Black Magus

I saw no reason to sit around after Urda’s explanation thus I left shortly after asking the undead alchemist a few more questions; but only after he thrust a basic alchemy set and a copy of the recipe into my arms. With self-affirmations to attend the same class tomorrow, I returned to the guest floor to retreat to my ‘room’ for a meal and find a way to pass the time.

The entryway leading into my room was more like a gate on the terrace to the right of the 74th-floor landing. Within was a winding walkway through a garden lawn of flowers and vegetables in various stages of growth. All overlooked by a veritable mansion sitting within its own walled-off lot. It was spacious enough for a well-sized family at least. A great foyer led to an expansive great room and connected kitchen doused in wood floors and stone furnishings. The upper floors held the bedrooms and offices for the tenants while the lower floor was advertised as an ‘entertainment space’ that I had no particular interest in at the moment. Whatever forms of entertainment in this universe were a far cry from what I was used to. For now, at least.

Even then, however, magic was far more entertaining.

And so it was, I made and quickly devoured my meal so as to grant me the most time to split between my hobbies. I wrote. I read. I practiced something I'd hardly been touching as of late: Mana manipulation.

Though I still knew atrociously little about mana, that didn't prevent me from taking hold of the energy with my mind. It prevented me from doing anything more than whirling the supercritical fluid around in hopes of making some observations- and observations, there were. Passing it through the brush and trees made their leaves sway violently and smoke as if they’d been struck in a violent lightning storm, yet they neither got hot nor even burned. Nor did they proceed to a crisp when I formed a spectral hand of mana to grab things akin to telekinesis, for the volatile energy crushed or shattered dozens of cups, plates, and other common household items with the slightest influx of energy.

My solitary training session ended just after the evening bell. Finished with their classes for the day, my vassals emerged onto the guest floor shortly thereafter and froze upon sensing me throwing mana about the place with wild abandon until I noticed the hope and reluctance on their faces. Part of me wanted to prank them. But a larger part of me led them to the dining table to share the good news.

“I amended the training schedule during our stay at the Tower,” I explained. “Each of us has studies we need to devote ourselves to while we’re here. So from now on, training will be done on our own time; with our Doppelgangers. We’re to focus on three things. First is body conditioning; namely strength and pain tolerance. Second is to continue developing new spells and gaining proficiency in known ones. And the third is flight training.”

“Flight training?” Jaimess leaned his wrinkled brows closer.

“I’m sure it doesn’t need explaining, but we need to learn how to fly. And in more ways than one.” I declared, pulling out a few tomes to distribute. “Here are my ideas for flying with elemental manipulation and fusion, as well as some ideas for locomotion using your magic. Feel free to expand upon them or come up with your own ideas for both.”

“Understood.” Toril took his book with an excited nod and immediately began flipping through the first few pages.

“On top of that.” I continued. “I’m toying with the idea of training the students while we were here. We’ll need to start recruiting sooner rather than later. Training the students here would drastically save some work for us in the future.”

“That is true.” Jaimess nodded, stroking his chin. “I assume you want us to teach them your elemental theories then?”

“Exactly.” I nodded. “In truth, I only told them to train because they’re loyal to my Great-Grandfather; and by extension to me. But I realized that if they’re trained now, they can, at the very least, become officers when the guild is formed. They too have their studies, however, so I figure it’d be best to hold the sessions on the weekend. Or you can have the students decide themselves.” I shrugged. “Your choice, Toril. I entrust this task to you.”

Toril snapped away from his book to give a curt nod at the mention of his name. "Understood."

I could only smile at the change in attitude my vassals were now showing me. A long and slow process though it was, I could finally relish in not being called such obnoxious titles by those closest to me; while in our own company, at least. Though I dared bring such observations to light, lest they relapsed.

“I’ve been curious.” I continued after a short moment. “I mean, I understand Toril’s case, but I don't understand why you're so infamous here, Jaimess.”

“I have an unlikeable face, I suppose.” He meekly shrugged. To which I gave a contemplative frown and nodded.

“True.” Toril erupted in derisive laughter as a shocked outburst molded on Jaimess' face. “You seem… unapproachable." I continued. "It's because you're naturally quiet. And your resting face makes your thoughts and emotions hard to read. Generally, that makes people think you're hiding something, you're dangerous, or you're arrogant. But that can be a good thing.” Jaimess only squinted at me with eyes flooded with bemused distress until I dismissed the matter entirely, wherein they widened with a grim realization of the truth. “Anyway, what'd you learn in class?”

