It took longer than I had expected. Three weeks have gone by before the first of the group began to catch on to the lessons. It appears living in a world where magic was fictitious all your life makes it difficult to wrap your mind around sensing mana and casting spells.
The first to catch on were the siblings James and Eliza. Eliza, appearing to be quite the fantasy fanatic, cast Soulspeak first with her brother following a couple of days later. Thankfully, once a person was able to cast their first spell, the rest came instinctively as their body learned to wield mana. However, this only went to a point. After all, nothing could substitute hard work. They were still leagues away from forming their cores. I was getting closer, however.
My meridians were expanding less and less. It was a bright light in my somber mood. I was getting irritable and more prone to violence, getting waspish when I felt like people weren't respecting my leadership. I managed to catch myself and apologize, blaming it on the stress. Other times, I felt cold and detached, like everything before me was an ingredient for experimentation or a pawn to further my goals. I distracted myself with training myself and others. I trained people in martial arts while Asha focused on magic and weaponry. She used a rapier as her primary weapon, but had enough knowledge to teach them the basics of how to handle a spear or bow.
There were a few monster sightings along with a couple of human interactions. Some begged for supplies or bartered, some joined with the group. A family of six began to join us, but as I told them what Asha and I were, they quickly departed in fear. It was sad to see, but better to be upfront about that.
Soon, we were satisfied enough to leave the group. Our defenses were as good as they were going to get, and our people were trained enough that they wouldn't be slaughtered by the monsters we’ve seen so far. I decided that along with Maya, we would take James, his sister Elizabeth, and a man in his late twenties called Carl. Carl was a park ranger for the nature park down south. He was a survival enthusiast and would be handing on the trek. The two siblings on the other hand had pestered and begged me to come along. Since they were our most proficient magic users among the humans, I relented.
Frank looked worried, “Ya’ll come back safe, ya hear?”
I nodded with a smile, “Do not worry Frank, Asha assures us that it is unlikely there will be anything too dangerous on the route.”
Asha cleared her throat, “To be clear, I also said that would be the case normally. Who knows what could be out there with this planet shuffle.”
“The point is to allay their worries, Asha.” She simply shrugged. We departed with our farewells and headed east. Thankfully, with the enormous mountain looming over Nashville, it would be quite trying to lose our way. I led them to the nearby highway entrance and spoke, “We’ll take the four-forty parkway until it spits us out on highway forty. After that we’ll have to take it most of the way. Should be safer as people should be sticking to the buildings. Any monsters will likely be doing the same in search of food and shelter.”
Maya asked, “We got an ETA till we get there darlin’?”
“Hard to tell with the mountain so big. I cannot accurately perceive how far it is. The terrain is so screwed up. Expect us to be gone for a few days, perhaps a week. I am not sure how long we will stay in the city, if we are even allowed inside.”
There was a collective groan, “This is gonna suck.” mumbled James.
I grinned, “For you mortals maybe. Do not despair, there is no rush. We will take breaks as needed.”
I had put plenty of food for the others so we could stay out for a week if needed. The only limiting factor is that I do not want to leave the people back at base alone for too long. “I’ve been pondering a few things. I think the best course of action is, once and if we are able to convince them to take you in as an apprentice, we will leave you here along with whoever wishes to stay until you learn enough that you can create sufficient devices. We will get a timeline should we prove successful, but my guess is that, assuming there is no way to send messages, we would visit every other week to check in on you. Asha and I will do that alone as it would be a much faster trip. The other thing I was thinking about was a proper name for this new world. It is no longer just Veru nor is it Earth. I contemplated calling it some combination of the two, but nothing sounded quite right. I settled on Midgard.”
There was the sound of general agreement. Eliza stated, “It’s a little blasé, but it works. Better than coming up with some random fantasy sounding name for a planet, or worse, a NASA name like Gliese 667 Cc.”
Her brother laughed, “Yeah, doesn’t really fit the ‘blade and sorcery’ aesthetic.”
“I think it’s a fine name, Master.” Asha complimented.
“By the way, you keep calling him Master. What’s up with that? Never got the story.” Carl requested.
Asha looked at me for permission and I nodded, “I actually would like to hear that as well.”
