From the darkness of the dungeon, a man emerges. Then came another.
The shadows and the dim light masked their appearance, so that only their figures could be seen.
One garb in desert clothes, while the other wears a slick leather armour.
Both mysterious and holding an intimidating aura, the two swiftly scourge their way into the now desolated dungeon and easily cut down the remaining cultists that seek to escape the place.
The man in desert garb placed his hand on the fallen enemies, to which a burst of black flame engulfed their whole bodies, consuming their whole corpses, even their spilt blood. And half a minute is enough to leave no trace of their remains, not even a single ash.
They didn't speak, nor point fingers. A single glance was sufficient to relay a message.
It didn't take long before they finally managed to find the dungeon's laboratory. Inside, the bright light suddenly dwindles until spots of shadow emerge—no need to peer through the door when the two emerge from the shadows.
The piles of corpses, the violence from the floor, didn't shudder their essence. Composed—the two were rather more concerned at Noxar, who was alarmed by their entrance.
They measured him for quite a while until the man in desert apparel spoke—
"Master Hawk, should we? It won't take long for the people to fill this place."
Hawk nods, "We should make this quick."
His partner nods and quickly unbinds Noxar.
"Who-who are you, people?" Noxar said, still half-bound.
"You're a mage? Why didn't you unbind yourself?" The man in desert clothing inquires.
Noxar looks away; his expression shows surrender.
"If I run away… The people in this place would find me." He paused, still trying his best to sound normal. "Perhaps this time, death is more soothing than going back."
Then comes a pause.
"I'll take care of him." Hawk steps forward.
His partner nods and hands him the mage cultist.
Noxar didn't resist, and even if he did, the two of them have far more experience than he does.
Once the two vanished through the shadow, Hawk's partner set his eyes on the rot of what holds the chamber.
Dark flames cinder his palm, and with a touch, the corpses were set ablaze, like a fire that touched dried grass.
To the man who caused such uproar, waits on the rubble—groaning for help, slowly bleeding to death. The dagger that plunged from his abdomen drains his strength, and he is powerless even to move parts of his body. His vision blurred as he found it harder to breathe.
Gaping through the open hole of the dungeon, he saw a flicker of people descending. He couldn't make up their looks, but knows who they are. Their voice was all he needed.
"What were you thinking, Natalak! Diving all alone!" Sheila exclaimed, inspecting his body first.
Natalak didn't speak; a dying groan was his reply.
Chifya, on the other hand, was silent—her mind was brooding over Natalak's action. Still weighing, if Natalak is truly a Veilmage in hiding.
"Hold still… I'm going to remove the dagger."
Just as Sheila swiftly removed the dagger, Natalak felt a jolt in his intestines, sending shivers of pain. He felt the cold shudder of death as his skin lost its colour, of pail.
"Sister Chifya," Sheila calls at the petrified half-elf, gawking, perceiving, testing the dying man's future. "Sister Chifya! Please, I need your help, he's dying!" She shouts, nudging Chifya's aversive senses.
Tossing her selfishness, she pounced on her aid. Plucking a veil, crushing to which her hand curls of misty emerald. Not on the wounds did she press her palms, but through Natalak's hand. Illuminating his skin, slithering the murky green all through his body.
The cold that gradually surrounds Natalak's body is quickly forced by the combination of the two's healing magic. One heals the wound, while the other sutures his essence.
The traveller groans, not of death but of the soothing of reverting to life.
Their healing abilities, however, were not as powerful as those of priests and paladins. Not enough to make Natalak walk again.
Relief that Natalak evades death, Riya scours through the remains of the fallen enemies. Bows ready, when she notices a twitch of Korveth's fingers. Startled, Riya sends an arrow, nailing the cultist's hand.
However, her actions were not adequate to stop Korveth's spell. And before others could come, all four of them, including Korveth himself, along with his two servants, were teleported to a place deep in the forest.
Not long after their exit, citizens pile onto the now-open cavern. Murmurs filled the air, but it didn't take long for guards and adventurers to push away the people from that place.