“Reasonably well.” Toril sighed out the last of his laughs. “I spent most of the day fighting undead. Though the wooden axe you made for me broke. I was since given a training weapon. Metal but blunt.”

"Nice."

“My classes are… interesting.” Jonet vaguely stated and said nothing thereafter.

"Mmm."

“My first day went well.” Jaimess eventually came back to his normal self with a heavy sigh. “Though I had a similar experience to Toril.”

“Good.” I nodded. “In recognition of my goals, my father and great-grandfather decided to increase the difficulty of our training. To that end, he seemed all too eager to train me and allow me to amend your schedules. So, make certain you use the vast lot of recourses available to us. We'll be here for four years, after all.”

---

Our small talk continued throughout dinner and into the evening, wherein my vassals went to train and I migrated to my room to lounge about until sundown. Like waiting the few hours before a long-awaited product launched, that was. Thus I was I waited to step through the shadows of Grandpa Lich's office the moment the sun set beneath the Plane.

“You are ready, then?” His voice echoed out to me as soon as I entered the space. I resumed my physical form as I approached him, silently nodding. He in turn beckoned me to stand beside him on the balcony behind his desk, looking down on the vast, western coast.

Due to its structure, the Mortal Plane allowed for unbridled views of literally planetary distances from the right elevation. From here, the expanse of giant trees that was Deap Ridge appeared to be nothing more than a thicket of shrubs growing on a distant mountainous island. Yet somewhere beyond those vast churning waters were lands beyond my wildest dreams. Hells, both fiery and frozen. Paradises, both arcane and Mesozoic. And just to the east, where that blue-green glow danced across the waters, would be my launching point to see it all.

After a few moments of silent awe, a hammer of a fist saw fit to slam against my back, bowing my chest forward with enough force to vacate the air from my lungs and topple me over the rails. Clenching my teeth, I immediately flooded my body with shadow mana to take on the Wraith Form, then floated back up to the balcony with an all-to-visible scowl.

Ignoring my glare, Grandpa Lich took on the same form and sped past me, calling over his shoulder for me to follow him on a descent toward the lake. I flew faster than I ever have before; in this life, while trying to keep up with him. The sense of vertigo, adrenaline, and unbridled freedom was something I’d been unknowingly longing to experience again. Thus I was unsurprised when I found myself disappointed after settling my physical body on the shores of Corvus Lake. Disappointment or not, however, Grandpa Lich began without pause or delay.

“I’m sure you have many questions, Amun. Most of them shall be answered during our studies. Before that, however, comes combat training.” He paused as his shadow darkened and spread alongside him. From it, emerged a few creatures I’d only read about in books and stories; and a human of course, all made of the same solid necrotic shade comprising the spider that carried us across Deap Ridge. They were like the Doppelgangers, grayscale. Yet parts of them glowed with a distinct gray that seemed a bit different from the rest. almost as if they were... scars.

“We’re to start with a strength test. One quite simple in nature.” Grandpa gestured to the line of umbral creatures beside him. “You are to try and knock each undead on its ass. Starting with the human. Followed by the dwarf; smaller, yet just as dense and strong as a strong man. The hobgoblin comes next.” He pointed to a grotesque, almost rat-like humanoid standing just as tall as the human. Albeit with comically large hands and feet, long arms, and a haunched posture. “Hobgoblins are commonly said to have the strength of a weak adult or a strong teenager.” He continued by pointing to a dwarf-sized humanoid with long sideburns and somewhat pointed ears. “They are followed in strength by halflings, comparable to an athletic teenager. And finally, the goblin. With its slightly above child-like strength.

"As you may have noticed.” He continued. “We both are Shadow Necromancers. That is to say, our necromancy stems from the Underworld; thus it must use darkness as a conduit to enter the physical realm. As such, those we kill and subsequently raise resemble our doppelgangers, yet they retain the personas and abilities they had in life. This is the closest you will come to killing another being, for the time being at least. For now...” He stepped aside to make space for the human undead. “Strike them down!”

