Volume 5 – Chapter 19 (in-editing v4)

Volume 5 – Chapter 19

(It's out early!)

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Duke Armon von Atlas studied the gaping hole in the middle of Axellion with a pondering gaze.

“Remarkable.”

The Duke struck an odd figure, as he hovered in mid-air, floating above the aftermath of Aaron’s attack.

Armon was a heavyset man, corded muscles overlayed with a thick layer of fat. Long years of luxury had taken its toll on the Hero of Stone. His clothes were of the finest silk, a fine black shirt lined with enchanted Glyphs, and a set of black, enchanted pants. His shoes were hewn from the hide of an Apex, dark and gleaming, enchanted to allow him to step on the air. He carried an aura of dignity, of power, wrapped around him like a cloak, smothering the very air itself.

His eyes were deep and dark, a mix of blue and green, and his face was slightly lined with age. The average lifespan of a Void Noble was around 150 years, though those that had gained immense personal power lived much longer.

Armon was nearing his 73rd birthday, though he looked much younger.

The Duke stroked his large, finely trimmed black beard, his eyes glowing as he concentrated.

“Sylar Vase nol Kasototh.”

The world around the Duke transformed as he cast a 5th Circle Spell, transforming air into stone.

A wave of grey light shot out as the gaping hole was magically sealed, no longer exposing the streets of Axellion to the open Void. It was a complex Spell that required much attention to detail, manipulating mana at a very fine level, and also the most common Spell Armon had used across his life, here on the Shattered Plane, where floating landmasses were incredibly vital.

As the Duke began to float down towards the street, a frown creased his face as he considered the now-filled hole…

And the large, fleshy black leg embedded next to it – the remnants of what was once an Apex Void Predator.

‘Do the Humans truly grasp the significance of what they’ve done?’

They’d killed one of the Eight.

It was a feat that would make a legend out of a man, instantly transforming the Human into a figure on par with Eon himself.

It was a storied tale, told to every Noble child on the Shattered Plane.

How Eon, the King of Heroes, had gone on his journey to slay the Apexes that threatened to consume all life, more then 60 years ago.

Armon had lived through the horror stories, growing up as a child. The days when Apex attacks were a weekly threat, where Heroes forged their tales in blood and tears.

Apexes were incredibly hard to kill. Their strange, massive bodies held a mix of Anti-Magic and Pro-Magic properties that made them incredibly resilient to essentially everything one might throw at them. They were relentless creatures, brutal in nature, that slaughtered entire civilizations.

Eon had massacred them, killing all but the final Eight.

‘Or, I suppose, we should call them the Seven, now.’

The Eight were known as Walking Disasters for good reason.  

Barsoth. Althen. Seethren. Kilth. Voir. Hasoth. Ryben. Tanthoth.

The only Apexes that survived Eon’s hunt were the ones that possessed powers that allowed them to flee across the Void.

‘When Barsoth suffered enough serious injuries, it was known to transform its body into an enormous storm cloud, becoming incorporeal and fleeing.’  

Duke Armon’s eyes glowed as he raised his right hand, revealing a pair of refined gold rings, studded with blue gems. He tapped on one of the rings, and, a moment later, withdrew a tall silver staff from the enchanted ring’s spatial storage.

The staff had the insignia of a shattered globe at its highest point, with several small celestial bodies orbiting around the globe. Smaller orbs of mana circled those celestial bodies, giving it an ethereal appearance.

As the Duke activated the Erebo Staff, a powerful Artifact that enhanced his Mana, he called upon several Spells.

Immediately, a large blue barrier coalesced into existence around him, protecting him from any possible attack. Several layers of Wards came into place, shielding his existence from prying eyes, as he settled down onto the ground.

Here, the Duke activated the ability passed down in his lineage: the power to scry the past.

Time itself began to rewind as the Duke watched, the world playing backwards in a grand vision as the past revealed itself.

He saw the Apex arrive, in its great, fearsome glory.

He saw his loyal Guards attempt and fail to stave it off.

He saw the Humans intercept it, some that he did not recognize.

His eyes narrowed.

‘Vesper?’

He watched his youngest daughter’s careful manipulation of Magic, working in tandem with the Infinite Knight, a Human Grandmaster, and a third Human who appeared to possess the ability to teleport. The quartet worked together to keep the Apex in one place, buying time.

‘Truly, they are such strange creatures.’

