An odd sense of familiarity had passed through the barriers of his academy and Nylen swiftly turned his attention to the windows.
‘It can’t be…’ He thought to himself, knowing just how foolish such a thing would be. Yet, unable to let go of the uncertainty, “Aesinna-hahras.” With a spell of unbinding, he sent forth his own mana.
The invisible magic that was drifting outside–too thin and diluted for the unwary mage to notice–suddenly burst into a blue flame and vanished into the distance.
His uncertain expression immediately turned grim.
It was a signal he had not seen or felt for decades, and one that was only ever known to five people. Three, of which are now deceased.
Willing the large stacks of books blocking his path aside, Nylen carefully maneuvered himself to the door.
Directly outside of his door was another room filled with a number of scribes quietly copying letters and documents.
“Headmaster?” A man in a dark green and white scribe’s robe stood up. There was a surprise to the man’s voice.
“Sven.” His voice boomed through the large room and many of the scribes turned toward him.
He could feel his usual self being slowly overtaken by a fervent sense of fear and anxiousness. “Send words to the other masters. Code four of Ferrent’s defensive countermeasures.” He instructed, being careful to keep himself in check and his words composed.
“Co- code four?” The man asked in shock.
“Also, send riders to notify the Mystiks Guild and the knights as well.”
“Of course, headmaster.” The man replied, nodding to one of the scribes before turning back to Nylen himself. “But where are you going?”
“To buy us some time.”
Without waiting for another question, he continued through the room, exiting to the lobby.
A myriad of thoughts were warring in his mind.
Questions, plans, spells that might be required, the state of the city, the welfare of the populace, the destruction that has yet to come, and the death toll should anything happen.
‘What are you up to this time, Loryl?’ Nylen clutched his marble fist.
There were no tangible answers to the unforeseen situation, and he would have to play it by ear.
Leaving the building, a quick spell sucked him into the ground, hurling him through the earth toward the 1st ward.
The streets of the 1st ward shopping district bulged out, releasing him onto a surprised and curious crowd of people.
Ignoring the whispers that were beginning to circulate, Nylen turned his gaze toward a tall elderly man standing by the side of a stall.
Around the same age as himself, the man was wearing dark traveling garbs and was nonchalantly picking at the final bits of a skewer.
Their eyes met and the man’s lips curved upward into a gut-wrenching smile as his own stomach twisted with disgust.
“Mother, that grandpa came out of the ground!”
A child’s excited voice filled his ears and he turned to see a young boy staring at him, two wide eyes filled with wonder. Returning a quick smile, he winked at the boy and walked away, doing his utmost to hide the danger they were all in.
Seeing his approach, the elderly man stepped away from the stall and began walking away.
Nylen quickened his pace to catch up.
“What are you doing here?!” He questioned sharply, keeping his voice low as he fell into steps beside the man.
“In due time. For now, let us take a walk.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here, right now.” He shot back, his tone grating and restless as he kept pace with the man.
“Because you can’t, and because there will be plenty of time for that later.” The old man replied with a grin. “For now, I just need you to follow me.”
Nylen stopped and grabbed the man’s right arm, forcefully turning the aged yet familiar face to look at him. “What are you planning?” He questioned, glaring up as the man’s pale green eyes settled onto his arm.
Seeing that he had reached out with his left hand, he quickly retracted the marble arm underneath his master’s cloak.
“As much as I would like to show you what I have in mind, there is something I wish for you to see first.” A firm warning, one with an underlying message of death and destruction. “Now come.” The man smiled and ambled away, even greeting some of those that they passed by.
Without a choice, he reluctantly followed.
They continued walking through the busy streets for a short while, then entered a small pathway that led to the market’s back alleys. With a few more twists and turns, they eventually arrived at a large warehouse. Tall and constructed of stone, it was one of the many buildings being used by the market vendors to store their goods.
A thin platform jutted outward from the side of the stone wall as they approached and the man stepped onto the platform. Without a word, the pane of stone easily elevated the man onto the roof.
Unwilling to fall behind, Nylen swiftly invoked an incantation of his own and
the ground beneath his feet launched upward, shooting him to the roof as well.
“Whatever it is you are planning, Loryl, it will not work.” He called out, descending onto the rooftop from his earthen spire. “Soon the city will be closed off and every mage within these walls will be on alert.”