I settled into a boxing stance and took to shuffling around the human. A 30-something-year-old man donned in light armor of grays on grays, crouching with his hands on his knees to put his condescending smile at eye level. I allowed the full weight of my sentiments to fuel a swift right cross to the undead man's chin. Yet all that came of it was a distant pain in my hand and a widened grin from the undead. His head didn't’ even budge from the strike. Much to my chagrin. Thus I lashed out at the hobgoblin with equal fury, only for its face to rock to the side a bit, but was otherwise unaffected by my left hook. Neither was the halfling, who’d been forced a single step back after I put my all into a punch once again. So naturally, I was more than frustrated when the last undead standing before me was the goblin; a rat-eared creature much like its evolved variant, albeit a bit shorter than myself.

“As I figured.” Grandpa Lich grunted once the goblin was left sprawled over the snow. “You’re as weak as a goblin. Though that’s to be expected. And it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of.” He quickly reassured me with bared palms. “All elves are physically weaker than humans. In exchange, they are magically gifted beyond comparison. Furthermore.” He paused to lower his hands to reveal a quite malicious grin “You are the sole elf who has a way to grow stronger over time.”

‘How do you know that?’ I internally quipped before asking. “How so?”

“Necromancy. The method is to steal the life force of another and take it as your own.”

“Like a… Leech Hand.” I nodded in understanding.

“Aye.” He grinned. “And a fitting name. A bit misleading, though. But I digress.” He shrugged. “The next step of your Leech Hand is False Life.”

“False Life,” I repeated, prompting the gears in my mind to churn. “I imagine this… False Life can be used in two ways.” I pondered aloud. “I can drain their vitality and use it to heal myself, or I can drain their energy and use it to empower myself. But, is that energy added permanently to my body, or is it stockpiled within?” I wondered aloud just as much as I asked. And much to my delight, he answered.

“That is up to you.” He grunted. “Though, I will tell you that it has risks. Think of your body as a barrel of fermenting ale. Too much yeast; or false life, produces too much gas; or energy, causing the barrel that is your body to burst at the seams.”

‘That’s a terrible analogy.’ I internally snorted.

“Your training will consist of strengthening your body until you can permanently hold enough strength to defeat a hobgoblin or preferably, a human. To do that, your body must grow accustomed to pain and suffering on levels mortals cannot even begin to comprehend. You must be broken, healed, and broken again so your body can naturally strengthen over time. You must learn to teeter on death's door, Amun. For that, is how our sorcery blossoms.”

“I’m ready.” I nodded resolutely.

“We shall see.” He chuckled, stepping before me while his undead faded into obscurity. “Now, draw your weapon and inflict a killing blow on me. And don’t hold back.” He added with another laugh. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”

I couldn’t let such words go unchallenged. And so I pulled mana from my well and allowed it to flow through the entirety of my affinity core, then guided the resulting mass of void to my hand and rose a single brow towards my forefather. “Is that a fact?”

“Ahhh.” His grin faded just as quickly as his head hung in defeat. “I retract said statement.”

I couldn’t help but grin as I canceled the spell and relaxed my posture.

“Now them.” Grandpa cleared his throat. “Attack me. With your weapons.” He added. “And don’t hold back.”

Nodding, I reached behind a nearby tree to withdraw my wooden spear from my Shadow Pocket. Prompting an immediate outburst from Grandpa Lich- one of mocking laughter. “What in the seventeen hells is that!” He reeled back on his heels, pointing at my weapon like a child.

“It’s not as if I could go out and buy my own!” I immediately spat back. “I even asked my Father, who claimed weapon smiths were frothing at the mouths to give me their creations. But I have yet to see any.” I scoffed. Then looked intently into my grandfather’s eyes. “My vassals and I need real weapons sooner rather than later, Grandpa. We need time- years to get used to fighting with the real thing.

"Besides.” I shrugged, looking away a bit as I muttered. “I’m sure I read that royals were supposed to have nice weapons.”

“Oh did you?” Grandpa Lich burst out in laughter. “With a royal genius comes both hubris and presumptuousness. You, Amun, are unmatched in all three! Wahahahaha!

“But you make fine points, as always.” He sighed himself down to a calmer demeanor. Then reached into a shadow cast by a nearby tree to toss me a pair of unremarkable daggers. “Now, quit stalling and kill me. If you can.”

Gripping each dagger in hand, I lunged forth. Grandpa Lich reacted immediately with a hook thrown faster than I ever thought possible. I scrambled at the last second, bringing the blade between my ribs and the oncoming fist just in time to feel the wet resistance of flesh being sliced under my hand, but nonetheless felt an eruption of pain bloom over my left side just before the world turned.