Asha took a breath as we walked along the highway, “Well, it began in our world of Veru. Master Lucien Maxwell was a necromancer known to the world as the Lord of Blood for his unique mastery over blood. I call him Master because I was once a succubus bound to him.” Some raised eyebrows were sent in my direction. Asha quickly continued, “It isn’t what you believe, trust me, I was shocked as well. Imagine being a succubus and having a master that doesn’t touch you. No, his attention was only in his work. He needed an assistant that was absolutely loyal and was skilled in illusion and deception. Succubi are quite skilled in illusions, more so than most Helkin.”
“Helkin?” Asked Maya.
Asha nodded, “The demonic races. See, Master Maxwell was on the cusp of breaking into the Summit stage. If you recall from your lessons, the steps on the Path to Heaven is the Core formation, Foundation, Pillars, Bastion, Pavilion, Palace, Summit, then Ascension. To climb to the Summit you need to bring your Palace into reality. This is extremely difficult and dangerous to do. There are many ways to accomplish this. For necromancers, a common tactic is to create a phylactery and become a lich, I don't fully understand how it helps, but Master was sure it would. However, Master was not satisfied with such a simple vessel. You see, if a phylactery is destroyed and a lich is slain, then that is true death and you move on to the afterlife like normal, whatever that may be. Master saw this as a weakness, a faulty product of inferior mages. So, he began to craft a special and unique relic. This relic was so heavily enchanted with special runes that, along with a ritual he created, would fuse into his soul. This means that he would be his own phylactery and so long as his soul persists, which a soul is nigh indestructible, he would continuously be reformed. He called this relic the Vessel of the Uroboros.”
Pain. Pain like no other shot through everything. Every limb, every cell, every atom, my very soul was on fire. Something deep within my being squirmed, slithering and twisting upon itself. Mana burst from me similar to when I was awoken by Asha. Mana tinged the deep red of arterial blood raced as a haze towards the sky twisting and solidifying into the symbol in my eye high in the air. I screeched, a sound no human man could make, glass shattered, and everyone grabbed at their ears. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and blissful oblivion took me.
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~Lucien~
“Asha, how long until the barrier fails?”
The voluptuous temptress glowered at me behind sweat drenched ruby hair. “The same as last time, Master, minutes at best. It is not any easier to resist the Inquisitors with this prattle.”
I know not why I put up with her snark. I sighed, alas, other servants were not as quick witted, nor as mentally sturdy as the succubus. My eyes widened as my steady hand carved the final rune, “Ha! It matters not that the servants of that vile goddess beckons for my head, Little Carnelian. They are too late. The ritual circle is complete, and the Vessel is bound. All there is to do is absorb it.” Mana so dense that the weave itself became visible in front of me as I chanted to focus my will.
Normally, I would not be so amateurish as to chant spells, but I was performing a miracle that Elia herself would choke with envy. Not only was I performing two six level spells, but I was also conducting a ritual as well. The Vessel, my prized accomplishment, in the form of an obsidian serpent twisting in on itself in a figure eight was swallowing its own tail. It was trimmed in gold with ruby-like gems for its eyes. In fact, these were the condensed and crystallized blood of hundreds of people. Mithril did not glitter as my creation did. It began to rise in the air as the spell completed.
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The infant sized statue grew animated, slithering in that figure eight pattern, its eyes glowing. The ritual chamber, my last bastion, was cast in a blood-red light. The statue’s movement grew faster and faster as it floated towards my chest. It shimmered and turned insubstantial, ethereal. Like hovering blood, it flowed into me, I cried out in pain. Blooming from my very soul, an energy I was just beginning to sense, was agonizing pain. Molten steel flowed from my heart and through my entire circulatory system.
The scream broke Asha’s attention and the barrier outside the barred door shattered alongside the door itself. Asha yelped as she was blown backwards. A new pain erupted from my chest as the haze finished being absorbed into me. I looked down and saw a radiant, golden spear protruding from my chest. I coughed up blood as fluid filled my lungs. A resonating female voice boomed from my blown defenses, “Vile necromancer, Necros Tyrant Maxwell. I have come at the behest of my Lady Elia. You are to relinquish your life unto her judgment.”