“And just how many mages are we talking about?” The man turned to look back at him. “Two dozen? Three? Men and women who have spent their whole lives within these walls, never seeing battle before? Or are you perhaps talking about those children from your academies?” There was a snide, knowing smile on the man’s face.
“So it was you…” Nylen gritted his teeth, holding back the anger that was trying to manifest itself.
Engrossed in his own research over the past three turns, he had neglected to give the attacks happening across western Darsus a second thought–even when the Mystiks Guild began sending most of their mages to deal with the issues.
“You underestimate me again, Nylen.” The man stopped at the center of the warehouse and the stone roof swelled upward, quickly forming into two regal looking stone chairs. “It was woefully obvious to me that my presence here was unexpected. To think that such a simple diversion was enough to clear Ferrent of its defenses, I am shocked at the incompetence.”
Reeling in his emotions, Nylen continued moving toward the man and the chairs. “I am warning you, Loryl.” He voiced, not allowing himself to sound anxious. “There are… others in this city that should not be stirred. Whatever it is you are planning, I suggest you reconsider.” Pushing against the man’s derisive statements, he pulled back his cloak to make a show of his marble arm as they both sat down.
“Is that so?” There was a change in the man’s green eyes. A flicker of curiosity, one that has been trying to hide its intrigue since earlier.
“We both know you are not just here to talk.” Placing his arms on the arm rests, “What is it that you want?” Nylen questioned, relaxing himself and pretending to stare out across the ward.
His eyes easily fell upon the hundreds of white plumes that were rising into the air, dancing and swaying with the breeze. Like fleeting company, they rolled and merged together into thick clouds before dissipating and becoming one with the sky.
“I am tired of this.” The man calmly replied, “This constant back and forth. Like spurned lovers who are always at each other’s throats, yet never taking that final step to rid themselves of one another.”
Like an arrow in mid-flight, there was no stopping what is to come.
His heart began drumming faster and a number of spells came to mind. “I see…” Nylen voiced, changing his focus to the inner wards and toward his academy as hundreds of faces surfaced in his thoughts.
Faces of men and women whom he had nurtured within the academy’s walls. People he had watched grow up, and mages he had guided in his decades as Zorin’s headmaster.
Seeing the foundations upon which Ferrent would continue to thrive even if he was gone, “Are you aware of what will happen?” He quietly conceded.
“I have always known how this will turn out, old friend.” An almost compassionate reply. “Do you remember what I said to you in Cerdaeran?”
“Yes. You shouted that the next time we meet, it will be the end for one of us.” He rephrased, recalling their last parting decades ago.
“As much as I hate to end it, this dance has gone on for long enough. I cannot have you disrupting my plans any further.”
“Disrupting your plans…?” The pieces easily clicked into place and Nylen hid a smile. “If I may ask. Why now after all this time?”
“I imagine we will both be gone sooner than later, so why not now before it is too late?” A dry chuckle came from the man as he paused in thought. “You know… the passage of time has been slipping through my mind more and more lately.” The man slowly stood up. Raising his right hand into the air, an explosion of mana burst forth from his fingers, soaring into the sky as a torrent of colorful flames. A signal. “At least let me send you off with a proper pyre before my body withers and my mind falls into madness.”
“Then we are of the same mind.” Nylen stood up.
By his will, his marble left arm shot forth like a spear, impaling the man’s side as the sound of explosions tore through the city.
Covered in his finely crafted plate armor, Lord Knight Commander Ravon dashed out of the Ravon manor with a trail of his family knights behind him. Taking his horse from the stable boy, “Huin!” He shouted.
“Commander?” On his own horse, Huin Ravon hastened to his father’s side.
“Take your group and reinforce the gates to the 13th ward. Do not let anyone pass even if it is King Sarjace himself.”
“As you command.” Huin replied and broke off, taking a small portion of the knights with him.
“Horan! Thirn!” The old commander called out to another two men.
“Horan. Take a squad with you to reinforce the knights at the 3rd and 4th inner ward gates. Close them off, and see to it that no one is to be allowed in or out. Thirn, you will do the same for the 1st and 2nd inner ward gates. When your tasks are done, take control of the ward’s knights and move to the outer wards.”
“What about you, my lord?” Horan questioned as Thirn whisked himself away.
Lord Ravon looked to the three dozen family knights behind him.
All their eyes were asking the same question.
