Within the Fire Kingdom, a wagon of young enslaved scribes returns from the woodland border of Web's Den...
We were in the woods for barely fifteen minutes, and three scribes were lost. The ride back was quiet. Neither I nor any student spoke a word. Upon returning, we were dismissed to the writing rooms, but I left the rooms—the warded doors unsealed. I carried myself into the third sub-level of the fourth floor while sobbing uncontrollably.
There, amid the fiends, I cried. I wailed, without caring if Lao or any other scholars heard me. The blindinus whined along with me. I repeatedly bashed my head against the stone sectors dividing the caged fiends—harder to numb the pain—harder to stop the memory of her death—harder until blood splashed out and my consciousness waned into darkness.
But the cycle continued—I awoke and jumped in line.
DEAN
New students...
Dean mumbled, but I ignored him. I could not care less. I kept to myself throughout that day, or I tried to. During lunch, I lollygagged my way into the mess room and overheard—
DELVE
Did you hear how loud she screamed?
My ears keened, and I faced them, spotting them through the clutter of annoying insects I have grown to despise.
SKY
Was it pleasure or pain? I could not tell.
She laughed. I approached them silently, cautiously navigating the tables and sliding quickly past any insect in my path.
SKY
Bet she could find the positives of being spider food—
I grabbed Sky by her hair and yanked her out of her seat. I pinned her down and blasted Fire into her neck. Instructor Dean was on duty and was on me in seconds—kicking into me, but I did not let go—I kept on, glaring into Sky's eyes as she choked on her burning blood. Dean finally slammed his foot into my face—it felt like I was struck by a wooden beam.
I awoke to the annoyed face of Bernard sitting across from me within the Repentance. He looked up from a book he was reading and cast me a dissatisfied glance. I stared back into his green and red eyes before he put his book away and rubbed his hands through his bright red, stiff hair.
His green face, designed with thin swirls of red, was glistening with sweat,
CLERIC BERNARD
Get up,
He pulled up his hood and retrieved the whip.
CLERIC BERNARD
Let us get this over with.
*****
That night, I considered ways to terminate my life, but their memories, the memories of my lost friends, stopped me. I was seventeen now, and I would go missing sooner or later. Besides, the thought of Sky, who unfortunately survived, and Delve laughing at my suicide was unbearable. So, instead, I chose to live and, in turn, make their lives a living hell.
The months dragged on. I was not content and unquestionably not obedient. But I resisted losing my cool with the other students. If they annoyed me or if I was bored, I carefully plotted ploys against them. Dean figured it was me and did not turn a blind eye.
He would constantly send me to the Fathers, and I would take the beatings without muttering an ounce of pain. It was painful, but the slight delay between each lash became strangely delightful.
Dean would catch me reading when I was supposed to be writing.
DEAN
To the Fathers.
And Bernard would be reluctantly standing by to ensure I did not skimp.
I would lollygag to class,
DEAN
To the Fathers.
Lying in my bed rather than jumping in line.
DEAN
To the Fathers.
It became pedantically predictable that I began to mouth to the Fathers, along with him, for every little thing I did out of line.
Six months after the death of Locness, I continued to do whatever pleased me to a certain degree. I ignored anyone and everyone who talked to me. Ignoring Dean sent me to the Fathers, of course. I resisted forming any new friendships. I could no longer bear to lose them. And when the goddess Faith tried to give me friends, I responded by making these new students hate me.
*****
My eighteenth birthday came. It was nothing special. I was reading some new books in the writing room when Delve and Sky came to gloat. I did my best to ignore them. I was already forming a plan to make them squirm in pain. This time, I may just kill them... what do I have to lose?
Lost in my thoughts, I realized why I had never written a skill. The Great Professions, the book I was currently reading, informed me that Scribe was an actual profession, and I did not have it. The other students might have obtained it, but I figured I would have heard someone talking about it by now.