“Master!” cried out Asha. The High Elf Inquisitor Liara M’yee Na’taal cast her gaze to my beloved assistant and sneered, ready to turn her to ash in holy light. With a gesture, I banished Asha from this plane to her home realm. It would not do for such a useful assistant to be killed.
Liara clicked her tongue in disappointment, “No matter dark one. Your detestable acts end here.”
I laughed a wet burbling chuckle, “Is that what you think lapdog? You failed your goddess. A touch too late.”
She scoffed, “So you completed your fall to Lich-hood, I offer you my congratulations. It does not matter as you die today whether you face true death now or when we destroy your phylactery. It must be in this room.”
A deep rumbling laugh emerged from me, wracking me with pain I paid no heed to. The cackle roared from my throat, growing to a crescendo, “So, not even the bitch Elia has realized what I accomplished on this day. No, my quest for ascendancy does not end today Elvara. We shall meet again, again, and again no matter how many times you or whatever whelp Elia sends for my head.” I finally turned to face her. She gasped in confused horror as she met my eyes. They were a deep scarlet that emitted matching light. Normally a lich’s necromantic mana was a corrupted purple.
My laughter subsided into a puzzled expression as I looked down at my chest. No, it was not the spear that was slowly burning me with holy fire, it was something within the depths of my being. I read about and even met with several liches that told me what to expect of the process. I was to become numb; a comforting cold was to emerge from my core. My eyes widened to match hers in horror. Something was wrong with the Vessel. It was changing my soul, twisting into something strange, something hungry.
It was Liara’s turn to laugh, “What troubles you lich? Did you overestimate your skills and fail in creating your spell? Was all your boasting for naught?”
Pressure was growing in my core as power rushed from my soul, destabilized by the mutation, or whatever may be happening to me. Black, gold, and bloody red cracks started to cover my skin like a parched salt flat. It was then that Liara sensed what was happening and ordered her comrades to flee. It was far too late.
Time froze. Then, there was a cataclysmic explosion as the hyper condensed and purified core of a newly born Grandmaster went supercritical and burst. At the last second, Liara put up her strongest barrier. The last thing I saw was an enormous red symbol embossed on the heavens. A writhing snake devouring its tail.
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~Vlad~
Thunder flashed outside the keep as Vlad III of Wallachia stared down at the beautiful woman before him. She, apparently named Asha, claims that it was thanks to her that the Hungarians agreed to assist Vlad in returning to his rightful rule. If she insists on becoming a concubine, he shall have her share the same fate as those damnable Turks. His dear Justina would be most displeased at him. Instead, she requested a blessing as well as some sort of binding ceremony to become his faithful servant. He allowed this as she had revealed information of his deal with the Hungarians that no one but those in the very room the deal was sealed with should know. Either she tells the truth, or she is a spy so skilled it would serve him greatly to have her loyalty.
She approached and took his hand. She bowed her head, touching it to her forehead. She began to mutter what Vlad assumed to be a prayer. With her final word, he doubled over in pain. The scheming witch must have poisoned him or otherwise the muttering was no prayer but some satanic black magic. He had too much wine for him to trust the words of this assassin. He attempted to order her agonizing death. The horrors this bitch would face would cause her entire family line to fall insane with pain.
He felt something twist inside of him, his instincts immediately telling him that he was observing his soul as it wringed itself. Blood poured from the innermost depths of his being, tainting the white mortal soul he had all his life. He felt something, some other being questing out, searching for something to latch onto. It was hungry, but otherwise a blank slate in the form of a self-cannibalizing serpent. It grabbed onto him. Who he was, who he will be, every moment and every cruel act he performed on his fellow man. The oceans of blood that flowed at his feet. It saw that evil and it devoured it, became it.
As his soul twisted, so too did his body. His senses sharpened, adding to the soul wrenching pain. His teeth elongated and became a forest of ivory needles. He grew pale, black veins pressed against his skin. Vlad was something no world had seen before. He was powerful. He was reborn. I was thirsty.
