Leo stood at the edge of the upper deck with both hands resting on the cold railing. The ship cut through slow gray waves, and the steady crash of water against the hull echoed below. Wind tugged at his coat and whipped strands of hair across his face, but he did not move.
In front of him, two figures trained on the open platform cleared for combat practice. Selina moved first. Her steps stayed smooth and controlled, her body relaxed, her eyes focused. Wisps of shadow stretched from her feet and slid across the ground like living smoke. Across from her, Elna held a defensive stance, shoulders tense and breathing already uneven.
Leo had not known Elna asked Selina to teach her shadow magic but the decision made sense. Selina stood close to S-rank and built her entire fighting style around shadow magic. Few teachers could offer better guidance.
Miriam leaned against the railing beside him and studied his expression. A small smile appeared. "Don't worry. The captain won't hurt her."
"That's not what worries me." Leo did not take his eyes off the training.
Elna pushed herself too far. She trained with him in the real world, where her body endured the full strain of combat. She trained inside his domain, where time and pressure worked against her even harder. Now she trained with Selina on top of that. Every day demanded more from her than the last. Bruises had barely faded before new ones appeared.
All members of the Creator's gathering grew stronger at an unnatural pace. They had no choice. Time shrank with every passing day.
Elna lunged forward, shadows clinging to her arms in a rough imitation of Selina's technique. The energy wavered and broke apart before it could form properly. She stumbled, caught herself, and forced her stance back into place.
Leo's grip tightened on the railing.
An idea formed.
When Selvanna had granted him power, she shared part of her domain. He could attempt the same. He could give Elna a fragment of his domain and allow her to learn to control it slowly, piece by piece.
The thought held promise, but it also raised a problem. His domain stretched across countless laws and hidden rules he barely understood. Until now, he relied on instinct. He willed something into existence, and the domain answered. That approach would not work for what he planned.
He knew where the answers waited. The ten structures inside his domain stood at its edges. They reacted to him and shaped the power he used, yet he had never studied them closely.
If he uncovered their true purpose, he could learn how to share his power safely.
A clear goal settled in his mind. Leo closed his eyes and let the sounds of the ocean fade as his consciousness slipped away and entered his domain.
Inside his domain, Leo sat on his throne for a short time and let the silence settle around him. White light stretched across the endless space, and the distant structures stood like monuments carved from memory and power.
Then he vanished and reappeared in front of the structure tied to Arthur's domain.
The door stood open. Red and white fog filled the entrance and hid everything beyond it. Leo stepped forward without hesitation and walked through the mist.
A wide chamber revealed itself on the other side. Smooth stone walls rose high above him, bare and silent and a door on the other side. At the center of the room, a sword stood embedded in a block of white rock. The sight brought an immediate memory to mind, the old legend about King Arthur and Excalibur.
A faint smile crossed his face. The coincidence amused him.
He reached out and tried to grasp the sword. His hand passed straight through the hilt. He tried again with more focus, but the result did not change. He could not touch it. He could feel something else instead.
Power from his domain flowed through the chamber and circled the sword in a steady current. The blade did not absorb the energy. It used the flow as a bridge. The structure linked his domain to Arthur's path at a higher level.
The realization confirmed part of his theory. As someone's power and domain grew stronger, they moved closer to the underlying rules. Arthur's domain used his as a stepping stone to move closer to the path of light.
To understand more, Leo needed to visit Ethereon again and study how time and space behaved there.
After several minutes of observation, he turned toward the second door. A faint, blurred image of Arthur's domain shimmered beyond it. He tried to step through, but a resistance stopped him at once. The connection felt narrow and distant, like a thin thread stretched between two vast spaces. Leo stood too large to pass through it.
He left Arthur's structure and crossed the silent expanse of his domain until Luciana's structure rose before him. Its shape mirrored the others, tall walls, a sealed entrance, and a presence that anchored the space like a fixed star.
The moment he stepped inside, the feeling shifted.
Arthur's structure had carried the calm pull of light. Luciana's carried something darker and far more familiar. The energy pressed closer to his own nature, dense and steady. He had reshaped Luciana at her core, and the connection between them showed it clearly.
The contrast forced a new realization. As his companions grew stronger, their structures moved closer to the fundamental rules tied to their paths. That closeness worked both ways. The deeper their connection grew, the greater the risk that those rules could influence him in return.
After leaving the structure, he rose slowly into the air and looked across the vast space of his domain. The ten structures stood apart from one another, each silent and unmoving, yet each carried a faint presence.
Each belonged to a member of his gathering. Even a weak connection should still exist.
He reached outward with his awareness and searched.
At first, he felt nothing. Then faint threads revealed themselves, thin lines of life stretching from each structure toward him. They pulsed like distant heartbeats. When he brushed one with his awareness, a clear impression of its owner rushed back.
His hand moved toward a thread that carried warmth, trust, and quiet affection. The feeling settled in his chest the moment he touched it.
Elna.
He followed the thread downward until he stood before her structure. The tall doors remained closed and silent.