I continued to read as Dean's voice was heard in the distance. What in the hell was he yelling about? I thought to myself. Maybe I should tell him to keep it down. A smile slid across my face. I should make the remaining days of my life a thrill.
Dean finally found us,
DEAN
Hey, you insects! The ceremony is about to begin.
Sky and Delve moaned and complained,
SKY
But we just got done—
DEAN
Come on now, hop to. You too, Pain!
He noticed I was reading and not writing,
DEAN
You really are a pain in the ass.
I glared back at him while closing the book and placing it back.
PAIN
Narcissistic king,
I mumbled.
It was time for us and all of the servants, scribes, cleaners, and the entire horde of insects to be present for the king's rise to power. We usually only appear in the throne room if the king has a guest from another Kingdom. If so, we would stand hidden in the back to fill space—a ridiculous waste of time. However, I had only done this twice before.
But this time, it was of inflated significance, for our Scholars and Enchanters stumbled upon a God Item called Infinity that granted the user immortality. It was difficult for me to believe that whoever prospected such an item was not tempted to use it immediately. It was an appalling thought, but people not living within the castle's dungeons found great favor in this king.
People loved him—the Fire King Solo Windhammer—the King of Balance—they would call him. I looked up at the throne to see if I could spot him as we filed into the throne room filled with orchestral music, but I could not do so before we were ushered toward the walls. But I laid eyes on his father before him, the Old Fire King Tala Windhammer, standing with an air of power and a head full of red and purple hair flowing to his knees from out of the back top of his enclosed red metal helm. He was cladded in enchanted ruby puri armor, but I could not hold my gaze long enough to decipher the enchantments.
I was not born yet, but according to the minimal teachings we received from Dean, that could all very well be lies, lingering tension and hate between the three other kingdoms were growing. The Earth, Lightning, and the Fire Kingdom were on the brink of starting an all-out war over... trades of all things. Damn, that sounds believable now that I think about it—we were nothing but petty little creatures, after all.
After King Tala stepped down, something—trades—something—something happened, and somehow, King Solo created balance.
I had no idea what had happened, and the books I read were far from history books—primarily about biology, races, fiends, a bit of magic, and some other crap. I would rarely find any history books.
So, there I stood among a mass of dirty commoners up against the wall of the enormous throne room, lined with limestone walls painted red and black, with pillars of enchanted marble and steel supporting the ceiling near the entrance. The throne room's ceiling began low at the entrance, rising far above us and transforming into enchanted crystal glass that doubled the light entering.
As for the ceremony itself, I could not see a damn thing as I stared at the back of Dean's bald head. I did not care for Dean, but I came to respect him in a way. If he were to get eaten by an arachnid, I would be the last to lament his death. Instead, I would be more concerned about the harsh standards of the instructor who took his position.
An explosion echoed from the city below, jolting me back to reality. Heads all around became swivels. A sudden weight came over me, and I felt myself become weak. My skin began to crawl, and the weight of mana bore down on me. A sudden shadow loomed over the throne room, and all heads craned upward.
I nearly lost hold of my bowels as I laid eyes on the strongest creature known in existence—
VOICE
A dragon is upon us!
Bellowed a voice, and a brief echo of panic began to spread. I had no visuals or clue about what happened near the center, but another voice bellowed with authority—
VOICE
Silence and be still in the presence of your king!
A sudden calmness soothed the throne room, and the weight of mana bearing down on me washed away. The dragon that loomed over us now flew over the castle—Where did it go!?
Both excitement and terror surged through me as I eyed the skies, hoping to see the creature return. Without a doubt, I have read about dragons when I should have been writing. A fascinating and unpredictable race they were. They would appear for unexplained causes and randomly assault places.
