image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]
"Arbious... Arbious! Wake up! We're running late."
As Arbious groggily rose from his bed, he rubbed his eyes, noticing the pulled back curtains, allowing the warm sunlight to filter into the room. He was irritated to be awakened so suddenly. Glancing at Mila, his eyes narrowed yet he couldn't help but notice the distress etched on her face. "Is something wrong?" He questioned.
A lot had happened over the past few days. With Arbious not using his magic for quite some time, he had the magical reserves to manifest his divine form. Alpos had felt Arbious's filled magical reserves, and though he only hinted that Arbious had grown stronger, his intentions leaned towards having his lord aid him.
It did not take long for Mila to urgently respond to Arbious, her voice trembling slightly in distress. "Something's definitely wrong, we need to get going immediately."
"Why? What's going on?"
Mila swiftly gathered her belongings as she explained, "Just come outside, will you?" and rushed out of the room.
His mind wandered, dismissing Mila's need for urgency for the time being as he took to his feet. Alpos has yet to disappoint me... His plan, his siege, it all unfolded perfectly... I can't help but feel challenged to surpass it. Perhaps I should test my newfound powers on the Elven Kingdom, reducing it to rubble...
I have exercised patience thus far, and I should continue to do so. With Alpos currently leading my armies, the archangels who witnessed our actions must be perplexed about my whereabouts. I can imagine them struggling to comprehend the situation even now.
Dark shadows covered Arbious's face, a wicked grin stretched across his face. He raised his hand, his fingers running through his hair, HAHAHA! That organization though! I need to find a way to repay Alpos for his support.
In the shroud of the darkness which seemed unnatural, Arbious returned to his conniving senses, his grin returning to his calm, calculated expression. But for now, let's focus on what Mila has to say.
As he stepped outside, the scene that unfolded before him was one of chaos and panic. The townsfolk were gathered, clutching newspapers in their hands, their expressions laden with despair. Gasps escaped from the lips of many as they absorbed the shocking contents of the articles they were reading. Mila stood near the inn's exit, engaged in a discreet conversation with Graybeard. Their hushed tones suggesting the gravity of the situation at hand.
He approached the two, and Graybeard immediately turned to him, extending his hand to offer him the newspaper that everyone was engrossed in. Taking it from him, Arbious began to skim through the pages, his eyes quickly drawn to the information he sought. As he read the headline, "The Forces of Evil March Again," a sense of pride washed over him. He glanced at Mila, who was now in tears, and Graybeard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, offering reassurance in the midst of her distress.
So, it appears that news of Alpos's exploits has reached all the way to this town... The world itself is now aware of our demonic might.
Curious and concerned, Arbious asked, "What happened? Why are you crying, Mila?"
Graybeard's gaze shifted in his direction, and he spoke with a heavy sigh, "Her only remaining relative, her uncle, was caught up in the siege..."
Mila's uncle was captured? What a stroke of luck... I can use this to my advantage.
"And the worst part is that the demons took prisoners... Who knows what will happen to those poor souls," Graybeard continued, his voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and helplessness. He maintained his comforting hold on Mila, providing her with the solace she needed at that moment.
Mila's anguish erupted in an outburst. "WE NEED TO SAVE THEM!" she cried out, her voice filled with determination, even amidst her tears.
But how is it possible that Mila knows who her uncle is... Did he reach out to her? The audacity of that man.
Graybeard tightened his grip on Mila, his expression pained. "We can't," he exclaimed, his voice heavy with resignation. "Their army is too vast, too sophisticated. We are only three people. What power do we hold against them? Even if we wanted to help, we are halfway across the world from where it all happened. Let the Elven Queen and the Arch Angels deal with that."
"You expect me to remain idle and do nothing?!" Mila shouted; her frustration evident in her tone as tears rolled down her face.
"We are currently powerless," Graybeard responded, sparking a heated argument between the two.
"With Arbious's help, I can learn to become powerful enough to confront the demons! To rescue my uncle!" Mila asserted determinedly.