Moving his horse forward, “Ferrent’s Malizur, Lord Nylen Gvius Daz Jozion has called for code four of the city’s defensive countermeasures! That means our enemies are already within these walls!” He yelled, making sure they all understood the gravity of the situation. “Those of you who are coming with me will be going to the outer wards. We will join up with the city guards to secure the wards. Our priority will be to make sure that the people are safe. I do not know what we are up against, but if you must fight, do not die!” He shouted, turning the large diumsha around as others hurried to mount their own horses.
Splitting with Horan and Thirn’s group, they rode south, moving toward the 3rd ward.
Pushing his horse ahead of the group, Gelrin watched as the sky to his right became bathed in an array of colors.
*Boom!* the sound of an explosion reverberated through the air, shaking and spooking their horses.
“From our flank!” Someone screamed, and he looked back to see smoke rising from one of the many manors lining the road.
“Leave that to the ward’s knights! We press forward!” Lord Ravon shouted.
*BOOM!” another explosion, one right beside their group.
The large diumsha he was riding bucked and began thrashing about.
With a quick incantation to reinforce his body with mana, he grabbed onto the horse’s head, quickly reigning it in before turning to the bloody mess behind him.
The explosion had blasted the side of a building into their group, and many of the horses were either injured or gravely wounded–with the rest having fled.
Thankfully from the look of things, many of the knights had only incurred large dents in their armors, with the worse injuries being those who were now stuck underneath their horses.
“Get them out!” Gelrin barked, jumping off his horse and running over to help.
“Ugh- gran- grandpa!”
Someone cried out. A feminine cry for help, immediately forcing him to turn toward the voice. “Naleen!?” He shouted, feeling the blood evaporating from his old and wrinkled face. “Naleen where are you?!” He shouted again.
“I-it. It hurts, grandpa.”
A sniffle from one of the knights who was covered in a pile of rubble and crushed underneath a dead horse.
Smaller than the average knight, they were also wearing a set of armor that he did not recognize.
He rushed to the knight’s side and quickly took off the dented helmet to find his granddaughter. There was a red mark on her forehead where her helmet had protected her head against some sort of projectile. “N-Naleen. What are you doing here?!” His leaned down, embracing the side of her head.
“I- I wanted to help.” She replied, her pained face attempting to form a brave smile as tears streamed down to the back of her head. “I’m. I’m sorry, grandpa.”
“No. This is- just give me one moment, child. I will get you out of there.” Hastily setting her head back down, he took a quick look at where she was pinned.
Unfortunately for her, the horse had rolled over both her legs, pinning her up to her waist.
Without worrying about himself or the others around them, with a quick incantation, he infused more mana into his body.
With an empowered push, “Grraahhh!!” He screamed as power surged through his flesh. Lifting the large beast up, others scrambled to his side to help pull his granddaughter away.
“Grandpa…” Naleen sniffled again as she tried to sit up.
One look at her, and he could see that her legs were broken.
Though her greaves and armor had protected her legs from the blast, the pressure of the horse’s weight had broken her ankles and her left leg from the knee down was angled oddly.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized again, her eyes tearing up.
“No… it is my fault.” Gelrin replied, standing up to show his relief with a smile. “We will just have to talk about that boisterous side of yours later.” He quipped and looked to his knights, “The two of you will escort her home. The rest of us will continue on foot.” He instructed and gestured for someone to bring his horse over.
“Grandfather I-” Naleen voiced as she was hefted onto the large diumsha.
“There is no need for further apologies, child.” He swiftly cut her off. “Go back. Be safe-” Lord Ravon stopped. Something had dripped onto his shoulders and turning his head, he could see that it was blood.
“Commander…” One of his knights whispered, the man’s gaze was tilting upward.
“How t-t-touching.” An unknown voice stuttered from above them.
Gelrin Ravon turned to look up.
An aleithian man was attentively staring down at them from the air. A Tiirin, one of the feathered folks.
Wearing only a pair of dark trousers, the man’s torso and shoulders were covered in feathers, all the way up to his head. Two large wings protruded out of the man’s back and were constantly in motion, keeping the man afloat.
In the man’s right hand–clutched in a claw-like grip–was the bloody head of a woman.
*Boom!* the sound of another explosion from a few streets away.
The aleithian man cocked his head toward the direction of the explosion, then smiled and turned back to them. “Are y-y-you Ssstrong?” He questioned, swaying his head left and right, looking from person to person as mana oozed from his arms.
