously. “Something that can’t even phase my armor doesn’t deserve to be called sorcery.” Eliot stepped forward. The kid stumbled backwards in shock

  The other kids stepped forward with their sorcery at the ready. “There’s five of us, one of you,” one of the three girls tried.

  “There could be five hundred of you. It still wouldn’t be a fair fight,” Eliot dismissed derisively.

  Suddenly, the elements alight in the young warlocks’ grasps ceased. They stiffened in place, their faces taking on a flush of helpless frustration. Light laughter sounded amidst the leafy canopy. Eliot looked up, as he did the green parted. A man clad in immaculate full black cotton fiber with a flowing cape and a contrasting animal skull as a helm, stood stationary in the air, safely enclosed in a bubble of force that pushed the leaves from touching him. He was using sorcery to hold in place the air under his feet: Eliot had seen Ellulia step on air many times; His skull might have belonged to a baby dragon. It had long jutting horns in a lazy ‘U’ shape and its fearsome natural weapons were perfectly displayed by a cracked open maw.

  “My students never fail to surprise me.” His voice was a low rumble that reverberated in Eliot’s eardrums. He walked down invisible stairs, leading him to step foot on the ground a mere thirty centimeters from Eliot. Behind him, his students still vainly struggled to move in any capacity. “I apologize on their behalf. No matter the frequency they are punished for irresponsible sorcery, they never seem to learn,” he chided with a modest shake of the head.

  Eliot beamed. A group of immature warlocks was interesting, sure, but a fully-fledged master of sorcery was too good to pass up.

  “I’m sure that isn’t due to a lack of respect,” he gave a thinly veiled compliment. The warlock looked back.

  “I am sure you are correct,” he sighed, letting the students fall free from their bindings.

  “You’re freezing the air around them, right? If so, how are you bypassing their auras?” Eliot couldn’t help asking.

  “Ah, well it is actually very simple. I am merely attaching air outside of their auras to the air inside and controlling it as one entity,” he explained. Eliot blinked dumbly, it really was simple. How come there isn’t a spell like that?

  “Impressive nonetheless.”

  “Impressive indeed, if you are referring to your Mage’s Armor. How long have you studied magic?” he asked before turning around to check on his students.

  “A little more than a year.” The warlock knelt down to examine a bloody scrape on the golden-haired kid’s knee. He pressed his hand to it, and it was nowhere to be seen when he moved away.

  “Then, I am sure you have more than rudimentary knowledge of sorcery?”

  “Any self-respecting mage would,” Eliot answered. He noticed a small shift in the man’s tone.

  “But in spite of this knowledge, you are not aware, are you?”

  “What are you saying?” Eliot asked, narrowing his eyes. The man turned to face him again.

  “You have the gift. In other words, you are a warlock,” he told him.

  “You think I wouldn’t know if I was a warlock?” Eliot snorted.

  “You have been capable of mana manipulation since birth. Mages must train before they can manipulate their mana, not warlocks,” he said.

  “I’m a very talented mage,” refused Eliot.

  “If it helps, nearly half of all mages are also warlocks. They simply never entertain the fact.”

  “How do you know I’m part of the forty percent?”

  “It is my life work to identify those with the gift,” explained the warlock. “To inform those such as yourself who live in ignorance. But enough debate, I can prove it to you, if you are willing.”

  “How?” he demanded

  “We have developed artifacts for that very purpose,” the warlock shared.

  “Who is we?” Eliot asked, slightly irritated.

  The warlock waved his hand through the air. At his command, the canopy peeled away to reveal a flabbergasting sight. Sitting on inverted mountains of stone and dirt was a city of blues, whites, and grays. From the ground, Eliot could make out grand temple-like structures, massive domes sitting on little to no support, concentric landmarks of floating, pulsating steel rings inside of more rings, tens of black dots zipping through the air space, and so much more. The entire settlement radiated an aura of sheer technological and supernatural superiority. More aptly put, it was Eliot’s personal paradise.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said while fixing one hand in the other and stooping into a bow, “I am High Councillor of Knowledge and Education. Most people address me as Councillor Bruno, it is a pleasure to meet such an accomplished mage, and soon to be accomplished warlock.”

  Eliot was entirely, absolutely, and utterly dumbfounded. How come he was just learning this existed now? Why wasn’t he born on that floating paradise? Where did he sign up?

  “Who, w-what… why!?” he stammered, deliberately playing up his surprise for his own enjoyment.

  “While I never intended for you to meet some of my students, believe it or not, our crossing paths was the farthest thing from a coincidence.” Councillor Bruno indicated the largest, center-positioned floating series of rings with an almost invisible wind current that somehow singled out exactly what he was referring to. “That gyro is responsible for receiving and deciphering every mana signature within four kilometers. It alerts the High Council whenever it detects a being with the gift, and usually a representative is sent to make contact. However, when we were made aware of the mana signature’s intensity, I came personally. I did not expect to meet Eliot Relius, The Portal Mage.”

  Eliot’s senses were slowly un-numbing themselves. He took a second to be surprised that he had a title before asking, “How did you know who I was?”

  Councillor Bruno’s voice took on a hint of geniality. “Without fail, when a genius’ name is spread throughout the lands, they have a prominent feature that is not lost through any number of transmutations. For you, it is the abnormal color of your hair.”

  “Skulls are normal, but white hair isn’t?” he tried relieving the shock.

  “Why, yes. It is a cultural requirement for the council to don the skull of their mightiest kills,” he replied, his tone portraying that he was personally proud to display one of his best accomplishments.

  “And how exactly are we supposed to get up there?” Eliot queried.

  “Be patient and you shall see.” Councillor Bruno raised his voice and said, “Gather around, the sweeper is almost upon us.” His students crowded around their teacher, eager not to be left behind but still wary of Eliot. While they did that, Eliot quickly stooped to store the sun bathed raptor.

  A column of white energy blossomed to life, depriving them of the outside world. Slow to start up but quick to increase in speed, it started rotating until all anyone could make out were the pulsing streaks that almost made it appear that the column wasn’t moving at all. Then, the outer layer fell, and they were standing on a saucer of white that carved out a cookie cutter hole in a rectangular golden platform. On the opposite end, it connected to the ground level of the floating city.

  The kids all bolted for the other side, and Eliot ran after them in fear that the saucer would disappear. But, he soon realized that wasn’t the reason they were running, at least it wasn’t the only reason. The second he stepped foot on the metal, he could feel its searing heat and proceeded to play a game of hopscotch to get across.

  When he made it to the soothing grassed dirt, he turned to the unperturbed Councillor Bruno and voiced his complaints, “That seems like a design flaw. You should do something about that.”

  “Unfortunately, we have already done all we can. Whatever the metal, or ancillary rituals, there is nothing to be done about the heat,” he explained with a frown in his voice. “Those who take frequent journeys down below are outfitted with rubber soles to compensate.”

  “Wait a second,” Eliot verbally stopped him along with a gesture. “Did you say rituals?”

  “Yes, engravings are merely carved runes. As warlocks, we do not study those runes, and therefore cannot engrave,” he confirmed.

  “So you use rituals? How is that supposed to help?” Eliot had heard of ritual magic, everyone had, but it was only prescribed as a method of casting extremely advanced spells that required more mana than a human could possibly have and large quantities of materials that get used up in the process, like say dropping a meteor from low orbit. Otherwise, it was known for ongoing effects, something magic was sorely lacking, but it was always passed up for engravings because of ritual magic’s insane complexity.

  “You are unaware of a ritual’s true capabilities. The sweeper and other inventions like it are all thanks to rituals. However, that is forgivable, since no empire has had a ritualist coven since the magical genocide,” Councillor Bruno said patronizingly.

  Eliot was practically fuming at this point. Out of nowhere, this guy claims that Eliot was a warlock. Then, he reveals a floating city, tells him that rituals were amazing, and references what Eliot assumed was a historical event that he had absolutely no knowledge of. His world was being flipped upside down and pulled inside out at the same time.