I glanced around, and so did others, probably anticipating the ceremony to be called off. Still, it carried on as scheduled—the authentic colors of King Solo—selfish and self-centered. Our army consisted of Lancers and Dragoons. They may have already deployed to get rid of the beast. King Solo must believe they could handle a dragon—a dragon—hailed by us as the strongest creature among the plains. What an imbecile... I could not help but despise him, and, sad to say, kings were the ones typically strong enough to harm a dragon. We also had seven lords rumored to have mortally wounded a dragon together.
But no, the ceremony dragged on while a dragon made a play toy out of our city. It did not sound like any Dragoon or Lancer was taking care of it... probably because it was a damn dragon!
It suddenly became quiet, and what timing too. The ceremony was about to end, hinted at to me by the change of music, and my hopes of having a new king were ending along with it. But to damnation with it. I was simply a minority in this kingdom who saw and heard of the darkest stains used to make the kingdom look shiny and glorious. Hmm... by the time this ceremony was over, the capital city would look like giafullo shi—
My chain of thoughts was interrupted by the return of the daunting mana. Its severity was so massive that many of us fell to our knees. It must have finally shattered the barrier protecting the castle from outside threats. A powerful glare came upon me, rendering my body limp, allowing the force to slam the many commoners and me painfully into the floor. The cries of the soldiers and the royal guards alerted me that the dragon was above the castle, glaring down at us. This could be how I die.
I grimaced as the gent next to me lost hold and soiled himself. The foul-smelling piss edged towards my face. No matter how hard I tried to move, my muscles and body refused to respond, and as the warm piss slid across my face, I moaned in disgust. What a glorious way to die!
The effects of the dragon weakened, and I forced myself up, spitting the piss from my mouth. Finally, I looked up, and for the first time, and possibly my last, I clearly laid eyes upon a dragon.
I knelt there, frozen in horror, as I stared at the distant red and yellow-scaled colossal. Each flap of its wings nearly shook the castle as it peered through the crystal glass. Its mouth was agape, and condensed flames were forming—this was it. Then, in a fit of uncertain anger, it whipped around its head and sent down a great ball of fire—its mana energy alone shattered the glass. With the glass shattering, the mana energy came through and pinned me back down to the floor—nearly pulling me back into the piss.
Astonishingly, the fireball was dispersed by a single Mage who leaped at it. Still, despite his attempts, the mana energy of the fireball scattered, and its force caused destruction throughout the throne room. Energized fire pellets entered the throne room and wreaked havoc on the walls, the ground, and the pillars.
Mages who could withstand the mana energy mended the pillars and walls together, while others stepped over me in panic. I closed my eyes and moaned angrily as they stepped over my face, nearly cracking my skull.
When I opened my eyes to see a pristine silver orb coming my way, my wrath instantly vanished. I was immediately captivated by its glistening shine. But it was coming at me fast. I groggily lifted my hand, grabbing the orb to shield my face. My fingers were almost crushed into my forehead when it struck.
The entire ordeal came and went, and the dragon was long gone after a single attack. Dean had his eyes on me as we all stood up, his mouth agape. Then, one by one, those who were alive stopped to stare at me. As they stared at me, a trickling sensation ran up my arms and bolted throughout my body as if my nerves were being stretched.
DEAN
You scathing idiot.
He growled through his teeth.
A nearby high-status gent shot Dean a glance, and Dean regretted saying anything to me. King Solo and his guards pushed through and saw the orb in my hand. I locked eyes with King Solo for the first time. His presence alone was intimidating, as were his eyes, a ring of gold and black. His black hair with a few strands of gold fell straight towards his shoulders—but a few stuck to his face in his sweaty distress. For a moment, I thought he was going to cry—his golden face, designed with black triangular shapes that shadowed his eyes, scrunched up.
I blinked at the orb, and the name of the enchanted item etched into my head—God Item: Infinity.
PAIN
So, this is Infinity?
That should have been the last words that came out of my mouth, as King Solo's response was to draw his Celestial Sword:Second Wing-Blade of Ra, and lunge it through my gut.
Passive Acquired:
Immortality
Infinite Petty Regeneration
Recall Memory
Ageless