Graybeard cast a suspicious glace at Arbious at Mila's words. He still held doubts of him, his powers, their origin. Something about Arbious's glaring red eyes made him feel constantly uneasy. Once Arbious had noticed his lingering gaze, Graybeard hurriedly diverted her attention to Mila. "But it's far too perilous for just the three of us! Can't you understand that? This involves divine forces, not mere goblins! Even with his help we stand no chance against them. Stop being so impulsive!" Graybeard pleaded, concerned for her.
Sensing the tension between the two, Arbious approached Mila, his voice gentle yet resolute, attempting to calm her down, to make her think rationally. "Mila, your uncle is going to be okay. I promise you that much. If the demons took prisoners, it's possible that they have a motive beyond pure destruction. They might be considering releasing them for ransom or something of the sort. Otherwise, they wouldn't bother taking captives."
Mila's tear-filled eyes remained fixed on him, and with a determined gesture, she attempted to wipe away her tears. "He's right, Mila," Graybeard chimed in, his voice echoing Arbious's sentiment, his eyes filled with gratitude at his involvement. "We shouldn't lose hope just yet. There's a chance that your uncle will be saved, but we mustn't be rash!"
Mila's desperation began to shift, replaced by a flicker of hope. She turned towards Arbious, her voice filled with newfound optimism. "You really think so?" she asked, her eyes searching his for confirmation, her spirit rekindled by the possibility of a better outcome.
"Yes, of course..." Arbious's voice lingered in the air.
"Whatever may happen, we will rescue your uncle from the clutches of those demons," Graybeard declared, his words resonating with conviction.
Once the two had deescalated the situation, Graybeard took the newspaper from Arbious's hands. His eyes scanned the pages, filled with disbelief at its content. "It's truly unbelievable. Demons are gathering their strength in numbers, employing armor and siege weapons. Something is amiss... It seems the Demon God has grown in power, and those siege weapons resemble dwarven catapults infused with infernal energy."
Mila's body trembled slightly as she peered at the newspaper in Graybeard's grasp. There was an illustration of the infernal contraptions Alpos had created, with text to the side, describing the horrors of the battlefield and the devastation the machines had brought. All of which left Arbious to wonder how they were able to get a image of the machines with such accuracy.
"The mere thought is terrifying... What are the chances of the Elven Queen holding them off?" Mila inquired, her voice laced with concern.
"It's difficult to say. These machines are capable of launching hellfire across the battlefield..." Graybeard responded, continuing to skim over the newspaper, his tone contemplative. "But given her powers, she shouldn't face significant obstacles. What is weird is how fast the demonic forces grew, considering their devastating defeat in the second war."
Arbious interjected, questioning the relevance of these events to them. "But regardless of their actions, how does it concern us?"
Graybeard eyes fixed on him with a serious gaze, emphasizing the direness of the situation. "It matters greatly! If the elves fall, the forces of darkness will march upon the mortal realms unhindered. We dwarves take pride in our machinery, but it is the elves who possess the courage and magical prowess to combat them. The humans may prove to be allies, but they can be swayed by greed."
Arbious nodded, acknowledging Graybeard's perspective. "I suppose you have a point."
"Our futures are at stake. The Demon God poses a threat that must be dealt with. Merely sealing him away is not enough!" Graybeard's voice resonated with determination as he voiced his concerns, his eyes reflecting a resolute resolve to face the impending danger head-on.
Mila's eyes bore a worried expression as she turned to Graybeard, seeking guidance. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Graybeard's aged face softened as he contemplated the question, realizing the limitations of their abilities in the face of the demon threat. "We... We cannot directly engage in battle against the demons," he began, his tone tinged with a touch of disappointment. "But we can offer support to the front lines through financial aid, as we have done in the past. It is a way for our kingdom to fulfill its responsibilities, in exchange for our safety. We can expect heavy taxes imposed upon us due to the recent turn of events. Our lives of luxury may become a thing of the past."
"I see..." Mila replied, feeling a sense of loss brought on by their financial situation.
"I guess I'll come clean... Better now than never at any rate... I didn't donate all of our earnings and managed to save a few coins from our recent mission... I apologize, Mila, but we also need some gold to sustain ourselves," Graybeard admitted with a tinge of shame, his gaze lowered.
Mila's response was understanding and accepting. "No harm done, I'm glad that you did," she reassured him, her voice filled with empathy.