  “I need a moment,” he huffed.

  Eliot turned away from the painted brick buildings and monolithic structures that blocked out the sky. He walked to the edge to look down at the passing forest. It was nothing but an endless sea of green canopy, he couldn’t even make out the most prominent of details from so high up. But that blur was like a comforting blanket for his senses. It helped as much as, if not more than, his breathing techniques in assuaging his emotions.

  When he turned back, his eyes blazed with new conviction. How many times would he be phased by what life threw at him? Not anymore. From now on, he would take it in stride. In fact, when he cut through his anger, he found that he was brimming with excitement, and these revelations didn’t change much in the end. He was going to become the greatest mage that ever lived, that entailed learning absolutely every facet of magic that existed. If anything, all it did was introduce more opportunities.

  “Tell me everything.”

  “Excellent,” Councillor Bruno celebrated with a soft clap. “Let us be off to the training hall.”

  As its name suggested, Councillor Bruno led him past rows of multistoried homes that outclassed any manor he’d ever seen, to a cavernous, closed off hall where hundreds of younger warlocks sparred and practiced their sorcery. Some carried weapons used in the form of spell foci, others practiced shaping large beasts or scenery out of a chosen element, and the outliers were engaged in anything from meditating in a massive body of suspended water to playing soccer with an electric ball.

  The floor was a never ending gray foam mat. Imposing and uniform columns loomed at the boundaries, and an otherworldly blue haze blotted out the distance. The atmosphere was eerily similar to the Room of Enlightenment, with a small difference. Though, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what that difference was.

  “Welcome to the training hall,” Councillor Bruno announced as they entered. “It is being acted upon by multiple rituals to achieve the effect you see now. No engraving could possibly manage this.” Eliot gave him a noncommittal hm as his response. “In fact, a ritual is the reason why it is easier to practice sorcery within the training hall’s walls.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Eliot prefaced, “What exactly is the ritual doing to the space in order to make sorcery easier?”

  “The ritual is stripping the space of any laws, effectively reducing the influence being acted upon the space, therefore making it easier to affect it with your will,” Councillor Bruno elucidated.

  “Interesting,” Eliot hummed as he folded his legs under him, “What would you recommend I do as my first act of sorcery?”

  “Excellent question, it is generally much easier to do something concerning an element that you have an affinity for,” he advised.

  “I don’t have any elemental affinities,” Eliot grumbled.

  “Then, try imitating a form of magic you feel comfortable with.”

  Eliot closed his eyes and focused his mind. Will and imagery, those were the two pillars of sorcery. The more realistic your image, the more clear the meaning behind your will will be translated. The stronger your will, the more effect you will have on reality. He had read nearly a dozen books breaking down sorcery and the differences it has to magic, but Councillor Bruno was right. He had never tried it.

  In his mind’s eyes, he imagined a shadow forming under him. Just like the Room of Enlightenment, the warlocks’ training hall was universally lit and no shadows existed, so he had to create his own. He toiled over the crispness of his image and shape of the shadow until he was sure that it wouldn’t get any clearer before introducing mana. As he manipulated his mana to leave his aura, he imparted his will as firm as he knew how.

  He opened his eyes and looked behind him.

  “It isn’t working, you lied to me,” he angrily spouted an accusation.

  “It worked somewhat, the shadow simply dissipated when you opened your eyes,” said Councillor Bruno.

  “Are you saying that my will isn’t strong enough?”

  “No,” he denied. “I think that you are taking on a challenge too difficult for you yet. Try again, but remember, the more natural your intent, the easier reality will conform to your will. It might be better to manipulate something that already exists.”

  Eliot shut his eyes and redoubled his efforts. He repeated the steps exactly like before with one key difference. When he opened his eyes, a small ball of pure light floated a few meters ahead and a few meters above. In nature, there was never shadow without light. And, from what he knew, light was already present, he just needed to condense it. Plus, he was mimicking the beginner level light spell. The difference is, the light spell needs something to attach to. If you summoned it in the air, you could change the intensity, color, and duration all like regular, but you couldn’t change its position. That was one of the benefits of sorcery and downfalls of magic, after changing reality you can’t change it again without casting another spell. In other words, you have absolutely no control over the light after casting without casting another spell to snuff out the light.

  Turning his head to look behind him, he saw a long shadow protrude from under him. He stood up and regarded his shadow with narrowed eyes. A horse made up of inky liquid darkness rose from the ground and neighed majestically. Then, he turned to the light. It lowered until it touched the ground and grew into an identically shaped horse made entirely of solidified light. Councillor Bruno was right, manipulating something that already existed was nothing.

  “So you do have an affinity with the elements,” Councillor Bruno remarked.

  “The academy doesn’t classify light or darkness as elements, and I don’t have affinities with them anyways,” Eliot corrected him while rubbing the wavy maine of the light horse with one hand and the smokey maine of the shadow horse with the other.

  “Then, I take it you are convinced?”

  The light and dark horses suddenly dissipated. “No, not yet,” He demanded, adapting a meditative posture. He tried his best to appear calm and composed, but on the inside he was freaking out. Not because of his newly achieved warlock status. Because of what he just realized: the portal spell was an incomplete spell. Calm down, he soothed himself, Think it through one step at a time.

  The first thing Eliot noticed about it was the lack of a closing feature. It didn’t make any sense that the portal closed after he stopped supplying mana to it, magic permanently changes reality. He learned soon after that it was the Law of Space’s will that made it eagerly want to fix itself. It was the same with his shadows, they unsolidified and lost shape after he cut off the mana supply because the Law of Shadows dictates that it be so. It was also the reason its mana cost was astronomical compared to other spells, because it directly fought against the will of a major law.

  That was all well and good, it was utilizing a loophole to get out of a closing feature, but since then he took it upon himself to be thoroughly astute about these things. He believed that he should understand the theory and how it actually worked if he was going to use it. What Eliot just realized in the present day was the fact that he used sorcery when deciding the positioning of the portals. The first portal appeared wherever he willed it, and he only input the distance of the second portal, not the elevation. Not to mention, there was nothing in the runes that dictated the second portal’s location is based off of the caster’s.

  Of course, he was aware of the loose direction from the beginning. He assumed that Karl Favesh found some genius way to circumvent the need that he just couldn't find. But, now he could say with one hundred percent certainty that the portal spell was incomplete and the only reason he is able to cast it is because he's a warlock. That also means Karl Favesh was a warlock.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed, “I’m an idiot, why did I not realize sooner?!”

  “That is the common reaction. Give it time,” Councillor Bruno said sagely.

  “No, this means I can’t afford to waste any time.” He jumped to his feet and asked, “What’s next?”

  “Next, you must decide. Walk with me, I suspect you will not be pleased.”

  By the time they were at the foot of the steps leading up to the grand library, Eliot was thoroughly unpleased. Councillor Bruno finally told him the catch to all of this: if he wanted to learn sorcery from them or have access to any of their knowledge, he needed to swear his allegiance to the High Council and live on the Flying Ark of Etriis.

  The thing that frustrated him to no end is, he would have taken the deal without a second thought only a few months ago. Now, though, he had Ellulia. It wasn’t like he couldn’t travel, and he was sure he could make long distance work with Cel, Henry, and Penelope, he already was. But, he could never make it work with Ellulia. Furthermore, admittedly less of a priority, he was Master Camble’s discipulus and was currently behind schedule on making it back to Everveil in time to pass his test. Adding insult to injury, he didn’t feel like explaining it to Councillor Bruno, which made it worse because he intended on not taking a simple no for an answer. Eliot figured it was probably his job to try and convince him.

  “I’m sorry, but nothing you say will make me agree,” he said frankly.

  Councillor Bruno heaved a coarse sigh. “I understand, however I implore that you see the library before leaving,” he practically begged.