In them, the crowd's noise turns to a whisper as Ferish enters the scene. At her back were Roland and his companions—their confidence held high.
The first adventurer parts ways, allowing the high priestess to descend the gaping hole.
"What have you to report?" Ulgar spoke towards the soldier who entered first.
"Not much, sir… there's nothing to be seen here, only that blood." The soldier looks at Verena's spilt blood.
"Have you searched all the tunnels?"
"We did, though there's no body or any traces we come across. We're still searching for any hidden compartments."
Just then, the two's conversation stops as Ferish ambles through the collapsed debris.
She measured steadily—
"There's something behind these collapsed walls."
Quickly, as she had stated, the men gathered, pulling large stones and digging out the rubble until a passageway was revealed.
Down they enter, and what they found was none other than—
"L-LORD ARIENDAL!" Exclaimed one of the soldiers.
Paralysed, he was, forced to kneel on the stone-cold floor. His arms stretched like an eagle's wing, chained by roots: skin and bones, sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks. Hunger was the ticket they staged for him.
Their findings, however, were cut short—that is, they heard another commotion, coming from the surface…
Cut to where Sheila and her friends were teleported.
In a dwindling light forest, a golden light sparks the ground. In it, they appear.
"Don't tell me— we're—" Riya spoke; her eyes wandered through the surroundings.
Giant black trees overrun the land; their trunks so high that they cloud the sun. The only light that pierced the darkness was the glow of mushrooms and odd plants that shed glittering dust onto the ground. The air was so heavy that Sheila and Riya struggled to breathe, poisoned by the strange vegetation all around. Unable to withstand the pressure, they collapsed, gasping and hallucinating, except for Chifya.
Three glowing seeds she pulls from her satchel, and one by one she feeds them to their mouth.
"Chew and swallow it." She said, to which they did.
When it comes to Natalak, unable to chew, Chifya pry open his mouth and places the seed at the top of his molar. Before she then forced his jaw, crushing and releasing the seed's essence.
The place they enter reeks of impending peril. And when Chifya sensed something strange was coming, she exclaimed—
"Teleport us now! Something big is coming!" Chifya exclaimed, her tone whiffing of fear.
Alarmed by her dread, Sheila tensely pulls out a teleportation scroll. Yet despite her desperate attempt to trip the scroll, the spell was shattered as if it were a glass—
"What the! —The spell! —How?"
In shadows, something was on the watch, on the prowl. Not a man, but something large. Strange from its height, the figure walks as if it were a panther.
It growls, and from its sound, all three of them became aware of what it was.
Perceived their understanding, the beast in hiding slowly reveals itself.
The ground shook, and claws ripped the tree trunk as if it were rotten. It walks in all four and wings the size of a sail.
"A dragon!?" Riya's eyes widen, too sudden to face such a creature, too weak to face such value.
Perhaps—a dragon, maybe, but it differs. Its scales were unlikely; it glows in lava rather than armoured scales. Its forelimb isn't made of claws or spikes, but is much more similar to a human's. Its neck is that of a wyrm, its tail is that of a snake.
The beast's eyes assessed, interested not by Sheila or her companions but by the remains of Korveth.
The beast's arm stretched, grabbing the body of Korveth. The beast's arm pulls closer, inspecting not the flesh of the man but his essence. It sneers in disgust. The man's essence was empty—played by a mere human. No souls to collect, no prize to be amused.
While entertained, the remaining mortals slowly back away.
Caught in the act, the dragon crushed the man's body as if it were made of mud.
"Running won't save your life." The demon spoke as he slithers his way towards the group.
"Get behind me," Chifya suggests towards the two as she steps forward, drawing the murky dark daggers.
Alarmed, the beast growls when Chifya steps without fear. He sniffs the air and senses an interest in her, of her blood.
"Ahh… it would be a waste to kill you, elf. Your blood holds something for my collection."
"Enough talk, fiend. I've killed many of your kind before. And you're no different than them."
Intrigued by her confidence, the demon let out a low snarl, rather insulted by her.