As the two were having a moment of understanding, Arbious interjected. "Still... I can't help but wonder how they managed to obtain this information," he pondered aloud. "I mean, they even possess a picture of the siege engines the demons used... How is that even possible?"
Mila and Graybeard exchanged perplexed glances before turning their attention towards him. "You're not familiar with The Photographer?" Mila questioned.
"The Photographer?"
"Yes, she is a skilled sorcerer who serves under the Holy Order. She possesses the ability to use clairvoyance magic and transcribe her visions onto paper." Mila replied.
"Oh... I had no idea that mortals were capable of wielding such magical powers," Arbious replied, surprised.
"What do you mean by 'mortals'?" Graybeard inquired.
"Never mind what I said," he quickly spoke, realizing his unintended implication.
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This photographer... whoever she is, she possesses incredible abilities, and is capable of informing the entirety of the world with her newspapers. If I ever get the opportunity to meet her, I should quickly dispose of her. Destroying their source of information would disrupt their ability to assemble on time. Or... I could corrupt her and force her to spread misinformation.
With a sense of unease brought on by Arbious's comment, Graybeard hesitantly retrieved another piece of paper from his pocket. He was still suspicious of him from what Arbious could tell but he didn't say anything because of Mila. "This is a job I secured from the guild. It shouldn't be as challenging, as our task is to provide protection." Graybeard spoke as his eyes examined the contents of the paper.
Thats a rather sudden change in development. I guess he wants to put this behind and get our minds off things.
"A protection job, huh?" Arbious questioned, his red eyes fixing on the paper in Graybeard's hands.
"Exactly so," Graybeard confirmed, his voice reflecting a sense of optimism.
Mila visibly relaxed upon hearing the news, finding solace in the prospect of a new mission. Puzzled, Arbious probed further, asking, "Who are we protecting?"
Graybeard's expression became serious as he explained, "We are dealing with someone of noble status, who also happens to be a pharmacist. Avo personally assigned me this job, and I couldn't refuse. The compensation is generous, even after factoring in taxes. Moreover, our actions on this mission have the potential to benefit everyone."
The guild leader went out of his way to provide this job to us? Then this must be an incredibly important mission...
Intrigued, Arbious pressed for more details. "And what can you tell us about this pharmacist? What are they like? What does the pharmacist seek?"
"She's a young girl, almost the same age as Mila," Graybeard revealed as he stroked his beard. "Her goal is to venture into the woods of Hilmor. Apparently, there's a fungus that grows there, capable of irritating the skin of demons. If we can mass-produce chemicals from it, it could be used as a trump card against the demons."
Interesting... If this is true, then I must do something about it...
"What's her name?" Mila inquired.
Graybeard stroked his beard, deep in thought, attempting to recall the girl's name.
"I believe it was something along the lines of... Alice? Or maybe it was Anna..."
"So, which one is it?" Mila pressed.
"Most likely Alice..." Graybeard responded, though his uncertainty was evident.
"You don't sound entirely convinced... But fine," Mila replied, accepting the answer.
"She's the daughter of Lady Gray," Graybeard spoke, finally recalling a crucial detail.
"Lady Gray? Here?!" Mila exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Yes," Graybeard confirmed. "I was just as shocked when I found out."
"Who is Lady Gray?" Arbious inquired, not familiar with the name.
Graybeard looked at him incredulously. "Are you from another world or something? I thought everyone knew about Lady Gray. She's the governor of this town. But don't let that title deceive you. She's a ruthless Viscountess driven by an insatiable thirst for magic and power. Rumor has it that she even sacrificed her husband in exchange for knowledge from a demon."
Graybeard's expression turned to one of realization as he realized they were running late. "OH right! The pharmacist is waiting for us! We must hurry back to the guild."
Graybeard cast a glance at Mila to ensure she was prepared for what lay ahead. She simply nodded; Her mind burdened by the weight of her captured relative. Graybeard felt her heaviness, but this was an opportunity for them to get their minds off of things.
I must inform Alpos to locate her uncle and ensure his safety under our watch. The Photographer, Lady Gray... Their ranks boast several formidable individuals. Should the rumors surrounding Lady Gray's involvement in demonic rituals hold any truth, she might indeed become a valuable ally in my endeavors, however, as for the photographer, I must either decide to dispose of her or convert her... But this is not a concern of mine for now.