  Eliot lifted his head with a groan. The library looked significantly more like a temple. It’s foundation was raised on a podium and it boasted an octastyle pronaos with composite columns. Unlike other temples, its foundation and support was entirely carved out of some pale blue mineral, and it’s roof was embellished to resemble an open book with a pastel red cover laid on the tops of the columns, spine facing up. Every fiber of Eliot’s being wanted to see what kind of collection it housed, he hated that it was all restricted.

  “Fine, but I’m leaving right after,” he conceded.

  “Of course,” Councillor Bruno assured him triumphantly.

  The inside was shockingly normal. The floor was a thin carpet and the walls were a faint maroon. At the entrance was a large mostly open space with a few comfortable looking leather chairs strategically positioned next to small circle tables. To the left was an empty clerk’s desk with a few stacks of books. Past the entrance were rows of giant wooden bookcases overflowing with books. Hanging from the ceiling were helpful plaques labelling different sections under a genre, and on top of each book case were stood up books that served as examples of the subgenre and types of books that case might hold. Eliot assumed that it was bigger on the inside, especially since it was perfectly lit without a visible light source anywhere in the vicinity, but it was hard to tell when the building was huge to begin with.

  He stepped forward and took in a deep breath. His lungs filled with the blissful scent of knowledge. As far as Eliot was concerned, a good library didn’t need some over the top and extra showy spatial magic or ritual. An adequately well kept and mundane selection of titles was all that it needed to be perfect. It was a shame he would never be able to access it.

  “Amazing, yes? There is more,” Councillor Bruno interrupted his peaceful sensory indulgence and ushered him to a small podium. Resting on top was an open book full of blank pages, a pen and ink situated next to it. “If you are searching for a specific title or key word, simply write it there”-He gestured to the book with his hand. “Go ahead, test it.”

  Eliot dipped the pen in ink and wrote down the word ‘sorcery’. His cheeky grin faded when his words sunk into the paper and were replaced with ‘restricted’. He waited until the page cleared itself, a very easy process on the eyes, and wrote ‘Gomaide’. After the words sunk in, he heard a dampened clatter in the wall that the podium was up against. Councillor Bruno opened a small hatch on said wall and took out a stack of fifteen books, all with the same author. Eliot giddily smiled in spite of himself, it was too amazing that they had all fifteen volumes of Gomaide’s work. Personally, he was only able to read the first, eight, and eleventh.

  “Now, say that you no longer require these books,” Councillor Bruno prodded.

  “I’m done with these books,” Eliot played along. The second he said the words, every single book whizzed out of Councillor Bruno’s arms, past Eliot’s face, and around bookcases, out of view. A long series of soft thunks announced that they found their rightful places on the shelves. Very convenient, and not too showy. But Councillor Bruno wasn’t done, it was time for his closing statement.

  He sat across Eliot on the opposite sides of a table and launched into it, “Books are possibly the most valuable commodity in existence. Even the cheapest can go for as high as one hundred silver.” Eliot chuckled bitterly, he knew that all too well.

  “However, that price fails to do them justice. The empires of old are the ones who recognized their true value. That is to say, they were priceless, in fact before the genocide of ignorance, an empire’s power was measured by the number of books in their grand library. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but I do believe the Crucible Empire lacks a grand library, is it not so?”

  “It is so,” Eliot admitted sharply.

  “Perhaps you can enlighten me, then. What could be worth more than this.” He flourished his hands to signal that he was referring to the library. Finally, Eliot couldn’t take it anymore.

  “You’re doing it all wrong!” he exploded.

  Councillor Bruno jerked back slightly in surprise. “Pardon?”

  Eliot stood up and gesticulated with his hands as he said, “Knowledge shouldn’t be restricted- it should be shared and appreciated for all that it’s worth! It should be used to further the lives of the many, not collect dust in the coffers of the few.” Councillor Bruno was standing now, too.

  “We are not restricting knowledge, we are protecting it from those who seek to destroy it,” he argued.

  “Then that book didn’t just tell me that sorcery was a restricted subject?” counter Eliot.

  Councillor Bruno sighed and went to pinch the bridge of his nose before he realised he was wearing an animal skull and lowered his hand. “I take it that you have yet to learn about the genocide of ignorance?”

  “Oh, so now I can learn history from you? What changed?” Eliot complained.

  “I was unaware that you had no knowledge of it. It is your birthright as a warlock to know your history.”

  “I’m all ears,” he seethed.

  Councillor Bruno fell back into his chair before starting, “Roughly eight hundred years ago, the Feral and Human continents entered a golden age. There were no wars, the only competition was purely intellectual. At that time, magic and sorcery were practically near perfection, and there were tens of thousands of mana users in every empire. During this time, the most prominent archmages of each empire came together to form The Tower of Babylon. It served as the most prestigious school in all of history, but its main purpose was to achieve the ultimate spell. It is said that they were attempting to create a spell that would give them the power of the gods themselves.

  “Suddenly, fifty years after its creation, The Tower of Babylon was razed to the ground by a cataclysmic disaster. Everyone and everything were reduced to ashes, absolutely obliterated. We have it on good accounts that it was due to the backfire of a powerful ritual, perhaps even the ultimate spell itself. However, the empires of that time believed it to be the smiting of the gods, punishing us mortals for attempting to reach their level.

  “Eventually, they descended far enough into mania that they believed the gods would smite them next if they didn’t extricate themselves from the arcane. Every empire across the continent moved to wipe out any trace of magic, sorcery, or the knowledge of either. And, in their ignorance, they judged things such as mathematics and philosophy as arcane scripture. Not only did they cull the arcane bloodlines to near extinction, they ignorantly thrusted themselves back into the dark ages of history, technology, and science!”

  Eliot sat back down wide eyed. He knew all about the founding of the Crucible Empire and its rivalry with the Kirlhandil Empire, but the world history he could get his hands on was extremely limited. Now, it all made sense. The reason why there were so few mages, even less so warlocks, when there were schools that spit them out by the hundreds was because they were recovering from the genocide of ignorance. He wondered why there were little to no mages among the guard, why the only libraries he had heard of were the academy’s and the royal palace’s, why magic disciplines were applied instead of intricately woven into society, why most peasants were oblivious to what magic even was, why there weren’t any grand arcane structures, why new runes were being discovered every day, why there were still incomplete or undiscovered schools of magic, why most people knew how to read but didn’t know any math past multiplication, why every time he’s ever read scientific prose it was labeled under arcane text, why arcane items were so rare, why there are so few recorded historical magic figures, and so much more.

  He had assumed that it was the Crucible Empire’s infancy at fault, after all it has only been an empire for two hundred thirteen years now, that’s nothing compared to the likes of the Demihuman Dukedom. It has been around for literal ages and has survived all sorts of political and historical upheaval. But, in reality, the empires of today were all vestigial shells of their former arcane selves.

  The realization, the simple act of having an answer, filled him with energy. “Don’t you get it? That’s exactly why we should be sharing knowledge. Just because they failed once doesn’t mean we have to stop trying,” Eliot ardently opined.

  “What you do not seem to understand is that history tends to repeat itself,” Councillor Bruno harshly shot him down.

  “I’m not saying we don’t learn from their mistakes,” he clarified. “This time, we don’t put all of our eggs in one basket. We establish a practice of safety and surety above all else.”

  “We are unable to learn from their mistakes if we have no idea what they did wrong. At most you are making another misguided attempt at the impossible,” countered Councillor Bruno.

  “Then instead of trying again, you’re going to aimlessly float on your city until someone else does it for you?” he accused.

  “We are not aimlessly floating. We have no anchor because we are in search of The Archwarlock,” Councillor Bruno defended their actions.

  “What the Abyss is The Archwarlock?”

  “The Archwarlock is the one who inherits the powers of the Primeval Warlocks.”

  “And who or what are the Primeval Warlocks?” Eliot asked in annoyance.

  “They are the originals, the first warlocks to walk the earth. Legend has it that they could perform preeminent feats such as rip a city out of the earth,” Councillor Bruno explained with smirkish body language.