And turned and turned, further blurring the grayed-out, snowy environment around me until I realized I came to a rest quite some time ago.

Seeing the towering, menacing form of my grandfather on approach, I tried to best to crawl to my feet; only to feel and hear a symphony of cracks, creaks, and phlegmy coughs ringing through my body like church bells. He made it within striking range before I struggled to an upright position. Yet he paused to withdraw the bloodless blade from his knuckles without a sound or grimace, leaving a wedge-shaped hole that leaked wispy gray clouds into the ambiance. Almost like vaporized blood.

With the pain pushed away to the back of my mind, I managed to reach for the knife he'd thrown at my feet and used all my strength to bring the point of the blade up towards his chin. Grandpa Lich simply stood in place as if he didn’t see the incoming attack and consequently shuddered in place as the hilt of the dagger came to a rest on the underside of his jaw. Yet, even with a blade sticking through his skull, Grandpa Lich’s face curled in a foul, sadistic grin.

“Good.” He cackled, pulling the blade from his face before handing it to me. “Now that I know you have the will to kill, we can begin. But first.” He took my hand with his free arm and made me slap his comparatively massive face. “Heal yourself.”

Struggling to nod, I pulled a handful of mana from my well and allowed it to flow through my core to be attributed to death magic, then guided the sinister energy to my hand. Like the floodgates were opened, energy began pouring back into my body. Prompting me to imagine and will it to flow into my cells to repair what was damaged and replenish what was lost. The result was excruciating. It was like time had been turned back. Like I'd been forced to experience the beating I was just given in reverse. Bones twisted and pivoted back into place within seconds, producing stomach-turning cracks that echoed across the lake’s surface until my body was left a spasming, but healthy mess; sprawled out across the snow.

Then, Grandpa Lich swung.

And I scrambled. I tried to kick off the snow or at least block the incoming hammer fist. But again, Grandpa Lich punched through my blade, shattering it entirely before his fist went on to smash my stomach against my spine. A foul concoction of blood and body fluids spewed from my mouth like a dragon's breath as my body contoured around his arm. In my wild thrashings, I managed to scar and slash at his cheeks until he retracted his arm and gave me a swift backhand. Then the world went dark. The stinging of my nose, the tears welling in my eyes, the taste of iron spreading through my lips, they all disappeared in mere seconds. Leaving my consciousness by its lonesome, slipping in and out of reality in ways that made me feel as if I were watching a movie while half-asleep. I watched at a mental distance, the falling snow and the rain of massive fists pulling away to bring on the light; then plummeting to spread the darkness. Until... there was only light.

In that light, I once again felt my hand be pulled to a lumpy, leathery surface of skin and so struggled to activate the Leech Hand. Then endured the painful process of necrotic healing.

I fought back as best I could throughout the following rounds, but each time Grandpa Lich's mammoth-sized fists made contact with my body, I found it instantly impossible; if not improbable to move to attack or defend myself in time. He was unnaturally strong and even more, fast. With the passing of the hour, I'd hardly done any damage to him. His hands and arms were scarred, a gaping hole was present in his left armpit, and I managed to stab him in the stomach. Yet each injury or wound was simply shrugged off and oftentimes used as an opening to shatter a few of my bones, destroy my organs, or send my frail body flying across the snow. In the hours after, I sometimes wound up ‘killing’ him. Most times I wouldn’t, though. And each time would end with a grin or laugh or even some credit for my performance while I writhed and healed on the ground. Then he’d reengage with added effort.

It only took a few rounds after that for it to turn into a one-sided beating. For my body to start caving around the large, heavy hands attached to my grandfather’s wildly swinging arms with increasing ferocity. He didn’t explain himself after the initial briefing. And I didn’t complain. I knew, deep down that his words were true. That I had to get this privileged body used to pain and hardship as much as possible. For, if Telin was true to his word; if the monsters on the other side were truly as formidable as the books made them seem, there was a lot of pain and hardship in store for me and mine. Of that, I was sure. And so we fought until I could fight no more. I’d heal and then we’d fight some more. Over and over again. Unceasingly, until midnight passed on Corvus Tower; wherein I came to my feet post-healing to find my forefather smirking proudly.

“That was the last round for the night. Now, we begin your training in Lesser Necromancy.”

“Lesser… Necromancy?” I slowly repeated.

“Aye.” He nodded with the same smirk as before. “Now open your Shadow Pocket and let me inside.”