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~Victor~
I floated in a void of inky darkness. A pulsing, deep red light, like a dying pulse, illuminated two figures before me. I could faintly make out several silhouettes in the distance but they were little more than shadows. The two in front of me were easily visible. One was a thin man, pale from spending decades locked away in study. Half his face missing, showing a bare skull with a glowing red orb in the eye socket. The other was a muscular and regal man. The countenance of a leader was overshadowed by the twisted evil he had committed reflected in his form. He bore pointed ears and gray skin with black veins thrumming below the surface. Teeth like a demonic angler fish stained red with the blood of the innocent. Black sclera glared at me with blood-red irises. One thing connected the three of us and that was the serpent in our right eye.
Lucien spoke first in Verum, a scratchy and reedy voice, “It is time to reunite with your true self. Bow before the mighty lich Lucien Maxwell, the Necros Tyrant. I will take us to the heights of godhood and beyond the Mythic realm. You are but a mortal and ignorant of magic.”
Vlad then retorted in Romanian, his voice a deep hissing bass, “No, human. Do not listen to this decrepit skeleton. He failed, dying to the paltry servants of a half rate goddess. I am king. It took an army and a skulking assassin years to slay me. Even to this day, I stalk the nightmares of mortals. I shall control our body and the world will run red with a feast in our honor."
Lucien shook his head, “Why struggle Victor? You are merely fighting yourself, and why? Those people, they fear you, will kill you or sell you out when you are no longer useful to them. You were going to abandon them anyway once they could protect themselves. You do not need to worry about anything, rest now. I am already so close to taking over, it is only a matter of time my dear descendant.”
Both their wills attempted to crush mine as the dozens of other faceless lives watched on, indifferent to the outcome. It finally made sense, my existential crisis, the odd dichotemy between my mood swings. There was a battle going on in my soul, Tepes and Maxwell were both trying to take over my body, not that my soul's memories were slowly awakening or something. My entire being throbbed in pain like a cavity being stabbed with a hot needle. Pressure that surpassed the depths of an ocean began to erode my defenses. Perhaps they were right, I can’t do this. I’m just some loser who got shot. Who was I to think I could help anyone, I can’t even help myself. Maxwell could bring this world to a golden age of magical advancement. Dracula could protect the weak by devouring the cruel.
I thought of my mother, the look of disappointment and embarrassment she had when my brother stumbled in one night, drunk and high. The idiot had driven here and she wasn’t even angry at the fact he was inebriated, she was furious he risked the lives of innocent people by driving in that state. She slapped the shit of him, and he was too drunk to put up a fight. He never stopped making poor choices, but that was the last time he drove under the influence.
I grit my teeth and grimaced a feral smile. I glared at the two powerful personalities. The pressure was immense, I could barely hold on, yet there was a glimmer of hope. A saving grace that protected my crumbling defenses. These two were not allies, they were fighting each other as much as they were me. In fact, they were more focused on the other, already writing me off as defeated. They thought they were hot shit, “Y’all really don’t know who you’re fucking with? I ain’t backing down to either of you fucking disappointments. You both trample the weak, one for his ambition and the other for power and simple lust for suffering. Neither of you fuckwits are getting my body.” My will sharpened and my defenses turned to tungsten. I pushed out and slowly crushed them, Maxwell grimacing and Vlad snarling. “Look at the two of you, one so blinded by the greed of power that he didn’t even care about the loyal friend who spent literal lifetimes trying to get him back.” This caused Lucien to flinch, his resolve crumbling and his will retreated several paces. “And look at little Dracula, his legacy is one of terror and agony. You aren’t feared anymore, you’re a mascot, a villain that gets defeated at the end of the book. Do you even have a shred of humanity left? Do you even give a shit about the wife and children that lived on after you died? I know you did because they were human, you didn’t turn them, you didn’t inflict that curse onto the ones you loved.” Like that, the will of the king of vampires withered like a ghoul in the sun. My intent encased them. “I’m in charge, you two are just memories, history crumbled to dust. It’s my turn. I’m Victor fucking Gale!” The blackness begin to crack and shatter like tempered glass and as I began to wake, I could almost hear the barest whisper.
The hissing croak of Lucien echoed in the fading dreamscape, “I’ll not fail here boy. I will return to my rightful place, my studies are far from complete.”
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