  “Fine,” Eliot waved, “Then, what happens after you find and induct this ‘archwarlock’?”

  Councillor Bruno shook his head as he said, “You are mistaken. We intend to serve The Archwarlock. They carry our radix, how could we do otherwise?”

  “What happens if they want to exterminate the mundane bloodlines for revenge?” Eliot queried.

  “We do their bidding,” Councillor Bruno answered flatly.

  “How is that any different than blindly following a god?”

  “It is our inexorable fate as mortals to follow.”

  Eliot laughed in disbelief. “Here I thought the higher educated warlock would be cogent.”

  “It seems that we have come to an impasse,” Councilor Bruno sighed. “I would love to continue this conversation at a later date, however I need your answer. I cannot spend much more time on this.”

  Eliot silently stewed. “I refuse,” he gave his final answer.

  “Very well.” Councillor Bruno stood up, as did Eliot, and offered his hand. “I suggest you visit the Town of Daervain. It is near and something tells me that you would enjoy the trip.”

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  “Oh, what tells you that?” Eliot asked while shaking his hand.

  “You will have to see for yourself.”

✧✧✧

  Eliot bounded through the Leaf Forest like an uncaged beast. The fact of the matter is: he wasn’t doing enough. In the past year, all he’s accomplished is a bare minimum level of skill in a martial art and barely enough magical expertise to scratch the surface. A series of revelations was exactly what he needed to kick it into high gear. He’s had a deep seated hunger for growth and novelty since the day he was born, it was time to indulge that drive like he had never done before.

  The sun was reaching out to greet the horizon, long since covered up by the canopy, by the time he made it to the Town of Daervain. It was the least developed settlement out of the seven in the Leaf Forest, as well as the deepest. Situated in an artificial clearing, the town relied on skulls and corpses mounted on pikes to keep the animals away. Eliot figured that they favored a hunting and tribalistic lifestyle, which meant they almost certainly wouldn’t have any inns.

  His judgment was instilled by the fact that they had a few parties of hostile stone weaponed guards roving the town’s borders, chances were they weren’t on the look out for any humans. Once he snuck past the patrols, he saw what Councillor Bruno was talking about.

  Strapped to a large stake with a mountain of sticks at its base was an idiosyncratic man. He had long pointed ears but with a light tan complexion no kind of elf could reach. Adding to the eccentricity, he had curly, medium length sky blue hair and his closed eyes combined with his lack of struggle gave off a staid aura. An obstreperous crowd rallied at his feet, holding up lit torches and chucking the occasional stone.

  Eliot chuckled. Communal burning of supposed heretics at the stake was his personal most hated method of execution, especially since it was almost always for a xenophobic reason. Councillor Bruno gathered more insight on his character than he thought. Although he was tempted to pull some explosive theatrics, he knew if he did that he would have to kill every last one of them or else they would pursue him throughout the entire night.

  Unfortunately, thanks to his novice sorcery and restricted magic, he had to take semi-drastic measures. After procuring a torch from someone in the crowd, he lit a few of their houses on fire. Eliot patiently waited until they focused their efforts on putting the fires out before cutting the rope holding the man aloft and running away with him thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He fled the scene fueled by mischievous pleasure and only stopped running some time later when the man spoke up.

  “You can put me down now, we should be at a safe distance.”

  Eliot stopped in his tracks and put him down. “Right,” he laughed sheepishly.

  He took out a dagger from the dungeon and got to work. A few minutes later, they were sitting across from each other at a fire in a small manually deforested campsite, roasting sun bathed raptor meat.

  “So, what were they killing you for anyway?” Eliot asked while rotating the meat.

  “They were under the impression that I was a man-beast hybrid, and they do not like the local beasts.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, who and what are you?” Eliot broached as politely as he could. “You definitely aren’t a human.”

  “My name is Aneus and I am an azaren. Though, I take it you have no knowledge of my race,” he shared.

  “None whatsoever.”

  Aneus lightly smiled as he explained, “You can think of azaren as spiritually inclined humans with elf ears and gnome hair. To summarize the differences, every azaren has at least one supernaturally enhanced sense, a much longer lifespan, and perfect recall.”

  “Do you happen to know why no one knows that your race exists?” Eliot asked next.

  “Well, azaren have one fatal flaw. We are biologically infertile and can only reproduce via a strenuous essence mixing ceremony that can only be performed during solar eclipses. It may sound unbelievable, but that is the unfortunate truth. Because of this the azaren population has never grown past two thousand, and after our culling during the first Demihuman War, we never recovered.

  “My home was the last azaren settlement in existence, and it was destroyed by a super volcano. A small group of us managed to leave the island on a boat, only to be assailed by kraken…” The fire flickered across his grim face. He took a deep breath and continued, “I woke up on the north eastern coast of this continent, I have no idea what became of the rest.”

  “...Wow, I can’t even imagine how depressing that would be,” Eliot truthfully expressed his condolences. He genuinely smarted at the extinction of a sentient race, at the hands of a coincidental natural disaster no less.

  “Enough about me,” he broke the tension. “Please, let me be privy to who my savior is.”

  “You can call me Eliot. I’m a mage who just found out they’re also a warlock, but right now I’m returning from a test for my martial arts teacher where I can’t use magic.”

  Aneus locked eyes- still closed- with Eliot’s and said, “I sincerely thank you for saving me, Eliot. In doing so, you have given my race a second chance.”

  “I just did what I thought was right,” he waved the compliment. “Oh- the raptor’s ready.” He handed a caramelized brown leg to Aneus and took the other one for himself. He couldn’t stop himself from audibly groaning when he bit into the chicken, it was everything he thought it would be.

  Seeing Eliot’s enjoyment, Aneus bit into the leg and exclaimed, “Oh wow, this is amazing.”

  Eliot smiled and said, “Don’t get used to it. Most of our food tastes pretty horrible.” They took a break from talking to properly savor the scrumptious meal.

  After, Aneus revived their conversation by saying, “I mean what I said earlier. If any way for me to pay my debt comes to mind, please just ask.”

  “Well… how advanced was your race?” Eliot chanced.

  “Why, we were the most advanced out of the sentient races. I can’t say for sure if our superiority stands to this day, however I know for a fact that we were more advanced than you,” he answered before quickly adding, “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Eliot assured him. “Then, would it be too much to ask for knowledge?” Aneus adopted a placating smile.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that,” he sighed. “Before I was even conceived, I was chosen to be a keeper. From birth, keepers train their perfect recall to its full potential and ‘keep’ all the knowledge and secrets of our race. As a part of my vocation I took an oath to never bear my knowledge to an outsider.”

  Eliot suppressed a bitter grimace. Of course their knowledge is restricted.

  “However, in light of saving me and protracting the survival of my race, I will circumvent the oaths for you this once. I can give you insight into one of two options: the Law of Shadows and the Law of Space.”

  Eliot almost squealed in delight, but he throttled that feeling until it was completely suppressed. I can be excited later, I need a clear head for this.

  “How did you know I would be interested in those laws,” he questioned.

  “My enhanced sense is sight. I can see the beginning of a link between those laws and your soul,” Aneus explained.

  Although he spent time putting together a pros and cons list, he really knew his answer from the beginning. “Tell me about the Law of Shadows.” His shadows have been stuck at a plateau for a while now, with no clear way forward.

  “Good choice,” Aneus complemented with a knowing smile. “In truth, unless they are condensed, shadows don’t exist, they’re merely how your eyes perceive a lack of light.”

  Eliot was so shocked that he verbally reacted with, “Wait, what? But if shadows don’t exist, how can there be a law of shadows?”

  “There isn’t. What you attribute to that law is actually the Law of Light’s doing. Furthermore, when you manipulate shadows, even after condensing, you’re actually manipulating light. You add it when you want to take away shadow and you remove it when you want to add shadow.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. If it can be condensed, how does it not exist?” Eliot complained.