Such a casual display of teleportation would’ve amazed Armon just a few years ago, before the onset of Foreigners began to arrive on their world. Teleportation was a feat that even he, an Archmage, was incapable of performing casually. The only methods he was aware of relied on the creation of complex Artifacts that were prohibitively expensive and difficult to craft.

His vision of the past flowed forward, moving through the scenes of battle.

He lay witness to the arrival of the White Knight.

And then there was light.

“Remarkable.” He repeated himself.

He replayed the scene, over and over, watching as Aaron Bartram raised his hand and sent down a beam of death.

For, there was no other way Armon could describe what he saw, as his Magic analyzed the vision, breaking down every aspect of the attack.

“Annihilation, in its most primal form. Light made energy. Absolute devastation.” The energy readings from his temporal scan were mind-boggling.

As he watched the attack bisect the Apex, instantaneously destroying it before its defensive mechanics could activate, he came to a pause.

‘Could I block such an attack?’ The Duke considered all the Defensive Artifacts on his person, the Wards shielding his body, the Spells lining his garments.

‘No.’

If it could kill one of the Eight, it could kill him.

The thought was unsettling.

With a wave of his hand, Duke Armon dismissed the vision, the barriers around him fading as he returned to the present, standing in the middle of the now restored street.

Immediately after, he raised his right hand.

“Tywel.”

“Milord.” A middle-aged Void Noble appeared, emerging from the shadows in a display of Magic prowess.

“Report.” Duke Armon’s voice was cold as he questioned his Spymaster and Chief Steward, a Void Noble by the name of Tywel Kathos.

“Casualties among the Guard are reported at 47 deaths, among the civilians there was 31. Injuries number in the hundreds, both civilians and Guards, but all are receiving treatment. The damage was almost entirely contained to the Southern regions. The Albaz Company and the Knights of the Round Table answered the Call, the latter aiding in delaying the Apex, while both aided in evacuation efforts.”

It was a shockingly low number of casualties, considering the circumstances. A tragedy, yes, but far, far lesser then it should've been.

“Guard Commander Bellor Alten has lodged a complaint against Guard Commander Pere Lomon, accusing him of a delayed response. Commander Bellor fought steadfastly and conducted himself appropriately.”

‘Sebastian Lomon’s brother causing issues again?’ He repressed the urge to sigh, unable to tolerate such a display of weakness in front of his subordinates.

Sebastian was his favored disciple, liable to succeed him as the leader of the Gyven Tower. His brother, however, continued to prove himself a nuisance.

‘Action will have to be taken.’ Discipline must be maintained among the Guard.

The Spymaster went on to give a detailed report, confirming everything the Duke witnessed in his scan of the past, from the Humans intervention to Aaron’s strike that ended the Apex’s life.

“Vesper. She’s invited those two Humans to the Castle?” The Duke queried.

“Yes, Milord. They’re entering through the gates right now.” His Spymaster had a constant chain of communication established with those overseeing the security of Castle Atlas.

“Inform her they’ve been invited to the Table of Honor at the Founding Celebration.”

Their bravery in confronting the Apex deserved at least that much recognition.

‘I made the right decision allowing the Humans into Axellion.’ It had been a tough call, inviting Foreigners into his walls.

The results, however, spoke for themselves.

The trade value alone, from the mysterious Artifacts these Humans could create from thin air, was already invaluable in its own right.

“Ensure the Round Table also receives invitations, as well as the leaders of Albaz Company.”

“At once, milord!” Tyvel stepped backwards and vanished into the shadows, recognizing the dismissal for what it was.

The Duke turned away, his gaze returning back towards the lump of Apex flesh. With a wave of his hand, the great lump began to float in the air, and then vanished, stored away within his Spatial Ring.

‘I’ll have to reward them.’ Such a feat could not go unrewarded. Perhaps he would use the remaining Apex flesh to commission a set of Artifacts? It was Aaron’s property by right of conquest.

‘The Round Table is seeking closer ties…’

Aaron had proven himself today, fighting for Axellion and displaying a level of power that could not be ignored.

‘I will allow it.’ Might made right.

Allmaster and his collection of fools up in the North lacked the foresight to understand the benefits of diplomacy.

The world was changing, faster then it ever had before.

He was Armon von Atlas, the Hero of Stone, Archmage of the Gyven Tower and yet...

The world was changing…

And perhaps, he too, might change with it.

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