The first step was complete. Now he needed a safe way to open this place for her without causing any harm.
...
Forcar Stoneshatter stood at the edge of the forest and scanned the dense wall of trees ahead. Mist clung to the ground between the trunks, and the smell of damp earth mixed with the lingering scent of blood from the previous battles. Broken arrows and shattered shields lay half buried in the mud. In recent clashes, his warriors had driven the human army back again and again. Today felt wrong. A tight pressure settled in his chest and refused to fade.
He always trusted that instinct. He ordered extra soldier to guard the perimeter even though most of them had barely slept after the night's fighting. Warriors dragged themselves into position, gripping weapons with tired hands but without complaint.
A sudden movement broke through the treeline. An orc sprinted toward him, breath heavy, chest rising and falling as he forced out words.
"Chieftain! An army of the dead approaches. Two enemy leaders march with them, the ones named in the Prince of the North's reports."
A low growl rolled from Forcar's throat. His grip tightened around the haft of his weapon.
He turned and strode toward a cluster of soldiers near the supply wagons. "Sound the horn. We fall back. Call the necromancers. It is time to use the scrolls."
The soldiers snapped into motion. Horns began to echo through the plain, deep and urgent. Warriors rushed between tents, gathering gear and forming retreat lines.
"Chieftain, do we really need to retreat? We can take them," one soldier said, his voice edged with stubborn pride.
"These are the strongest among men. One of them rivals the great Thavuk."
The soldier's eyes widened.
Forcar never intended to win this battle. His task here was simple, delay the enemy and buy time for the other fronts. He intended to see that duty through.
Soon the necromancers moved into position and began their work. Dark chants filled the air as three hundred skeletons tore themselves from the ground. Bones cracked and snapped into place, empty eye sockets burning with dull green light. The undead army surged forward in a loose formation, shields raised and rusted weapons clutched in stiff hands. Their only purpose was to slow the enemy's advance.
Behind them, the orc army continued its retreat toward the north. The sound of horns faded into the distance as the necromancers turned their focus to the three scrolls Thavuk had entrusted to them.
They formed a wide circle and unrolled the scrolls onto the bloodstained ground. The runes etched into the parchments pulsed with faint purple light. To awaken the magic sealed inside, they needed immense power, either vast mana or sacrifice. They chose sacrifice.
Human captives were dragged forward and forced to their knees. Some struggled. Some screamed. Others went silent. One by one, their bodies collapsed as their life was drained away. Thin streams of pale light flowed from their chests and vanished into the runes on the scrolls. With every death, the symbols burned brighter.
After several minutes, the scrolls ignited. Purple fire consumed the parchments, reducing them to ash that scattered across the ground. In its place, thick black liquid seeped up from the earth. It spread slowly at first, then faster, swallowing stones, grass, and bones alike.
Forcar watched from a distant rise. The necromancers had already turned and fled to catch up with the retreating army. The spell no longer needed them.
The dark liquid spread across a wide stretch of ground and stilled, its surface rippling as if something moved beneath it. Then a clawed hand broke through. Another followed. One by one, twisted forms forced themselves free, hulking beasts, warped limbs, and misshapen bodies dragging themselves into the open.
Forcar allowed himself a grim smile. These creatures would stall the enemy for a while.
He turned and followed his warriors north.
…
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bernal asked, hovering in midair, his cloak rippling in the wind.
"That's the only way we can do this without any casualties," Oswald replied calmly.
Bernal frowned. "I meant that I show myself."
Oswald chuckled lightly. "They are orcs, Bernal. They love to fight. Don't worry, you'll soon see an army of orcs ready to die."
Just as he spoke, an army of skeletal warriors surged out from between the trees, clattering forward toward Oswald's own army of bones.
"See? That is their necromancers' spell," Oswald said.
The approaching army crumbled the moment they entered his field of control. Limbs shattered, skulls cracked, and bones scattered across the ground. His necromancy far outstripped theirs.
As he and Bernal watched the enemies undead collapse, a dozen of their skeletons suddenly shattered, thrown violently backward. Oswald's brow furrowed in surprise.
From the trees, a new threat emerged, an army of monstrous forms. Twisted, unnatural shapes with limbs bending at impossible angles and jagged features. The only thing they shared was the eerie purple aura of void that shimmered across their bodies.
Bernal's eyes narrowed as he looked at Oswald. "An army of orcs, huh?"
"They've opened a portal to the void," Oswald said, his voice tinged with curiosity rather than fear.
Bernal let out a long sigh. "We have to close them, or there will be no end to this. You hold them here, I'll deal with the portals."
With that, wind wrapped around Bernal's body. He streaked away with impossible speed, leaving a blur behind him.
Oswald watched him go, then lowered his gaze. He had underestimated the enemy. They had tricked him, lured him into this position. His eyebrows pulled together, his eyes cold and hard.
'They're going to die. Every last one of them.'
A slow, deadly smile spread across his face as he prepared to unleash his vengeance.