  “It’s the same principle as creating something that wasn’t originally there. In essence, it’s the lack of light given mass. In fact, condensed shadows are naturally occurring in the shadow plane, albeit in aqueous and gaseous states.”

  “So, this entire time I've been manipulating light? And the reason I reached a plateaued is because there’s nothing left to learn about shadows?” Eliot asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” Aneus confirmed. “If you wish to continue on your path, then your next step is light, not shadow.”

  They stayed mostly silent for the remainder of their time together, and parted ways once they reached the City of Leaves the next day. The first thing Eliot did was get a room, the sun was already set and he was hopelessly fixated on his most recent revelation.

  He sat at the edge of his bed and continued to think about it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find a flaw in Aneus’ explanation, but it was too hard to believe. He subconsciously trusted what his eyes told him more than what he knew to be true, and shadows looked real, especially condensed.

  Eliot sighed, about to call it a night, when he felt a stirring in his soul. Looking inward, he saw that the enlightenment stone was shining a brilliant white. After summoning it in his hands, its light dimmed to a soft glow. He learned through a few experiments that it would only glow when in his soul, but its brightness would change every time he put it back. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that it was reacting with another item in his soul, and tested his theory by summoning each item one by one with the stone in his other hand.

  He wasn’t exactly convinced his theory was correct, so he was caught completely off guard when the stone suddenly turned blinding. A minute later, after blinking the dots out of his eyes, the stone was nowhere to be found, it had disappeared without a trace.

  Eliot had no idea why or what it was doing, and he didn’t feel like figuring it out. Deciding to put it off for later, he turned to put his grimoire back in his soul. With a jolt, he realized that his grimoire was gone. Not entirely gone, but replaced by a tomb three times as thick with a completely white cover. On the front, it read, “A Hermit’s Guid to Light” in jet black letters.

  Eliot was pumped full of newfound motivation. He had literally memorized his grimoire of shadows front to back, the fact that it was gone didn’t mean anything. Before cracking open the equivocal book, he took a moment to feel the material, slide his hands across the letters, finger the stitchings, pinch the indented convergence of page and spine through the covers.

  The opening paragraph said, “I highly recommend you read my guide to shadows before you read this one. This is meant as the second volume in my guide to the Law of Light. If you have read the previous instalment, then you must be wondering why this is a sequel and not a stand alone. The truth is, There is no Law of Shadows, shadows are governed by the Law of Light because shadow and darkness is nothing but how human eyes communicate the lack of light to our brains.”

  Eliot was finally proselytized. Though he wanted to trust what Aneus said was true, he wasn’t going to blindly believe the words of a stranger without any proof. The Hermit- as Eliot referred to the author- was different. His words held major sway because he was Eliot’s only well of knowledge on shadows and the person he recognizes as a teacher.

  That was when the pain began. The grimoire thunked against the floor, his hands discarding it in favor of nursing his head. Full of clarity and understanding in one moment, on fire the next, as if someone had abruptly submerged his brain in a vat of boiling water. Eliot leaned forward, pressing against his forehead with a face contorted in a tortured grimace, when the pain started its spread. What originated as lively twitching transformed into unprecedented muscle condensation and growth that left his skin lagging behind. Soon enough, it felt as if all seven hundred of his skeletal muscles wanted nothing more than to rip him open. Eliot fell on his elbows and knees and screamed, but it was all in vain. The muscles responsible for speech were similarly taking part in rampant growth, all that escaped was a choked sputter of anguish. The penultimate composition of pain was a wave of obliteration that passed through every individual cell in his body, subsequently replaced by a wash of rejuvenating improvement that repeated in an infinite cycle, the pain and improvement growing exponentially after each iteration.

  What finally succeeded in breaking him was the blow to his soul. It was a recondite, unceasing, electrifying pain at the edges of his very being with enough reach to pulverize even the inner depths of his soul. It hit him like a freight train, forcing Eliot’s meager support to crumble under the sheer debilitation of an abrupt, consuming agony. Falling to his side, Eliot could do nothing but uselessly writhe and silently wail. Only when his brain was mush, his skin ruptured, and his soul was leaving his body did he succumb to unconsciousness.

  The next morning, he woke up with a start. He sat up only to realize that the pain was gone. In fact, he felt good. Eliot looked down at himself and flexed his arms. Not just good, he felt amazing. He practically floated off the ground, he was so light on his feet. Every single fiber of his being was overflowing with energy. Now that he was paying attention, his mind was alight with a crisp buzz of mental acuity, and, for some reason, he felt cleaner than he had all month.

  Eliot couldn’t help himself from bobbing on his feet or throwing out a few punches. His arms slid through the air faster than bullets and retracted before he knew they even left. Utterly empowered, he burst into a jump, only to hit his head on the ceiling with a nasty crash and fall back down, devoid of any pain whatsoever. He abruptly exploded into a mirth filled laugher, just realizing what was going on: he was a Demigod.

  After coming to that conclusion, he furiously packed up his belongings and rushed outside. In the process, he learned that his soul of unknown depth was now filled with an ocean of divine mana. Unfortunately, everything that was stored in it got disintegrated when the mana moved in. It was a very good thing that he didn’t have the presence of mind to store his grimoire.

  As he rushed out onto the street, Eliot was greeted with a brand new world view. Everything looked so much more intense. The bucolic woody smell perforated throughout the town was overpowering, every single person regularly minding their own business seemed to glow, the shadows cast by the eaves of the buildings whispered his name, the sun gained three new enigmatic shades, and it almost felt like the earth was shaking.

  He stopped in his tracks, looking down at the paved road. The earth was shaking. Eliot raised his head to take in the light emanating humans walking down the road, preoccupied with making it to their destination. None of them noticed. But it didn’t stay that way for long. The shaking rose by the second, swiftly matching the force of a small scale earthquake. Cracks in the stone, originating from deeper in the heart of the city, lanced through the road and continued further beyond. The people had long since descended into panic.

  Everything culminated in the sudden appearance of a gargantuan spider. It burst from the ground with a shriek, smashing through tens of stone structures without a care in the world, uplifting a curtain of rubble along with it that showered its surroundings in a roaring patter. Eliot stared up at it in awe. It was a type of spider he had never seen or heard of before. It’s only distinct feature were thick lines of blue that pulsed across its otherwise nondescript and smooth black haired exoskeleton.

  While the townsfolk descended into chaos, Eliot sprouted a beaming smile. The world just handed him a perfect opportunity to test his newfound strength on a silver platter. He bent his knees and launched into a sprint. Before he knew it, he was belatedly jamming his feet into the stone in order to stop himself, directly beneath the spider. He drew back his left fist, twisted his torso, and stepped back. He was putting everything he had into form one.

  His fist tore through the air and sunk into the beast’s body. After a second of delay from the sheer body mass of the creature, it was sent barrelling off its eight legs. It flailed as it dug a rut through the ground and crashed through building after building in a flash of blue. It only stopped after decimating the outer walls, ending up half buried under a mountain of rubble in the process.

  Eliot’s jaw hit the ground. He stood shocked at the level of destruction he had just produced. Then, he realized with a wince that in doing so he had destroyed half of the city.

  “Sorry about that,” he said to no one in particular before crouching down and leaping. His body soared through the air faster than was possible to fly with any sort of flying spell and his body was practically weightless. All he needed to renew his flight was a single, momentary step. He arrived at the spider’s resting place just as it excavated itself. Despite the power packed behind his punch, the spider didn’t seem to have suffered any damage aside from being temporarily dazed.

  The spider identified Eliot immediately, doing its best to run away, but Eliot was faster.

  “Not so fast,” he said while gripping its hind legs. The spider was helplessly stationary in his grasp, not for a lack of trying. Eliot braced his muscles and sent it hurtling through the air with a punt. He laughed at its misfortunate almost with a delirious intensity, on the power high of power highs.

  Then, he was slapped sober by the spider’s disappearance. One second, he could clearly make out its figure blotting out a bit of the sky, his recently enhanced eyesight making sure of it. The next, it was nothing but expansive blue horizon. Eliot hastily dashed into the forest, mentally mapping out its trajectory.