Gelrin reached for the sword at his side. Their situation was dangerous before, but now it was deadly. “Get her out of here. NOW!” He ordered, hitting the horse and sending it speeding back in the direction they had come from.
Throwing the head in his hand away, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” The man cried out, diving straight down toward them.
“Ugh-!” Troyle grimaced, holding onto his side as he pushed himself up.
There was a ringing in his ears and his arms and legs felt bruised, but luckily there did not seem to be any serious injuries.
A pained groan came from his left side and Troyle sat up. “My lord.” He voiced, trying to recall what he could remember.
They had been traveling to the 13th ward.
Lord Varath was in the midst of reading through the handwritten testimonies of the two men they had been searching for, and he himself was quietly on alert as usual.
Suddenly there was a loud explosion behind them, followed by their horses and driver screaming briefly, then a darkness covering them both as they tumbled through the air.
‘What happened outside?’ Troyle thought as he placed his hand on the lord’s chest. Seeing that Lord Varath was still breathing, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Surveying their surroundings, they were still inside the Varath carriage. It had fallen on its side and the windows had shattered, but it was still in one piece. Turning his attention outward, “Egert! Egert!” He shouted for the man who had been driving them. “Egert! Can you hear me?!”
There was no answer.
Looking beside him again, the lord was in no position to move.
Troyle stood up and pushed open the carriage door that was above him, then painfully pulled himself up out of the carriage.
A dreadful feeling immediately assaulted him as the ringing in his ears were replaced by a cacophony of screams and shouts.
A wall of black smoke had risen behind them, and from the side of the building that had undoubtedly been the epicenter of the explosion, a raging serpent of flame was flaring up and engulfing the roadside.
“What is happening?” He questioned with eyes agape as worry filled his guts.
Alongside hundreds of others who were also trying to get home, Adalina and Reanne pushed and pulled their way through the crowded street.
A multitude of fires had broken out following the thunderous explosions, and an unknown storm had blown the market district into a state of disarray.
“This way!” Grabbing Reanne’s arm, Adalina pulled the woman toward a small path that separated a trading post and a diner.
“What is happening?!” Reanne cried out, her voice panicked and distraught.
“I don’t know!” Adalina shouted back, keeping her eyes forward and her mind on her children.
Though as calm as she could be on the outside, her insides were screaming, admonishing herself for not being there for them.
Cutting through a few more buildings and squeezing past others who were also hastily trying to get home, they soon arrived at the Shorza residential area.
“This. This cannot be happening…”
Adalina’s face distorted with horror as she caught the direction of her house.
A wall of fire had erupted along the roads, swallowing many of the buildings and blocking their paths.
Stuck in the same position, many of the area’s residents were running about, trying to put out the flames to no avail.
It was evident that magic was involved.
“No… Sylvia! Sylvia!” Reanne screamed, picking up her pace.
“Reanne! Reanne wait!” Adalina shouted, quickly rushing after the woman as a picture of her friend being swallowed by the flames rushed into her head.
Yet, in a display that she had never seen from the woman before, Reanne ran straight up to the wall of fire. With her hands together, Reanne screamed a few unintelligible words and pushed up against the flames as they devoured her sleeves. “Adalina! Hurry!” With a pained scream, Reanne ripped the flaming wall open as if she was pulling apart a piece of paper from the center.
Not giving it a second thought, Adalina threw herself into the opening.
Breaking her fall with her body and rolling to ease the impact like she had been taught, she quickly stood up to see Reanne doing the same.
Without addressing the issue of Reanne being a mage, she helped the woman up and they ran.
‘Please let them be okay! Please!’ Adalina begged.
With Lance in her arms, Sylvia hurried to Kaidus’ room. “Axel!” She yelled, opening the door with her free hand. “Axel! We have to leave right NOW!” She screamed, seeing that the boy was still huddled on the bed.
“Axel!” Anise screamed, running up the stairs to join them. “Hurry up! There is fire everywhere!”
The boy did not budge.
“Anise come here.” Calling the young girl over, Sylvia handed the pudgy babe in her arm to Anise. “Go downstairs and wait for me.” She instructed before stomping into the room. “We have to leave.” She said as she reached down to grab the young boy. As usual, he did not budge or react.
Grabbing him from behind, she lifted him from underneath his arms and awkwardly walked the boy downstairs.
Anise and Lance were already at the doors.