No warning to hint, the beast vomits lava of flames. It burns as it corrodes anything that it touches, eating the corpses of Tharan and Verena.
Towards Chifya, she upheaves a wall of ice, thwarting the beast's attack. Not even a minute, ice fogs begin to crawl from the ground and up to the air.
The demon arose, four more eyes opened, and it stood like a man. Its wings stretched, flaunting its ghastly form.
Palms open, and blood arose from the beast's flesh. The blood that hovers from its hand disintegrates into a swirl of white energy, forming an atom-like shape. The platonic energy, however, had many spheres orbiting not a sphere but a cube.
The beast didn't hurl, didn't mutter a spell. The demon only needed to drop the platonic energy to the ground.
Seeing the demon's spell, Chifya rushes towards the falling atom-like, hurling one of the twin daggers before it can reach the soil. The blade of darkness engulfs the white energy. Strings of shadows emerge, pulling and absorbing the demon's spell.
The dagger didn't stop as it flung towards the demon's belly. And when it does, the beast is petrified not of stone but of charcoal, before it crumbles into pieces.
One thing is for sure: this was not the end of the demon, as it manifested into three more. Similarly, all three of the demons' six eyes had one closed, leaving only five open.
In their hand, not one but two platonic energies were created, each resting on their hands.
Chifya rushes back, but two clones of the beast appear, blocking her path. It was at this time that she was forced to unveil her true manifestation.
Elvish blood boils within; her skin tone shifts colour into pale obsidian. Her raven hair, blemish in shimmering silver. Right when her ethereal form commenced, time swiftly slowed. Not her, but something darker.
Between the demon's clone, she saw the traveller get to his feet. Dark mist once more embroiled his body, and the entity that was purged returned with more hate.
"Sheila! Riya!" Chifya's hand extended towards the girls. "Natalak! Don't you dare!"
Natalak, free from the Muddle of Time, the entity that lingers, showed no interest in the three girls. He mocked the demons as if they were mere prey. Then the Muddle of Time lifted, and time was once again returned to its flow.
The platonic energy that was dropped plunged into the soil, as if it were tossed into calm water. Moreover, the mortals, be they demons or not, stood petrified.
"Come now… is that all, Acolyte of the Abyss?" Natalak gazes at the demon.
Mocked and belittled, the demon's eyes move, sending malice towards the possessed man. Their mouth forced open, their heads twisted, until little by little the spell that chained their movements shattered.
"Who do you think you are?" The demons snarl as two more wings sprout from their backs.
Free from the entity's trick, the demons' replica merge. Still, one of their eyes didn't open. The demon didn't stop when its body begins to expand until it reached the size of a true dragon.
The demon did not move at first. No strikes to give, the demon only measured. Its wing stretched, daunting the entity. Colossal and heavy, its wings reap air as its four wings heave. Its wings slammed downward, and air roared. A violent surge burst outward—not like wind…but like a collapsing wave.
A single fold of its wing was enough to reach out from the forest's top. Three more, and the demon was far too be seen. High above the sky, it calls for lightning, not through spell but by his blood. And a spear of lightning was made.
Aiming where he last stood, the demon, with all his might, hurls the spear of lightning. And then he saw his weapon of destruction freely being grasped by Natalak himself.
The demon stood still, couldn't move, couldn't escape from the slowness of time—The Muddle of Time.
"Entertain me more." The entity smiles, driving the bolt back to the demon.
Lightning burst from his back onto the city of Ravalind. Ground and air, the lightning crawls like a tsunami, raging fast like a furious river. It stops at nothing and eats everything.
Trees burst; animals roasted in seconds. Its path lay waste to fire, of destruction.
Eminent and powerful, mortals who saw the fury, readied their barrier. Adventurers or not, they were surprised by what was coming.
Their barriers clash, their combined strength bolstered by the blessing of Ferish herself. The lightning was quenched.
The acolyte of the abyss crumbles, but soon his flesh regenerates a new life. But in the demon's resurrection, not five but four of his eyes are now open.
"Who are you? Wielder of Time Resonance?" The demon spoke.