  He spent what must have been hours scouring the section of forest it should have landed in, accounting for the area it might have covered after landing. Throughout the search, he told himself that it was a giant spider, there was no way he could miss it. The only explanation is that it never landed in the first place. But, that led to speculating how it could possibly have vanished mid air, and Eliot loved to embrace the uncertainty of everything. Which meant he only managed to narrow it down to a few hundred potential possibilities. All in all, when he eventually relented in his endeavor, he was happy with how it played out because it gave him an interesting thought experiment to apply his sudden overflowing mental energy to.

  Eliot was reflecting on the amazing day he had while racing through the forest, no doubt scaring every animal in a twenty meter radius with the apex predator amounts of sound he was producing, when everything went black. He was only in the blissful void of aloof awareness for a split second before he woke up. He sat up in a start, only to realize he was back in the room he had slept in. He was gasping for breath, his heart racing from the previous night’s traumatic experience.

  What?

  Eliot stood up, taking a second that ended in relief to check he was still a Demigod, and looked around. Everything, from the crumple of the sheets to the precise position on the floor that the grimoire fell in, was the same. He ran down and burst out into the streets. The sun shone from the same angle, the city was in pristine mint condition, the same people walked down the streets, and, after two minutes, the tremors returned as well. Like he was rewatching a movie, everything unraveled in a predestined series of events.

  The shaking rose by the second, swiftly matching the force of a small scale earthquake. Cracks in the stone, originating from deeper in the heart of the city, lanced through the road and continued further beyond. The people had long since descended into panic.

  Everything culminated in the sudden appearance of a gargantuan spider. It erupted from the ground with a shriek, smashing through tens of stone structures without a care in the world, uplifting a curtain of rubble along with it that showered its surroundings in a roaring patter. Eliot stared up at it with rapidly progressing concern morphing his features. It was the spider he had seen just hours earlier. It’s only distinct feature were thick lines of blue that pulsed across its otherwise nondescript and smooth black haired exoskeleton.

  Eliot pocketed his hands and walked towards the eye of destruction with a frown. On his way, he tested his divine mana and found that he was as proficient in manipulating it as he was with his regular mana. In fact, using his law in general felt similar to using sorcery but with divine mana instead of the mundane variety.

  As a result of him taking his time, the spider was rampaging in a large zone of flattened rubble, surrounded by an encircling of brave guards ready to throw their lives away to provide the civilians with time to evacuate. Before the spider could decimate half of the armored men and women with a single sweep of its leg, chains of condensed shadow wound around each of its appendages, including its pedipalps, and forced it down into the misty marsh that its shadow had become. Rising from the ravenous murk of shadows came a spiked shackle that locked around its body before piercing through with a jolt, nailing it to the ground in the process.

  The guards soon realized that a Demigod level powerhouse had come to their rescue. The fastest of them were already in the middle of obsequious benediction by the time Eliot neared, but were immediately silenced by his malefic aura and fell over themselves to get out of his way. As he plunged forward, the swamp consumed his lower half, the bog hung from his shoulders like a cape, his hair gleamed a lurid pale, his irate frown of confusion morphed into a gastly mask, and his left eye radiated with light consuming darkness. He stopped in between its pedipalps and tilted his head up at the twelve violet beads it used as eyes.

  “What did you do to me?” he rasped.

  The spider obliviously thrashed against its bindings and clicklessly screeched its dismay. As if triggered by the raising of Eliot’s left hand, the smoke in the immediate vicinity of his hand condensed into inky liquid as it funneled together and solidified into a spike. He brutally shoved it into one of its eyes, sinking as deep as his grip would allow. The spider pitifully seizured against its restraints with squeals of pain.

  “I’ll ask you one more time.” He removed the spike, eliciting another brief cry and spewing some golden ichor from the smushed remains of its eye. “What did you do to me?” Eliot judged its restless twitching with no change in inflection. “Fine.”

  He stepped back, mostly out of the splash zone, and pressed his fingers together. At his snap, the chains sunk deeper into the void and the shackle tightened around its body like an ill fitting pair of pants. Having to compete with the sturdiness of the spider’s body, his divine mana was consumed at an astonishing pace, but his reserves seemed endless. The pressure mounted across the minutes, the spider’s body taking on the shape of a gourd, until it was rent asunder in an explosion of chitin, sparkling golden blood, and assorted tissue. But nearly the instant its body separated, everything went black.

  He was only in the blissful void of aloof awareness for a split second before he woke up. He sat up in a start, only to realize he was back in the room he had slept in. He was gasping for breath, his heart racing from the previous night’s traumatic experience.

  Eliot took a deep breath and sighed, calming his heart. Instead of getting up, he folded his legs under his body and meditated. Though it was much harder now that his mental energy had grown into a monster of its own, his assumption was proven correct when he opened his eyes ten minutes later without the occurrence of an earthquake. The spider could change its course of action, that was certain. Whether it was sentient, colluding with higher powers, or deliberately targeting Eliot was still up in the air.

  He stood up with conviction and the hint of a smile, ready to start his experiments. He spent a week doing just that. The spider never returned in that time and he learned a great deal of information, eventually narrowing down the possibilities to just two equally likely outcomes. As far as he knew, there were only four things that restarted the day: his death, the spider’s death, leaving the range of three hundred meters around Leaf City, or when it hit midnight. While testing that, he slowly vetoed one explanation after another until he decided upon two that he liked the best. Either, this was all the work of a master illusionist, or he was in a time loop.

  Illusions are a very unique form of magic, especially compared to the other fields. It is the only category of magic that directly affects the target. It is ordinarily impossible to do so because every creature with a mana pool also has an aura that blocks all forms of specialized mana. Even the unspecialized mana of an unspecialized mage becomes specialized once it is used to engrave upon reality. The only reason illusions can achieve this is because of the general illusion rune.

  The general illusion rune is a strand of symbols that bypasses the aura using a loophole in its tether to the physical body, at least that was the leading hypothesis, but turns the attached spell into an illusion. Meaning, an illusionist not only needs to master the usage of superfluous runes that increases immersion, but they also have to be proficient with whatever spell they’re turning into an illusion. Because of this, very few mages take the illusionist route or just dabble to try and mix up their attacks. In fact, the number one method of convincing your opponent that an illusion was true, taught to mages in training, was to first prove that you are capable of actually producing the effect of said illusions. If you can do it right, an illusionary fireball will hurt just as much as a real fireball, at a heavily discounted mana cost. The extremely small mana cost and ability to bypass the aura are the only two things that illusions have going for them.

  However, the aforementioned reasoning only applied to recent mages taught at one of the Crucible Empire’s schools. There were many conjectures and theories, but when it really came down to it no one in the Crucible Empire knows what or how an illusion works. If a foreign mage or particularly fortuitous mage with a truth revealing grimoire came along, who knew what they were capable of?

  Though Eliot didn’t know as much about time related spells, he assumed that the reason time spells didn’t exist could be attributed to the same lack of understanding, which meant an individual armed with the teachings of a far away land or archaic tome that somehow managed to survive the Genocide of Ignorance could be entirely capable of setting up time loops.

  Regardless of the repeating day’s true nature, Eliot was going to use it to his advantage. Even if it was an illusion, for it to work on him in the first place it would have to mimic reality in as many ways as possible for his brain to be convinced what was happening was real. That meant, most if not all he learned or did was directly applicable to real life. Just two days prior, he felt like he wasn’t progressing fast enough, but now he literally had an infinite amount of time with no distractions.

  Knowing the importance of a conducive learning environment, Eliot took his time finding a good place. After a few days, he settled on a place in the forest, a tree house. First, he would find a specific copse of trees, mold their top branches together, and create a foundational platform. Then, he would make a nice and cozy cottage with the majority of the space, making sure to leave him plenty of terrace space for whenever he felt like reading in the morning light or meditating in the breeze.