“Go!” Sylvia shouted, and Anise quickly picked up Lance before dashing outside. Following behind them, she dragged Axel out to the middle of the street and released him onto the ground before running back into the house.
Anise called out behind her but she did not stop. Rushing up the stairs again, she ran to Kaidus’ room once more.
Without needing to look around, she went straight for the bow that was hanging on the wall and grabbed the quiver of arrows underneath it.
As she was about to leave, Kaidus’ bookshelf caught her attention and she sprinted over to it.
Dropping the quiver and bow, she grabbed the right side of the shelf and pulled it out like how Anise had shown her. The shelf moved. Quickly feeling around behind it, “Got it.” She voiced as she pulled out a tightly wrapped bundle a little shorter than the length of her arm.
Picking up the bow and quiver again, she hastily descended the stairs and out of the house.
“Sylvie!” Anise called out to her.
Joining the three of them, Sylvia dropped the weapons and quickly turned around.
The fire had already latched onto the side of the Paltos house and was consuming it from the roof down.
All around them, dozens of others were already out on the streets and helplessly watching their homes going up in flames.
“We need to find my mother and Adalina.” She said as she bent down to pick up Lance.
In Anise’s hands were the two rings that the young girl always had around her neck. “Anise. What is that?” She questioned, seeing that the silver of the two rings was glowing.
“It’s a secret.” Anise replied.
There was a big smile on the young girl’s face.
With a half-conscious Lord Varath around his shoulders, Troyle carefully lead them back in the direction of the Varath manor. Keeping to the trees and buildings, they avoided the roads, seeing as much of the destructions were happening around the open areas.
Lord Varath’s tired voice entered his ears. “How are you feeling?”
“Like death.” Lord Varath groaned, reaching up to feel the side of his head.
“Good to know.” Troyle replied, pulling on the lord’s arms to help straighten the man out.
“Egert. Where is Egert?”
“Dead. It looked like he fell from the carriage and collided headfirst into the road.” He answered, keeping it short and simple.
He had found Egert and their two horses earlier upon exiting the upturned carriage, but the driver was already dead and the two horses were missing their heads.
The outside of their carriage looked like someone had ravaged it with a war hammer, and only one of the wheels had remained.
It was a miracle that they had survived such an ordeal with only minor bumps and scratches.
“W-what happened?” Lord Varath inquired, his voice sounding groggy and aggrieved.
“The city’s gone to shit is what happened. Fires everywhere, and I heard shouting and fighting earlier too.”
“How did- Guh. How did this happen? Where are the mages? The knights?”
“Saw some knights earlier, but it looks like they had their hands full trying to handle the flames.”
Lord Varath painfully turned his head to look into the distance. “By the gods… is this happening everywhere?”
“I believe it is.” Troyle somberly affirmed.
“My wife and children. They- arggh!” Pushing himself off Troyle, Lord Varath fell to his knees. “Fuck!” He cursed out in anger. “We- we have to get back to the manor. Get the guards, find my. Find my family.”
“We will.” Troyle replied, keeping his anxiety and sense of unrest to himself. Helping the lord up, he threw the man’s arm over his shoulders again and continued moving.
“I. Guh. I’m sorry, that was selfish of me.” Lord Varath apologized in between breaths. “You have your own family to worry about. Yet here you are, lugging me around instead.”
“All part of the job, my lord.” He jabbed back, seeing that the man had quickly found his senses.
“Why did this have to happen now? Why now when we are so close to finding justice for-”
“Wait.” Troyle quickly quieted the lord.
The sound of screaming and clashing could be heard coming from up ahead and he immediately looked down to the swords at his sides.
“Retreat! All of you!” A single voice shouted out orders, but it was followed by short bursts of agonizing screams.
The powerful voice roared, and a man clad in a suit of gray armor emerged onto the street ahead of them. The man was running and looking back as if he was luring something.
Someone flitted through the air. Diving at an angle, they slammed into the armored man’s sword.
Barely blocking the diving attack, the knight twisted his body and brought his sword around in a horizontal slash, aiming at his attacker’s side.
Troyle halted his steps as the shivering intensified.
Exactly like his memories, the fleet footed attacker did not duck or block the attack, but instead took to the air.
Lord Varath questioned from his side, and Troyle slowly released the lord onto the ground. “Stay here. Whatever happens do not come out.” He warned, hiding the fear that was rippling through his body.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
Not listening to the lord, he placed his hands on his two swords and hurried forward.
The winged attacker dove again and shot straight into the knight, forcing the armored man to kneel. Raising an arm into the air, the assailant smashed a fist into the knight’s chest, piercing the man’s armor before being pushed away.
‘It’s him. It’s got to be him!’ His mind bellowed and Troyle lowered his body, preparing himself for twin fangs.
As the airborne man dove for the knight once more, he burst onto the street.
Kicking off of the surprised but still kneeling knight, he jumped upward and lashed out with his two swords, aiming for the pair of wings.
“Kuh!” He grunted as two fists caught his surprise attack and easily threw him aside.
“Oh! Oh! Two swords! Yes yes!” A maniacal grin manifested itself onto the winged man’s face as the man retreated back into the air.
Troyle stood up and narrowed his eyes. “You remember me!?”
“Oh yes! Yes! T-t-two swords, I remember w-well!” The man gleefully shouted back. “But you w-w-weak! Where is he? Where is the bl-b-black one?!”
Though the manner of speaking had changed drastically since the last time he saw the man, the person before him was undoubtedly the one that had ripped apart his shoulder and ended his life as a mercenary all those years ago.
“Captain Zikale is not here, and he does not have time to waste with the likes of you. Today, you will fight me.” Troyle stepped forward. Lowering his swords to his sides and pointing their tips toward the ground, he fell into bladeform.
Deep inside, he was trembling as he stared at the monster before him.
The last time he fought the aleithian man, he had essentially lost his left arm and barely survived only because of Dalzak’s quick actions.
Had Captain Zikale and Dalzak not been there at the time, instead of a scar and a powerless left arm, he would undoubtedly be dead.
The man’s face contorted in anger. “No! NOO!!! I c-c-come to Darsssus for him! I f-f-fight black! Y-y-y-you will bring me the BLACK ONE!” The man screamed and dove like a lunatic.
“Come!” Troyle shouted, bracing himself for the attack.
It has been more than a decade since he lost to the man and almost died. His revenge was overdue.
“I warned you, old friend. You brought this upon yourself.”
*Cough!* “Ha… Hahaha. Hahahha!” Nylen Gvius Das Jozion laughed, staring up at the man’s two emerald green eyes.
His attack had failed.
His spear had shattered upon coming into contact with the man’s barrier and instead of being the one staring down at his old enemy, he was staring up at the man.
“Heal yourself, Nylen. I will not have you die before your beloved Ferrent.”
“I… refuse.” He smiled, coughing up a bit of blood. Looking down at his body, there were three gaping holes where the man’s magic had pierced him. One in his chest, and two in his stomach. “I will not give you the- *Cough!* the satisfaction of thinking you have won.” Clinging onto the right side of the stone chair, he pulled himself to sit up.
“What a foolish thing to say. I have already won.”
“Ku-hahahah… *COUGH!* Hahaha!”
“Has watching the city burn made you mad? Or did our positions remind you of your regretful mercy?”
“It… it is funny. Funny that you still believe yourself the master of this world.” Nylen replied, taking deep breaths while holding onto his stomach. “The notion is quite hilarious, actually.”
“It appears leaving you alone all these years has addled your mind. Had I known it would be like this, I would have paid you an earlier visit.”
*Cough!* “Ha… how considerate, but my mind has never been clearer.” He retorted, allowing his gaze to wander over the burning city. “I can see it in your eyes. Your curi- *Cough* curiosity, and the pride that holds you back from giving voice to such thoughts.”
“What are you spouting?”
“My arm…” Nylen painfully smiled at the man.
“Self-centered questions, trivialities that fail to realize the truth of this ever-evolving world. Hahaha… you may call yourself the master, a harbinger of magic… but we both know that to be your own delusions.” He mocked, moving his hand from his stomach and placing it onto the stone chair’s arm rest.
“But I… I have seen this world’s true master. The true harbinger that will usher in another glorious age of magic. *Cough COUGH!* Haa… and be warned, for they are the one who has been ridding Darsus of your filth.”
The man’s triumphant face collapsed into confusion at once, and Nylen smiled. “Yes… I had nothing to do with it. Haha… Haahahha!”
He bellowed, and the spell he had invoked prior to arriving in the third ward filled his mind. Willing all the mana within his body into the stone chair, he directed it through the warehouse and into the ground.