"Amara—" The entity whispered, his voice fading to the ears, but to the demon, he can hear him very well.
The name was given, and at that moment, the demon experienced one thing in his life—to run away. But the acolyte knew very well that the entity wouldn't let him go.
Faced with uncertain escape, the acolyte tries to teleport away. Nonetheless, its escape was futile.
Its wing flaps harder than ever, not for show but to evade what was in front. Towards the south, towards the open ocean, did he go. Divided into four, the acolyte hopes to faint its enemy.
Inconspicuously, the acolyte finds himself in a different place. The clones he disperses return in one.
Inevitably, to escape, the demon lashes out in full brunt of his power. Skin turns red, and red draws blood. It didn't fall; it orbits around. To the adversary, the entity was matching a spell.
Arms stretched out, palms open—an orb expands, with two on each side. He didn't cast, it let it float. Then strings of energy begin to stretch towards each other until infinity is created.
The demon snarls. "So, I've heard… now I see… the one who ended my former master."
"Then this is your chance to avenge your master… demon."
The two paused—and as tension rose, dim clouds forged the sky. Hammering thunder roars over the land, lightning battered not on the soil, but through the demon itself.
Far from the two's duel, at the Estate of Shilvia, there on the balcony. The paladin's sharp eyes witness the duel of the two. Lightning ravages the land, and a breath of fire paints the sky. Rains of destructive magic pour through the forest without consent.
Birds of different kinds, whether monster or not, fled from the battlefield. Even from afar, she could see the ground slowly rising, as cracks of lava begins to appear.
Stationed at the hilltop, she perceived the direction they were moving. In the south-eastern part of Keshoval lies one of the populated villages.
Ashalain frowns.
"Sister." The paladin looks back at her sister.
Ashena nods, "Go, I'll see what I can do from here."
Dressing as fast as she could, in the end, a simple leather armour, along with plate gauntlet and boots, is all she wears. Carrying only a shield and a sword, the noble paladin set course for the closest teleportation. A single display of her guild crest is enough to give her access.
"Ma' Valan. Take me to Ma' Valan." The Ashalain said.
Towards the two behemoths, the acolyte was near its end. No eyes open, no life remaining—
"Come now?" The entity spoke. "Show me your last… there's no point in hiding. The abyss is calling."
The demon snarls, its teeth grinding. The sense of hopelessness clutches tightly. Through and all, before the claw of the abyss, the acolyte divulges one last chance.
From the forehead of the beast, an eye opens, not many but one. Again, from its palm, a wound was open, and blood took the form of a spear. Radiant of many souls, the spear reeks of dreadful cry.
Unmoved by the acolyte's last defiance, not a flicker of reaction—yet a drop of the beast's blood stains Natalak's palm.
Unsure of the entity's power, the beast hurls the spear—then from Natalak it whispers of a force unseen. A grip of his stained red palm, the key to freedom unleashed. It calls, and both the spear and the demon crumble away to dust, to nothingness.
Alone and with no one to match, the entity set its sights on the village of Ma' Valan. Time stops again, and this time Natalak was at the face of the village, hidden by the trees and tall bushes.
However, he was unable to take another step as the bag on his back shone with a golden light. Suddenly, an angel's hand gripped him firmly, and her wings enfolded the man.
Natalak kneels, so too was the entity bearing the angel's weight. It was then that something crept from the entity's mind.
"AZAGE—"
Before it could resume its trance, dark mist gradually leaked from Natalak's eyes and mouth, then the murky vapour condensed into a book.
The Traveller fell, and he felt his body once again, the sense of being with his flesh once again. In return, his vision blurred. His strength fades, no matter how hard he tries to resist; darkness soon falls, as rain soon follows.
In the village of Ma' Valan, the paladin, through her radiant form. Ashalain managed to control the chaos of panic. Soon, other adventurers quickly came, enough to quench the citizens' distress.
After lingering for two more hours, Ashlain heard a call. She responded quickly, and what she saw amazed her.
Carried by two men, she froze at the sight of Natalak…
Thus Ends Book I — Genesis…