  Deciding to be seeped in nature was surprising to even Eliot himself. He usually hated anything and everything to do with nature, but recently with his enhanced senses he picked up on something deeper, well hidden beneath the vigorous facade. He couldn’t put it into words, but it was extremely calming and unintrusive. The best thing he could come up with to describe it was comparing it to Penelope. At first glance, she was another obnoxious, pious priestess of the Goddess of Life. But once you get to know her, she’s a truly good person while also fun to be around, not to mention she serves Gaia, not the Goddess of Life. Plus, the creation of the tree house was good sorcery practice in the beginning.

  Eventually, after taking care of everything else, he slipped into a routine. He placed an emphasis on getting better at sorcery, will impartation in particular, and getting a handle on the basics of his law. Of course, he continued to meditate and practice his martial art, but he knew any physical progress would just be reset once he got out of whatever he was in. Just like that, three months passed.

✧✧✧

  Eliot sat with his legs crossed under him, back straight, hands open and resting on his knees, trying his best to meditate. It was the day’s second attempt, he had gotten too frustrated the first time, so he took a break before trying again. Unfortunately, it looked like his efforts would be in vain. With a sigh, he stood up and stretched in preparation of going back inside.

  Recently, the lack of enthusiasm was getting to him. When he was first afflicted, he thought back to when he would complain about only being able to practice mana manipulation, before his fateful meeting with the spirit of Karl Favesh. Repetition is the mother of learning! his mother would say, among other things. Her vicarious enthusiasm was enough to keep him going for an extra few weeks, but now even that did little. After four months, his longing for his friends and the repetition was growing by the day. In particular, he would spend hours nowadays fantasizing about his date with Ellulia and their night in the forest.

  On the bright side, his abilities have grown by leaps and bounds. Now, as long as he worked from a base, the limits of his sorcery were the limits of his imagination, and there were even a few spells he could cast using nothing but mana and will.

  His law was where he saw the most growth and, disconcertingly, the only problem other than boredom. Besides the overall general improvements, his eyes were the only article of change. They now picked up on all sources of light. If there was even the tiniest photon in a pitch black room, he would see it. Not only did the sun look different and everything glowed, but his eyes evolved to see in darkness. He had honest to goodness darkvision, with the supposedly impossible ability to see color. By being able to recognize and interpret which molecular coloring agents made which color, his brain was able to assign color to objects without the reflection of light. But it wasn’t very useful because there was almost always some light present. Other than that, whenever he used his law to manipulate darkness, his left eye would turn into a black body, generating true black. Whenever he used his law to manipulate light, his right eye would shine as bright as a miniature sun, with all of the newly recognizable foreign shades.

  The problem rooted its ugly head when he first tried manipulating light using his law. For some reason, he had the feeling that it was fighting him. Because his will needed to wrestle for control, his light manipulation was sloppy at best and used almost thrice as much divine mana. At first, he hoped the problem was simply because of his unfamiliarity and slight prejudice towards light, he did consider himself a shadow mage after all. He found basic color theories and color systems amazingly fascinating, so it wasn’t a problem to spend all of his time rereading and internalizing the first few chapters of his grimiore to make sure he really understood it, but nothing helped.

  Eliot turned to go inside, when an airy feminen voice suddenly spoke inside his mind, “Bored already? I was hoping you would last a year at least.”

  Eliot wheeled around, locking eyes on the spider preening at the edge of his terrace. The spider was the very same that attacked the city, only the size of a watermelon- normal for most magical spider breeds- and glowing with a shade of sentience so bright that Eliot couldn’t believe he didn’t notice it earlier.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not here to fight,” it mentally communicated in the same voice, thick with an accent he knew he'd heard before but failed to place. The spider nimbly carried itself to the middle of the balcony and folded its hind legs, resting on its abdomen. After, a teacup with a specialized handle appeared on its right foreleg. It patiently sipped the tea, waiting for Eliot’s response.

  Eliot stood slightly taken aback. He had no idea how to respond to a telepathic spider capable of manipulating its size and creating time loops casually sipping tea in front of him after a vague opening line. It wants something from me, he concluded after recovering his wits. He reached into the door frame of his cottage, a chair flew into his hand, and he sat across from the spider with his legs crossed.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked with a bright smile.

  “It’s not a simple ask. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

  “You went as far as setting up a time loop, so I might as well entertain you,” he said.

  “Oh?” she prefaced. “How did you discern this was a time loop? It could be an illusion for all you know.”

  “Your light. You didn’t even bother investing in anything other than time magic. Your size control is an innate ability,” he answered truthfully.

  “Your understanding of your law is progressing nicely,” she complimented with a sip. She set her cup down as she said, “I’ll stop beating around the bush. I want you to take me as your familiar.”

  Eliot didn’t hide the fact that his smile turned genuine, who wouldn’t want a time spider as a familiar? “What’s the catch?”

  The spider tilted its body, looking him in the eyes. “I am Azomdeus, The First Abyssal Lord. The goddess of Life sealed me in my only earthbound avatar with The Staff of Muriel,” she dropped the bombshell.

  Eliot’s surprise surged under his facade, but he was completely unperturbed on the surface. “Let me guess, you want me to free you and help you invade the material plane, or you’ll kill me?.”

  “No, in fact I used the last of my divine mana reserves setting up the time loop and my regeneration is hardly enough to sustain it. I wouldn’t be able to kill you right now if I wanted to,” she shared.

  “Then why?” Eliot demanded.

  “You don’t understand. I don’t care about having power or being feared, I just want to take in a forest’s ambiance again. I just want to train a few baby griffons in some forgotten corner of the material plane overrun with nature. I’m tired of seeing the same red and black landscape, I’m sick of everyone around me trembling in my mere presence. Can you fathom how long it’s been since I’ve heard genuine laughter? Do you have any idea how much I miss normal animals? Every fucking organism in that place is a depraved murderer! I never wanted to sit upon an Abyssal Throne, I just wanted everything to stop trying to kill me on sight,” she ranted with delirium, her pedipalps furiously twitching. “The purpose of all of my so-called ‘invasions’ was trying to get home.”

  Eliot took a minute to digest her words and attempt to figure out what the rapidly shifting hues of light she emitted meant. Azmodeus took this time to calm down, sipping her tea again. “Then you want me to free you and, what, get you a bipedal body?”

  “Yes, preferably an elven female, though I suppose a male would be acceptable for temporary accommodations.”

  “Why me? I can think of three people off the top of my head more qualified than me to unseal you.”

  “The Staff of Muriel is the God of Sealing’s Champion Artifact. It can only be wielded by a being of physical divinity or a Demigod of Sealing, and only the staff itself can undo my seal. Originally, the only living mortal that could fulfil those requirements would be the Hero, but you seem to be an exception,” she explained.

  “Are you saying I have physical divinity?” Eliot asked.

  “I can’t speak to your origins, but yes. I can see it clear as day in your genes.” Eliot had no idea what him having physical divinity entailed, he just knew he would have a conversation with his parents the first opportunity he got. “Any other questions?”

  “Why do you want to be my familiar? I can only see it complicating things,” he said.

  “I have sat on the First Abyssal Throne and ruled the two Hells that come with it for countless millennia. Because of this, many of my powerful enemies would take this opportunity to kill me once and for all. As a spiritual being, I have no soul. If my avatar dies while I am sealed inside, then I will cease to exist,” Azmodeus told him.

  “But if you become my familiar, your avatar will turn half spiritual and reform if ever destroyed,” he finished.

  “Yes. I’ll give you a few days to think it over,” Asmodeus said while standing up on its eight legs, the tea cup disappearing.

  “There’s no need,” Eliot stopped her. “I’ll do it.” His words put the closest facial expression a spider could make to a smile on her face.

  The familiar spell was actually a basic ritual, and he was required to memorize it in the academy. After portalling into town for a quick chalk run and taking care of the mana contract, he got down to it. He drew an infinity shaped ritual matrix and connected the runes to the center of each circle, where he and Azmodeus took their places. Eliot activated the ritual and sat back to enjoy the show.

  Where he poured in his mana, a stream of hot pink slowly flowed through the ritual matrix, gradually speeding up until the entire line glared a constant pink. Then, the color and speed of the mana leached into the inner rune scheme, powering it up. Along with the sudden illumination of the lines surrounding Asmodeus, she started to melt into a pool of pure crimson mana. Once she was completely converted, a small stream abruptly separated from the pool, speeding through the matrix. As it twisted across into Eliot’s circle, the lines surrounding him flared to life and funneled the mana towards him, where it merged with his aura. The merging only lasted for a few seconds before the pool ran dry and all that remained was a gaseous bright green orb. Suddenly, the two circles of the infinity sign merged into one, forcing the orb through his semi tolerant aura and settling it in his spiritual body.

  When Eliot opened his eyes, he could feel extreme levels of joy coming from Azmodeus. Though he was sure of it before, now it was confirmed that everything she told him was true. Familiar and mage shared senses, meaning she could feel what it was like to be in a bipedal body again.

  “Lay down on the wood!” she said in his head, almost exactly like before. He softly straightened his spine against the floor of his terrace, feeling the smooth fullness with outstretched arms. The sensory experience left Azmodeus in a puddle, Eliot could practically imagine the pleasure jolting through her like electricity, silently doing his best not to laugh at how weird the entire occurrence was.

  After nearly an hour of exposing himself to random stimuli, Eliot forced her to manifest in her spider avatar so that he could take his turn. Having contradictory sensory inputs for all of his five senses, especially given that he was subjected to the senses of a telepathic spider, was wildly disorienting. Thankfully, the extra mental processing power he gained after his transformation helped him get used to it in less than a few minutes. The only sense he couldn’t fathom was her telepathic awareness, all of his thoughts echoed and jumbled together at first, and it was particularly frustrating that though he could feel it he couldn’t control it. Eventually, he gave up on it all together and got Azmodeus to end the time loop.

  Everything went black. He was only in the blissful void of aloof awareness for a split second before he woke up. He sat up in a start, only to realize he was back in the room he had slept in. He was gasping for breath, his heart racing from the previous night’s traumatic experience. Eliot was developing a deep hatred for waking up unsettled. But unlike the other times, there was an ego orbiting his soul.

  “Why were you sleeping on the floor?” Azmodeus asked him.

  “It’s better for your back,” he grumbled.

  Eliot didn’t bother with checking out. He packed up his things and ran out of the door, searching for a good launch point. When he found it, he sat down and took his time to make sure he did it correctly. Slowly, deep purple light generated around him and degraded in states of matter until it solidified. He anchored one end to a building on his left and the other on the opposite side of the street, creating a half circle that wrapped around the small of his back. Ignoring the gathering of gawkers, Eliot started taking steps backwards, eventually drawing the elastic band of light taut. Then, like a pebble in a sling, he was sent soaring, the light dissipating the second he stopped using his law.

  Now that gravity hardly mattered to him, flinging himself faster than a cannonball was a very convenient travel method, he arrived at Relice Fortress in less than an hour. On the way, he had an enlightening conversation with Azmodeus.

  She was an elven female that lived during a time when the elven race wasn’t estranged. How long ago that was, not even she knew. Her life’s purpose was to be a beast tamer, or translated to elvish, an auzsnue. Ever since she was young, she had the uncanny ability to interpret an animal’s feelings based on seemingly nothing at all, and she enjoyed their company more than any person’s.

  Though Eliot was skeptical, according to her, she lived a mostly sin free life, training and caring for magical beasts, occasionally sending them out to help defend her home. The only bad thing she’s ever done is buy from and sell to the magical beast black market. Prompted by her passion and humored by Eliot’s insatiable lust for knowledge, she went on to explain how magical beasts were the backbone of the elven empire’s economy. The elves worked out a myriad of uses for each and every component of any magical beasts they could get their hands on, from witching to magical items and building materials. She specifically mentioned how their famous Cloaks of Elvenkind are made out of pseudo dragon scales, and the breathtaking Ceintiphos is inlaid with the gemstones of a specialty breed of earth elementals, that was why its color changed with the seasons and weather.

  Their interaction was cut short by a blanket of white light that wreathed Relic Fortress. Eliot continued much more circumspect, on foot after noticing it. Something about the light was stifling and disconcerting, he didn’t want to chance it. Not only that, but a large portion of Relice Fortress’ buildings were laid to waste. Using a mix of sorcery and his law, he settled on a floating disk of condensed darkness high in the sky, only a few meters away from Relice’s wall on a horizontal axis. Getting a closer look at the light and movement in the fortress, he realized that the light was lingering trauma from a destructive event that blended with the concealing shade of light that enshrouded a huge mountain on the edge of Relice’s sphere of influence.

  Considering that someone went through the trouble to hide it, that mountains didn’t even start until Vicido Fortress, three settlements away, and that the only mountains the Feral Continent had that big would be near the metropolis or in the Feral Lands, it was obvious that the mountain was artificially made, or simply moved from its original location. The tragic state that Relice Fortress currently sported was also interesting, since whatever it was caused lasting fluctuations in the Law of Light and most certainly other laws. Under normal circumstances, he would have been all over this. But he was getting sick and tired of this test, it’s stopped him from delving deep into extremely interesting things one too many times by now.

  Luckily, because of the reconstruction efforts, the portal to the metropolis was sustained by experts from the Mage’s Association. Stepping foot through the portal was a wonderous thing. His scenery changed from the hectic buzzing of a massive and directed work force to crowded streets, choked intersections, and large, uniform buildings made out of glimmering smooth stone that blocked out the sky like a volleyball player blocking their side of the court, sprinkled with qualities of higher infrastructure that Eliot found oh so dazzling.

  Out of reflex, he stopped to take in a deep breath, immediately regretting it. His diaphragm screamed at him to expel the acrid, noisome, utterly squalid air he had just inhaled, expounded by his increased senses to unimaginable levels. Eliot ran to the side of the street and upchucked whatever remained of the orange feathered raptor. Disgustingly, the smell and taste of his own vomit was better than the air. He vowed to himself that his first project when he got his magic back would be to increase the air quality. How the Abyss does Ellulia stand it? He wondered with a grimace.

  As he was leaning over and adding to the filth accumulated on the sides of the street, a voice called out to him, “Eliot! Over here!”

  He looked up, surprised to see an animated Cherry further down the street wildly wave her arms above her head. Although he wasn’t in the mood, after weighing the pros and cons of annoying her, he jogged over with a cheerful smile.

  Before he could say anything, Cherry said, “It’s an emergency, someone in the alley needs magical help!” Eliot couldn’t provide strictly magical help, but he doubted he would be useless, so he ran into the alley she indicated, only to find it empty.

  “I don’t see anyone.” He turned around and considered, “Maybe they le-” He cut himself off when Cherry abruptly lunged at him with something metal in her hands. He jumped back, but she was faster. Faster than Eliot, a Demigod. That realization alone stole his ability to react.

  Block-like bronze monocles clamped around his wrists, specially sized to fit his lean proportions. A singular rune flared to life on its connective rectangle the instant the clamps locked. Suddenly, everything went insufferably numb before a debilitating wave carrying a shark of disorientation ate him up and drowned him in an ocean of unconsciousness. Eliot collapsed, caught up in a violent fit of seizures and excessive frothing at the mouth.

  Cherry smiled at her handiwork, then pushed her lips into a frown and rested her hands on her hips in a challenging stance. “I told you I could handle it, you didn’t need to waste your time with this,” she directed at the man Eliot had failed to notice, casually leaning against the wall nearby.

  “I didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. Mages are slippery bastards,” Death’s Son told her for the third time that day. He walked out of the shadows and stepped on Eliot’s face, digging his boot in for good measure. “Especially this one,” he finished with a triumphant sneer.