Before they could depart, Arbious had to inform Alpos of his plans before the bloodshed began. He had instructed Alpos to take prisoners, but knowing Alpos, he might kill them all and concoct a cover story. Arbious needed an excuse to slip away unnoticed. He looked around, but the ongoing commotion made it difficult to find privacy.
"I need to take care of something. You two should head to the guild. I'll meet you there," Arbious said, his eyes continuing to scan his surroundings.
This was the opportunity Graybeard had been waiting for—a moment away from Arbious's sinister gaze and the aura of dread that permeated from him. Eager to escape, he quickly agreed to Arbious's request. Dragging Mila with him, the two swiftly departed, their figures disappearing into the crowd.
Returning to the inn was not wise, so Arbious made his way into secluded alleyways. He had never ventured into this part of town, but there were far fewer people here. His eyes examined the buildings, their rustic, deteriorating exteriors showcasing the harsh conditions the residents endured.
A right, then a left, then another right—he hurried through each street until he reached a dead end. There wasn't a soul in sight, the perfect place to contact Alpos. As he began to conjure his magic, a group of armed individuals emerged from the surrounding buildings.
"Look at that, a magic caster in this part of town," a brawny man with a spiked club resting on his shoulder said, declaring himself the leader of the brigands. "Outnumbered and cornered. You picked the wrong place to wander into, mage."
Arbious's eyes narrowed with disdain, as the leader of the brigands stepped forward, brandishing his spiked club with a smug grin. They outnumbered him twenty to one, but this was not a game of numbers.
Arbious's lips curled into a sinister smile, his eyes glinting with malevolence. "You're mistaken if you think numbers will save you."
One of the brigands, emboldened by his leader's bravado, spat on the ground. "Big words for someone who's about to be carved up. Hand over your valuables, and we might let you live."
Arbious tilted his head, amused. "Might? How generous of you. I would never offer such terms."
The leader's grin faltered slightly as he sensed the growing menace in Arbious's voice. "Enough talk! Get him, boys!"
The thugs rushed forward, weapons drawn. Arbious remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the leader. As the first thug swung his sword, Arbious raised a hand, lifting the thug into the air with a surge of magic. The thug struggled, his eyes wide with terror, but Arbious's grip was unyielding.
The leader of the group watched in horror as Arbious tightened his grip. The thug's body twisted and contorted under the unnatural magical pressure, bones snapping and flesh tearing. With a final, sickening pop, the thug's body exploded, showering the alley in blood and gore.
Arbious's voice was calm, almost conversational. "You see, I don't need to be generous. I don't need to be merciful."
The remaining brigands froze, their faces pale with fear. The leader took a shaky step back, his bravado crumbling. "What... what kind of monster are you?"
Arbious took a step forward, his presence overwhelming. "The one you see in your nightmares."
Another thug, desperate and panicked, lunged at Arbious. With a flick of his wrist, Arbious sent a bolt of dark energy straight through the thug's chest, leaving a smoking hole where his heart had been. The thug dropped to the ground, lifeless.
The remaining brigands, now thoroughly terrified, turned and fled, their leader included. Arbious watched them go, his smile never fading. He relished the fear he had instilled in them, a small taste of the power he wielded.
But Arbious was far from done.
He raised his hands, and the air around him began to shimmer with an ominous, dark energy. A low hum filled the alley, growing louder as the magic intensified. Arbious's eyes glowed with a malevolent light as he called forth his power.
From his hands, bolts of crimson lightning known as the finger of pain shot out, arcing through the air and striking down every single fleeing thug. The electricity coursed through their bodies, causing them to convulse and scream in agony. This magic was known for its brutality, for causing excruciating pain that led to one's demise. One by one, they fell, their bodies smoking and twitching as the deadly energy consumed them. At the sight, Arbious laughed manically, his voice sending shivers down the leader's spine.
The leader, seeing his men fall, turned back, desperation in his eyes. "Please, spare me! I didn't know who you were! I was just following orders!"
Arbious strode toward the man, each step echoing ominously in the alley. As he reached him, the man dropped to his knees, overpowered by the sheer force of Arbious's presence. Arbious loomed over him, his gaze icy and calculating.
In a voice devoid of empathy, Arbious seized the man by the throat and demanded, "Whose orders were you following?"
The man gasped for air, his eyes wide with fear, struggling to form words under Arbious's grip. The intensity of Arbious's stare seemed to freeze the very air around them.
Arbious's eyes bore into the man, their frigid depths betraying no hint of mercy.
As the man opened his mouth to speak, a sudden, piercing pain lanced through his chest. His eyes widened in shock as he looked down to see a shimmering, ethereal arrow protruding from his heart. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around him.
Arbious's gaze flickered to the arrow, his expression darkening with fury. In an instant, he scanned the surroundings, searching for the source of the attack. But the alley remained eerily silent, save for the man's ragged breaths.
With frustration, Arbious turned his attention back to the dying man. Kneeling beside him, Arbious gripped his shoulder, his touch sending shivers down the man's spine. "Tell me," Arbious demanded, his voice low and dangerous, "who sent you after me?"
But it was all to late for the man had already died. Disappointment etched on his face, Arbious rose to his full height, his eyes scanning the alley with a predatory gleam. He sensed the presence of his unseen assailant, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, well," Arbious called out, his voice carrying a mocking edge. "This arrow was made from a piece of Tasildor itself. To waste it on such a lowly human... But it does give me a good hint as to who you are. Stop hiding in the shadows like a coward. Come out and face me!"
The alley remained silent, the only response the soft rustle of wind through the narrow passageway.
Arbious chuckled darkly, his tone dripping with derision. "Ah, so the mighty hunter prefers to skulk in the darkness. Tell me, do you always rely on cheap tricks to do your bidding?"
Still, there was no response.
As Arbious continued to locate the trajectory from which the first arrow was shot from, another arrow whistled through the air, aimed directly at him. But just as it was about to strike, the arrow burst into black flames, incinerating into nothingness before it could reach its target.
Arbious stopped in his tracks, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He raised an eyebrow, amused by the failed attempt on his life.
"Is that the best you can do?" Arbious called out, his voice echoing through the alley. "I expected more from someone who fancies themselves a hunter."
Once again, there was no response, only the quiet whisper of the wind.
Arbious chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "You may hide in the shadows, but you cannot escape me. Your little games are futile. Show yourself and face me like a true opponent."
Arbious's eyes narrowed as he sensed the presence of his elusive assailant. With a subtle yet commanding gesture of his hand, he unleashed a surge of dark energy that tore through a nearby building as if it were made of paper. Bricks and mortar crumbled and fell away, revealing a figure clad in a green cloak, darting across one of the upper floors before disappearing into the darkness.
Arbious watched with growing frustration as the green cloaked figure slipped away, vanishing into the darkness without a trace. Despite his best efforts, his elusive prey had managed to evade capture. With a tinge of annoyance, Arbious clenched his fists, his nails sinking into his palms with barely contained fury. He had underestimated this adversary, but he would not make the same mistake twice.
"Run while you still can," Arbious shouted mockingly, his voice a venomous promise. "But know that I will find you, and when I do, there will be no mercy."
With a sense of grim satisfaction for getting the last laugh, he turned his attention to the task at hand: informing Alpos of their next move.
Arbious stood amidst the bodies, the alleyway still heavy with the scent of death. Summoning his powers once more, Arbious reached out with his mind, seeking the familiar presence of his loyal lieutenant. After a moment, Alpos answered.
"Master," Alpos intoned reverently. "You called for me?"
Arbious nodded, his expression cold and commanding. "Yes, Alpos. There is something I must make abundantly clear. The elves are to be taken alive. No unnecessary slaughter. We need them intact for the ritual."
Alpos's eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "Of course, Master. But may I ask, what specific ritual do you have in mind?"
"No ritual. Just follow my orders." Arbious conveyed.
"It shall be done, my lord. I will ensure to the safety of every one of our captives."
With a flicker of his will, he severed the mental link connecting them, leaving behind only the echo of his command.
Turning his attention to the scene before him, Arbious surveyed the aftermath of his display of power with a satisfied smirk. The chaos and destruction served as a stark reminder of his dominance, a testament to the fear he inspired in those who dared to challenge him. With a final glance at the brutal scene, Arbious disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway.